I totally forgot to tell you that last week I saw the new extended Sex and the City movie trailer and it required me to have like a half hour counseling session–I mean conversation–with my friend Beth.
Our conversation was like this: “Why did they even have to make a movie? Why couldn’t they leave well enough alone? Do you think they really break up? Maybe it’s a dream sequence. Oh, my God, I want to die!”
This is why I won’t even consider writing sequels to the Mediator and 1800-Where-R-U series. Because to propel the narrative after the happily ever after, writers have no choice but to do horrible, terrible things to their characters.
(The Heather Wells series doesn’t count because I don’t really feel like she’s had her HEA yet.)