When is it time for a writer to hang up their pens and paper? Why don't writers know when to quit?
From a piece on the Daily Beast...
Mysteries are my weakness. Hunky detectives, villainous officials, plot surprises going off like a string of firecrackers—all these are enough to make me forget that I am on an airplane going through turbulence or to keep me up all night. I discovered Lee Child one afternoon when I had a three-hour wait in Penn Station. Sitting on the dirty floor with Jack Reacher, I wished the delay had been longer. Finding a writer who does this for me is like falling in love, but here’s the real mystery—why can’t these guys keep it up after eight or nine books? Why do they all seem to run out of steam?
David Baldacci began Absolute Power with one of the best scenes I have ever read; now, 18 books and 15 years later, I don’t even buy him in paperback. Even the classy Alan Furst just seemed to fade after book No. 10 into shorter, less interesting stories. Janet Evanovich locked herself into writing serial thrillers by using a number in each title—I stopped at Hard Eight. Sometimes it happens sooner. Stephenie Meyer’s first novel, Twilight, was imaginative and compelling, but it was followed by three lesser accomplishments. Consider the wisdom of J.K. Rowling, who announced that she would write seven Harry Potter novels and then wrote seven Harry Potter novels… so far.
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