And out with a whimper.

That's how I feel about some writers I came to love over time and now I can breeze by their displays at Barnes and Noble without so much as batting an eyelash. Why?

Because I'm disappointed with them. I fell out of love with their words when something that was a secondary plot line becomes the meat of the story and the actual plot is more like a condiment.

I won't point fingers, it's useless to say 'change it now or I'll hate you in they morning'.

After all, it's their world.

Their characters, their ideas, their paycheck. Telling an author to change everything this late in the game would be like locking the barn after the purebreed Newfoundland was stolen and replaced with a toy-sized mutt. Doesn't work.

I still read their books, because I need the fix, but I no longer buy them. I doubt my choice to go to the library than fork over $20 makes much difference to them, but it's my own little protest.

I'm not trying to change the whole world, just my tiny little corner of it.