Besides a book coming out on August 2, 2025? (The Devil Passed By, a novel, which is available for preorder now, and two associated bonus stories.)

I’ve mentioned in past posts that I’ll likely be wrapping up my 30+ books story arc for my characters Mai Fisher and Alexei Bukharin in the next few years. Given that I’ve aged them in real time, their story has to come to a logical conclusion. There simply aren’t that many 80-year-old spies still active. I’ve already drafted two of the three books in that concluding series titled, “Enemies Domestic.” That series will probably start some time in 2026 and conclude in 2027 or 2028.

Does that mean I’ll stop writing?

That’s like saying I’ll stop breathing.

Of course, I’ll write. I have a rough draft of a mystery I’m going to work on (Ewington Mysteries book 3). I’m going to write at least a novella about Mai and Alexei’s first mission. I’m collecting espionage stories to put into Spy Flash IV: The End; that’s working title by the way, but it’ll be Spy Flash IV something. I’m also working on compiling some of my blog posts into a nonfiction book titled, Writing, Spies, and Writing About Spies.

There will come a time when I’ll write, probably short stories, probably literary short stories with a twist, and I’ll likely publish them on Substack without much fanfare because I’m almost at the point of burn-out on marketing. You can only come up with so many ways to say, “Buy my books,” without actually saying, “Buy my books.” I really want off that merry-go-round. I retired from federal service almost 16 years ago, and where I’ve had plenty of leisure time and family time, writing, editing, marketing became almost a full-time job, one that so far pays very little.

With the deaths in the past year of a cousin I was close to and my ex, I’ve been forced to accept that fewer days are ahead of me than behind me. I’d like to be retired, retired at some point while I can still do things like travel to Ireland or other spots in Europe.

But I’ll still write.

At some point, I hope many, many years from now, someone will find me at my writing desk with my face planted on the keyboard. I’ll have the satisfaction, however, that I left this world doing what I always wanted to do.

Tell stories.