Who’d have thought …

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Making the leap beyond the second novel is one of the most perilous tightrope walks in a writer’s career.

Publishing a debut is a milestone. Writing the second book proves you aren’t a one-hit wonder (though dealing with the dreaded “Sophomore Slump” is very real). But Book Three and beyond is where the real career begins. This is where you transition from writing isolated stories to building a sustainable literary business and a sprawling narrative universe.

Here is a breakdown of the challenges, the pitfalls, and the roadmap for successfully writing a long-running series.

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PART 1: The Challenges

1. The Lore Mountain (Continuity)

In Book 1, you can keep track of eye colours, magic systems, and timelines in your head or on a few sticky notes. By Book 4, your internal hard drive will crash.

• The Challenge: Readers have encyclopedic memories. If a character’s dead uncle is suddenly mentioned as being alive, or the geography of a fictional city shifts to suit a new plot point, your fans will notice and call you out in reviews.

2. The Middle-Book Sag

Books 1 and 2 usually have high energy: you are introducing the world, setting up the core conflict, and resolving the initial arc. Books 3 through $N$ often suffer from “bridge-building syndrome”—where the book exists merely to move pieces around the board for the finale.

• The Challenge: Keeping every individual book structurally satisfying while it simultaneously serves a massive, overarching plot.

3. Character Stagnation vs. Distortion

How many times can your detective solve a murder, or your wizard save the world, without fundamentally changing?

• The Challenge: If your characters don’t grow, they become boring. But if they change too much, they become unrecognisable from the person readers fell in love with in Book 1.

4. Creative Fatigue

Falling out of love with your own creation is a terrifying experience. When you’ve lived with the same fictional people, locations, and magic systems for half a decade, the urge to burn the world down and write something completely different becomes overwhelming.

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PART 2: The Pitfalls

1. The “Reset Button” (Stasis)

The Pitfall: At the end of Book 3, your protagonist learns a massive lesson, heals their trauma, or finds peace. But you have a contract for Book 4, so you instantly undo their growth, break up their relationship, or create a brand-new trauma so they can start the book back at square one.

• Why it fails: Readers feel cheated. Growth must be permanent, meaning the challenges must continually escalate.

2. Scope Creep (The “Marvel-ization” Trap)

The Pitfall: Starting with a grounded, intimate story (e.g., a local murder mystery) and slowly inflating the stakes until Book 5 involves stopping an intergalactic deity from destroying the multiverse.

• Why it fails: Readers often care more about small, grounded stakes and character relationships than exploding planets. When everything is apocalyptic, nothing matters.

3. Info-Dumping to Catch Up New Readers

The Pitfall: Spending the first three chapters of Book 3 re-explaining the lore from Books 1 and 2 so that a stray new reader isn’t confused.

• Why it fails: It bores your loyal existing fans to tears. You must trust your audience to either read the previous books or piece things together through context clues.

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PART 3: Is It Possible to Write a Long Series?

Yes, absolutely. In fact, from a business and marketing perspective, series are the holy grail of modern publishing (especially in genres like Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Romance, and Thrillers).

Algorithms love series because they generate “read-through”—when a reader finishes Book 1 and immediately buys Books 2, 3, and 4.

However, writing a successful long series requires a shift in methodology:

How to Actually Pull It Off:

1. Build a “Bible”: Start treating your series like a franchise. Maintain a master document (or use software like Scrivener, Notion, or campfire.otg) tracking character bios, timelines, geography, magic/technology rules, and loose plot threads.
2. Design the Architecture Early: Know your ending—or at least the broad strokes of it. George R.R. Martin and Patrick Rothfuss are currently trapped by their own sprawling gardens because they didn’t map out the end before writing the middle. You don’t need every detail, but you must know the destination.
3. Mix Macro and Micro Arcs:
   • The Micro Arc (The Book): Has its own beginning, middle, end, and emotional takeaway.
   • The Macro Arc (The Series): A massive puzzle piece that advances slightly with every single book.
4. Give Secondary Characters Room to Breathe: If you get tired of your main protagonist, let a secondary or tertiary character take the spotlight for a chapter, a subplot, or even a spin-off novella. This breathes fresh air into the universe without derailing the main plot.
5. Accept That Your Audience Will Shrink (and That’s Okay): Series attrition is real. Book 2 will always sell fewer copies than Book 1, and Book 5 fewer than Book 2. Write for the die-hards who make the journey all the way to the end, rather than trying to optimise for casual readers who dropped off years ago.

The Bottom Line

Moving beyond the second novel is the moment you graduate from “aspiring novelist” to “professional storyteller.” It requires discipline over inspiration, organisation over intuition, and a willingness to respect the world you’ve built enough not to break it just to squeeze out one more sequel.

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Day 198 – Robert Heinlein’s five business habits for writers

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Master the Craft: 5 Business Habits of Robert A. Heinlein (And Why One is So Contested)

When people think of Robert A. Heinlein, they picture a grandmaster of science fiction. Alongside Isaac Asimov and Arthur C. Clarke, Heinlein was one of the “Big Three” writers who shaped the genre during its Golden Age, penning timeless classics like Starship Troopers, Stranger in Strange Land, and The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress.

However, Heinlein was more than just a visionary storyteller; he was a disciplined professional. Long before he became a household name, he treated writing not as a fragile artistic muse, but as a hard-nosed business.

In his famous essay “On the Writing of Speculative Fiction” (and later expanded in letters and his collection Grumbles from the Grave), Heinlein laid out five simple rules for writing success. They sound deceptively easy, but together, they form a rigorous boot camp for any aspiring author.

While four of these rules are widely accepted wisdom in the writing community, the third rule remains a fierce point of debate among authors, editors, and writing coaches to this day.

Let’s break down Heinlein’s five business rules, examine why they work, and dive into the controversy surrounding rule number three.

---

Heinlein’s 5 Rules for Writers

Heinlein stated these rules with trademark bluntness. If you want to make a living as a writer, he argued, you only need to follow these steps:

1. You must write.
2. You must finish what you start.
3. You must refrain from rewriting except to editorial order. (The Contested One)
4. You must put the work on the market.
5. You must keep the work on the market until it is sold.

At a glance, this looks like a blueprint for industrial-scale content production. Let’s look at each one to understand the philosophy behind the master’s machine.

---

Rule 1: You must write.

It sounds painfully obvious, but millions of aspiring writers fail at the very first hurdle. They talk about writing, they think about writing, and they outline for years. Heinlein’s point is that a writer writes. Ideas are worthless until they hit the page. You cannot call yourself a writer based on your potential; you are only a writer based on your output.

Rule 2: You must finish what you start.

Half-written manuscripts sitting in a digital graveyard earn zero dollars and tell zero stories. Heinlein argued that writers who constantly abandon projects to start “better” ideas train themselves in the habit of quitting. Finishing a flawed book teaches you infinitely more than abandoning a brilliant premise at Chapter Three.

Rule 3: You must refrain from rewriting except to editorial order.

Cue the record scratch.

This is where the collective groan of the modern writing community echoes across the internet.

In Heinlein’s view, endlessly tweaking, polishing, and revising your own work is a trap—a form of procrastination disguised as perfectionism. He believed that the longer a manuscript sat on your desk, the colder it got, and the more likely you were to tinker it to death. Furthermore, if you are revising endlessly before selling, you aren’t producing new work. Write it, get it as right as you can the first time, and move on. Revise only when a paying editor tells you what needs to be fixed.

Why is this rule so contestible today? Modern creative writing culture is built on the altar of the revision. Today’s authors are told that “writing is rewriting,” and that the real magic happens in drafts two, three, and four (and beyond). Writers work with critique partners, developmental editors, and beta readers to refine pacing, deepen character arcs, and fix plot holes before ever submitting a manuscript to a publisher or self-publishing platform.

Critics of Heinlein’s third rule argue that:

• Writing standards have changed: Readers and publishers expect a higher level of polish in a first submission today than they did in the mid-20th-century pulp magazine era.
• Heinlein was a genetic anomaly: Heinlein famously claimed that his first drafts required virtually no corrections. Not every writer possesses the preternatural internal editor that Heinlein had.
• Self-publishing demands quality control: In the indie publishing boom, authors act as their own publishers. If you don’t revise your work heavily before hitting “publish,” the reviews will be merciless.

The Defense of Rule 3: To be fair to Heinlein, his rule is often misunderstood. He wasn’t saying “turn in sloppy first drafts.” He was saying, “Trust your initial creative instinct, finish the book, and get it out the door.” He wanted writers to avoid the endless loop of self-doubt where a manuscript is trapped in revision purgatory for five years. For high-output authors (especially in genres like sci-fi, fantasy, and romance), over-editing can indeed be a profit-killing waste of time.

Rule 4: You must put the work on the market.

A manuscript gathering dust in a drawer or a hidden folder on your desktop has a success rate of 0%. Heinlein was ruthless about this: a writer’s job doesn’t end when the typing stops. You have to submit the work to agents, publishers, or—in today’s landscape—platforms where readers can buy it. Fear of rejection keeps too many great stories locked away. Put the product on the shelf.

Rule 5: You must keep the work on the market until it is sold.

If magazine A rejects your short story, send it to magazine B. If publisher X passes on your novel, submit it to publisher Y (or self-publish it). Heinlein understood the statistics of the business. Rejection is rarely a definitive judgment of a story’s quality; often, it’s just a mismatch of taste, timing, or market trends. A professional writer keeps the inventory circulating until it finds a home.

---

How to Apply Heinlein’s Wisdom Today

You don’t have to agree with 100% of Heinlein’s advice to benefit from his core philosophy. Here is how you can synthesize his business habits for the modern writing era:

• Treat writing like a job: Show up consistently. Word counts matter.
• Embrace completion: Fight the urge to abandon projects when the initial dopamine rush fades. Push through the messy middle and type “The End.”
• Find a balance on revisions: Respect modern standards of quality, but beware of “perfectionism paralysis.” Set a deadline for your edits, and once the book is strong, let it go into the world.
• Detach your ego from rejection: Rejections aren’t personal failures; they are simply shipping expenses on the road to publication.

Final Thoughts

Robert A. Heinlein’s five rules remind us that writing is both an art and a business. While his third rule—avoiding major rewrites unless requested by an editor—remains a hot-button debate in writers’ circles, the underlying mindset is bulletproof: produce, finish, submit, and repeat.

What do you think? Can modern authors survive by following Heinlein’s strict “no rewriting” policy, or is rule number three a relic of a bygone era? Let us know your thoughts in the comments below!

…

Day 198 – Robert Heinlein’s five business habits for writers

…

Master the Craft: 5 Business Habits of Robert A. Heinlein (And Why One is So Contested)

When people think of Robert A. Heinlein, they picture a grandmaster of science fiction. Alongside Isaac Asimov and Arthur C. Clarke, Heinlein was one of the “Big Three” writers who shaped the genre during its Golden Age, penning timeless classics like Starship Troopers, Stranger in Strange Land, and The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress.

However, Heinlein was more than just a visionary storyteller; he was a disciplined professional. Long before he became a household name, he treated writing not as a fragile artistic muse, but as a hard-nosed business.

In his famous essay “On the Writing of Speculative Fiction” (and later expanded in letters and his collection Grumbles from the Grave), Heinlein laid out five simple rules for writing success. They sound deceptively easy, but together, they form a rigorous boot camp for any aspiring author.

While four of these rules are widely accepted wisdom in the writing community, the third rule remains a fierce point of debate among authors, editors, and writing coaches to this day.

Let’s break down Heinlein’s five business rules, examine why they work, and dive into the controversy surrounding rule number three.

---

Heinlein’s 5 Rules for Writers

Heinlein stated these rules with trademark bluntness. If you want to make a living as a writer, he argued, you only need to follow these steps:

1. You must write.
2. You must finish what you start.
3. You must refrain from rewriting except to editorial order. (The Contested One)
4. You must put the work on the market.
5. You must keep the work on the market until it is sold.

At a glance, this looks like a blueprint for industrial-scale content production. Let’s look at each one to understand the philosophy behind the master’s machine.

---

Rule 1: You must write.

It sounds painfully obvious, but millions of aspiring writers fail at the very first hurdle. They talk about writing, they think about writing, and they outline for years. Heinlein’s point is that a writer writes. Ideas are worthless until they hit the page. You cannot call yourself a writer based on your potential; you are only a writer based on your output.

Rule 2: You must finish what you start.

Half-written manuscripts sitting in a digital graveyard earn zero dollars and tell zero stories. Heinlein argued that writers who constantly abandon projects to start “better” ideas train themselves in the habit of quitting. Finishing a flawed book teaches you infinitely more than abandoning a brilliant premise at Chapter Three.

Rule 3: You must refrain from rewriting except to editorial order.

Cue the record scratch.

This is where the collective groan of the modern writing community echoes across the internet.

In Heinlein’s view, endlessly tweaking, polishing, and revising your own work is a trap—a form of procrastination disguised as perfectionism. He believed that the longer a manuscript sat on your desk, the colder it got, and the more likely you were to tinker it to death. Furthermore, if you are revising endlessly before selling, you aren’t producing new work. Write it, get it as right as you can the first time, and move on. Revise only when a paying editor tells you what needs to be fixed.

Why is this rule so contestible today? Modern creative writing culture is built on the altar of the revision. Today’s authors are told that “writing is rewriting,” and that the real magic happens in drafts two, three, and four (and beyond). Writers work with critique partners, developmental editors, and beta readers to refine pacing, deepen character arcs, and fix plot holes before ever submitting a manuscript to a publisher or self-publishing platform.

Critics of Heinlein’s third rule argue that:

• Writing standards have changed: Readers and publishers expect a higher level of polish in a first submission today than they did in the mid-20th-century pulp magazine era.
• Heinlein was a genetic anomaly: Heinlein famously claimed that his first drafts required virtually no corrections. Not every writer possesses the preternatural internal editor that Heinlein had.
• Self-publishing demands quality control: In the indie publishing boom, authors act as their own publishers. If you don’t revise your work heavily before hitting “publish,” the reviews will be merciless.

The Defense of Rule 3: To be fair to Heinlein, his rule is often misunderstood. He wasn’t saying “turn in sloppy first drafts.” He was saying, “Trust your initial creative instinct, finish the book, and get it out the door.” He wanted writers to avoid the endless loop of self-doubt where a manuscript is trapped in revision purgatory for five years. For high-output authors (especially in genres like sci-fi, fantasy, and romance), over-editing can indeed be a profit-killing waste of time.

Rule 4: You must put the work on the market.

A manuscript gathering dust in a drawer or a hidden folder on your desktop has a success rate of 0%. Heinlein was ruthless about this: a writer’s job doesn’t end when the typing stops. You have to submit the work to agents, publishers, or—in today’s landscape—platforms where readers can buy it. Fear of rejection keeps too many great stories locked away. Put the product on the shelf.

Rule 5: You must keep the work on the market until it is sold.

If magazine A rejects your short story, send it to magazine B. If publisher X passes on your novel, submit it to publisher Y (or self-publish it). Heinlein understood the statistics of the business. Rejection is rarely a definitive judgment of a story’s quality; often, it’s just a mismatch of taste, timing, or market trends. A professional writer keeps the inventory circulating until it finds a home.

---

How to Apply Heinlein’s Wisdom Today

You don’t have to agree with 100% of Heinlein’s advice to benefit from his core philosophy. Here is how you can synthesize his business habits for the modern writing era:

• Treat writing like a job: Show up consistently. Word counts matter.
• Embrace completion: Fight the urge to abandon projects when the initial dopamine rush fades. Push through the messy middle and type “The End.”
• Find a balance on revisions: Respect modern standards of quality, but beware of “perfectionism paralysis.” Set a deadline for your edits, and once the book is strong, let it go into the world.
• Detach your ego from rejection: Rejections aren’t personal failures; they are simply shipping expenses on the road to publication.

Final Thoughts

Robert A. Heinlein’s five rules remind us that writing is both an art and a business. While his third rule—avoiding major rewrites unless requested by an editor—remains a hot-button debate in writers’ circles, the underlying mindset is bulletproof: produce, finish, submit, and repeat.

What do you think? Can modern authors survive by following Heinlein’s strict “no rewriting” policy, or is rule number three a relic of a bygone era? Let us know your thoughts in the comments below!

…

Day 197 – Being Free to Choose

…

Fearless Creation: Decoding Langston Hughes on Artistic Freedom and Courage

“An artist must be free to choose what he does, certainly, but he must also never be afraid to do what he might choose.” — Langston Hughes

Art is often romanticised as a peaceful sanctuary of self-expression. We picture the painter in a sunlit studio, the writer with a blank page waiting for inspiration, or the musician plucking chords in quiet solitude. But true art has never really been about comfort. It has always been about courage.

Few literary figures understood the dual burden of freedom and fear better than Langston Hughes. As a leading voice of the Harlem Renaissance, Hughes used his poetry, plays, and prose to capture the rhythm of jazz, the pain of segregation, and the enduring resilience of Black America. He didn’t just write about freedom; he practised it on the page.

In this powerful quote, Hughes separates the concept of artistic freedom from the courage required to execute it. Let’s dive deep into what this means for creators, innovators, and anyone trying to live an authentic life.

---

Part 1: “An artist must be free to choose what he does, certainly…”

The first half of Hughes’s statement champions autonomy. On paper, freedom of choice sounds simple. As an artist, you decide your medium, your subject matter, your tone, and your audience. You hold the brush, the pen, or the microphone.

However, true artistic choice is constantly under siege. Creators face immense external pressures:

• Market Demands: Algorithms, publishers, and galleries often reward what is familiar, marketable, and safe.
• Societal Expectations: Audiences and critics often want artists to stay in their lane, repeating past successes rather than evolving.
• Censorship: Throughout history—and continuing today—authorities and cultural gatekeepers actively attempt to restrict what artists are allowed to explore.

Hughes knew firsthand the pressure to conform. Writing in the mid-20th century, he was often told by critics (both white and Black) how a Black writer “should” portray the African American experience. Some wanted him to write respectable, uplifting propaganda; others wanted him to cater to white voyeurism.

Hughes rejected these boxes. He chose to write about the blues, the working class, the marginalised, and the joyful. He insisted on his right to choose his own canvas. But as he reminds us in the second half of his quote, having the right to choose is only half the battle.

---

Part 2: “…but he must also never be afraid to do what he might choose.”

Here is where the quote transforms from a statement on liberty into a challenge on bravery.

You can have all the freedom in the world, but if you are paralysed by the fear of the consequences, that freedom is useless. Hughes suggests that the scariest part of being an artist isn’t the blank page—it’s the realisation of where your own creative instincts might lead you.

What happens when your choices lead you to:

• Expose uncomfortable truths? (About society, politics, or your own family?)
• Risk failure or ridicule? (Putting out a piece of work that completely misses the mark?)
• Alienate your audience? (Challenging the very people who supported your previous work?)
• Discover something dark within yourself? (Honest art requires confronting our own flaws, biases, and sorrows.)

Fear is the silent killer of originality. It whispers, “What will they think?” or “You’re going to get cancelled, mocked, or ignored.” To combat this, Hughes argues that an artist must cultivate a radical lack of fear toward their own potential. You must be willing to follow your muse down dark alleys, into political firestorms, or through experimental phases that defy logic.

---

Why This Quote Matters Beyond the Art World

You don’t have to be a published poet or a gallery-represented painter to live by Langston Hughes’s words. In a broader sense, we are all artists of our own lives.

Every day, we make choices about our careers, our relationships, our values, and our voices. We might have the theoretical freedom to change jobs, speak truth to power, or pursue an unconventional path, but we often hold ourselves back because we are terrified of what we might discover—or what others might say—if we actually follow through.

Hughes’s quote is a call to action for anyone feeling stuck:

1. Claim your autonomy: Stop waiting for permission to pursue what matters to you.
2. Face your internal resistance: Acknowledge that the fear of judgment or failure is normal, but refuse to let it dictate your output.
3. Trust your instincts: Be brave enough to execute the ideas that scare you just a little bit. Usually, that’s where the magic is.

---

Final Thoughts

Langston Hughes lived his art fearlessly. He wrote about race in America with an unflinching honesty that infuriated bigots and challenged the status quo. He didn’t shy away from the difficult choices, and because of that, his voice echoes powerfully across generations.

Artistic freedom is a fragile gift, but it is powerless without courage. As you create, build, or simply try to navigate your own path today, remember Hughes’s wisdom. Choose what you want to do—and then, with zero hesitation, have the courage to actually do it.

---

What creative choices have you been hesitating to make out of fear? How do you overcome the pressure to conform in your work? Let us know in the comments below!

…

Day 197 – Being Free to Choose

…

Fearless Creation: Decoding Langston Hughes on Artistic Freedom and Courage

“An artist must be free to choose what he does, certainly, but he must also never be afraid to do what he might choose.” — Langston Hughes

Art is often romanticised as a peaceful sanctuary of self-expression. We picture the painter in a sunlit studio, the writer with a blank page waiting for inspiration, or the musician plucking chords in quiet solitude. But true art has never really been about comfort. It has always been about courage.

Few literary figures understood the dual burden of freedom and fear better than Langston Hughes. As a leading voice of the Harlem Renaissance, Hughes used his poetry, plays, and prose to capture the rhythm of jazz, the pain of segregation, and the enduring resilience of Black America. He didn’t just write about freedom; he practised it on the page.

In this powerful quote, Hughes separates the concept of artistic freedom from the courage required to execute it. Let’s dive deep into what this means for creators, innovators, and anyone trying to live an authentic life.

---

Part 1: “An artist must be free to choose what he does, certainly…”

The first half of Hughes’s statement champions autonomy. On paper, freedom of choice sounds simple. As an artist, you decide your medium, your subject matter, your tone, and your audience. You hold the brush, the pen, or the microphone.

However, true artistic choice is constantly under siege. Creators face immense external pressures:

• Market Demands: Algorithms, publishers, and galleries often reward what is familiar, marketable, and safe.
• Societal Expectations: Audiences and critics often want artists to stay in their lane, repeating past successes rather than evolving.
• Censorship: Throughout history—and continuing today—authorities and cultural gatekeepers actively attempt to restrict what artists are allowed to explore.

Hughes knew firsthand the pressure to conform. Writing in the mid-20th century, he was often told by critics (both white and Black) how a Black writer “should” portray the African American experience. Some wanted him to write respectable, uplifting propaganda; others wanted him to cater to white voyeurism.

Hughes rejected these boxes. He chose to write about the blues, the working class, the marginalised, and the joyful. He insisted on his right to choose his own canvas. But as he reminds us in the second half of his quote, having the right to choose is only half the battle.

---

Part 2: “…but he must also never be afraid to do what he might choose.”

Here is where the quote transforms from a statement on liberty into a challenge on bravery.

You can have all the freedom in the world, but if you are paralysed by the fear of the consequences, that freedom is useless. Hughes suggests that the scariest part of being an artist isn’t the blank page—it’s the realisation of where your own creative instincts might lead you.

What happens when your choices lead you to:

• Expose uncomfortable truths? (About society, politics, or your own family?)
• Risk failure or ridicule? (Putting out a piece of work that completely misses the mark?)
• Alienate your audience? (Challenging the very people who supported your previous work?)
• Discover something dark within yourself? (Honest art requires confronting our own flaws, biases, and sorrows.)

Fear is the silent killer of originality. It whispers, “What will they think?” or “You’re going to get cancelled, mocked, or ignored.” To combat this, Hughes argues that an artist must cultivate a radical lack of fear toward their own potential. You must be willing to follow your muse down dark alleys, into political firestorms, or through experimental phases that defy logic.

---

Why This Quote Matters Beyond the Art World

You don’t have to be a published poet or a gallery-represented painter to live by Langston Hughes’s words. In a broader sense, we are all artists of our own lives.

Every day, we make choices about our careers, our relationships, our values, and our voices. We might have the theoretical freedom to change jobs, speak truth to power, or pursue an unconventional path, but we often hold ourselves back because we are terrified of what we might discover—or what others might say—if we actually follow through.

Hughes’s quote is a call to action for anyone feeling stuck:

1. Claim your autonomy: Stop waiting for permission to pursue what matters to you.
2. Face your internal resistance: Acknowledge that the fear of judgment or failure is normal, but refuse to let it dictate your output.
3. Trust your instincts: Be brave enough to execute the ideas that scare you just a little bit. Usually, that’s where the magic is.

---

Final Thoughts

Langston Hughes lived his art fearlessly. He wrote about race in America with an unflinching honesty that infuriated bigots and challenged the status quo. He didn’t shy away from the difficult choices, and because of that, his voice echoes powerfully across generations.

Artistic freedom is a fragile gift, but it is powerless without courage. As you create, build, or simply try to navigate your own path today, remember Hughes’s wisdom. Choose what you want to do—and then, with zero hesitation, have the courage to actually do it.

---

What creative choices have you been hesitating to make out of fear? How do you overcome the pressure to conform in your work? Let us know in the comments below!

…