The Glorious 14th...

 And so it has come to pass, that just like all the other attempts to get Buffy going again since about 2018, New Sunnydale has been royally stomped.

I'm sorry for Sarah Michelle Gellar but less sympathetic to the rest of you.

I was part of an incredible series of events from 2009 onwards which landed me with a vampire flatmate in Partick, an email correspondence with a Buffy cast member, a trek across America to a fateful meeting on Sunset Boulevard, the against-all-odds publication of Dear Miss Landau and also...

I also wrote four novellas about Drusilla, jointly named the Dru Quartet. Two can be found on Archive of Our Own, but the last two have been held back because I believe I found a lost story arc from the original series which was meant to happen but didn't.

This is the true continuation of Buffy. At least I think it is. I could put the other novellas in the Archive right now if I wanted, but I don't like self-publishing and I don't want to throw away my potential marketing hook. But I'm a real published author, and I can guarantee the other four were written to the same standard or better than Dear Miss Landau.

This old article from the Huffington Post UK explains the original "Eureka" moment.

And everything fell together as if by magic, or even intelligent design. It was quite uncanny.

But then nobody did anything, and I began to get the odd sense that, if there is a God, He may be merciful, but He sure as Hell ain't democratic. You do it His way or you get royally stomped.

And from my unique perspective, that's what's been happening to you for the last fifteen years or so.

Whit Anderson - stomped.

First Buffy reboot - stomped.

Joss Whedon - royally stomped!

Slayers audio drama - stomped.

And now...

Buffy the Vampire Slayer : New Sunnydale - stomped.

Funnily enough, because I'd done exactly what it seemed I'd been meant to do (steal the Enterprise for my Helen of Troy), my personal and professional problems were solved with an uncanny mathematical precision.

I started trying to tell the fanbase and, apart from some wonderful exceptions (love you, Rena Lou!) received either silence or abuse.

You're really not helping yourselves here.

A brief reality check:

Will someone else pick up the pilot? No.

Will New Sunnydale be transferred to another streaming service? No.

Will a petition work? No.

Will arguing endlessly about it on social media achieve anything at all? No, never in a million years!

So what do you do?

Well, kids, you could actually step back from your fevered fandangos on the keyboards, apply some calm rational thinking, beep me politely and we'll see what can actually be done.

I'm not holding my breath, but here's a guide for you to follow:

The Fargo Farrago.

This recent article of mine also predicted all this, and it's currently making me feel like retreating to my mountain lair like Dr. Evil, laughing maniacally as I go!

Buffy the Infantry Officer.

I might even be content to do so, because I know what the lost story arc is. I can look at it any time I like. I can live with that. It's like being the only man in the world with the restored print of Lawrence of Arabia. I try to tell you, you shake your heads and say, "nah, we want to stick with the crappy 1971 TV version," I shrug my shoulders and turn away.

It doesn't have to be this way.

And for me, it's like fate or destiny just reminded me of all this. There is one specific date every year which reminds me of Buffy, Dru, Juliet Landau, the Dru Quartet, everything. Just one.

14th March. That's the date I met Juliet Landau on Sunset Boulevard.

It's also the date (one year later) that a publisher discovered me just after I'd finished writing the manuscript of Dear Miss Landau.

Think about the odds against that happening. You'd have a better chance of winning the National Lottery.

I remember I emailed Juliet Landau that very day and said "okay, I give up. I believe in fate and destiny."

And now it's the day Buffy II got the bullet.

You know, I think God's got quite a wicked sense of humour.

But He must be running out of patience with you.