Samhain Publishing Ltd. Weblog

I trip UP stairs, therefore I write

No, I’m not kidding. Most people fall down stairs, but not me. Nope. I have the unique and gravitationally challenging job of tripping up stairs. I’m also the yahoo who starts to eat her ice cream and winds up with it falling down between her boobs right before her boss comes around the corner. I run headlong into the door that is clearly labelled pull, holding a coffee. I stumble over a speed bump. I bend over on the first day of class and split my pants. Did I mention I’m the teacher? My mother often told me I was special…I just always felt like it involved the short bus.

Even for Me Released! and an excerpt

I cannot describe to you how absent I’ve been from my day job I’ve been because my very first publication is now available through Samhain! I have had butterflies in my stomach and tried to write this blog a thousand times. I’ve always loved telling stories but grew up painfully shy. Writing seemed like the perfect occupation. No one ever saw you. They didn’t mock you or try to get you to be their picture perfect ideal of what they thought the story should be. But therein lies the rub, as Hamlet would say.

Nothing comes from nothing. The stories and characters that I create are all pieces of me that have come to life on a page through hope, blood, sweat and dreams. That’s why I’m so nervous. Perfect strangers are about to take a peak at what goes on in the dark recesses of my mind. I hope you like the ride as much as I do.

Even for Me by Taryn Blackthorne Excerpt

How's the what coming? Oooo look, shiny. Oh, the novel...right. Or Writer's Block

So I was sitting down, wondering what to write about for this blog episode of my merry-go-round ride (roller coasters scare me, okay?) of a writing career when IT hit me. Literally. The dreaded writer’s block.

It comes in all colours, leaves nothing but an oily residue on your blank page and is generally a giant pain in the patootie. At least it is for me. The trouble with my brand of block is it doesn’t feel like ‘average’ writer’s block. To me, writer’s block screams ‘HERE BE NO IDEAS, CONTINUE ONWARDS’. I’m a plotter, not a pantser, so before I even sit down to the computer screen, I have a general idea of what it is that I want to write and have little problem finding the spark of an idea when I don’t. It’s getting into the chair long enough to WRITE that flummoxes me.

I find a long list of things to do instead. *New computer needs to be deciphered = 1/2 hour lost *New music to entice the muse to come play = 45 minutes lost to iTunes *Shelf is dusty, must clean (in my defence, I’m not as bad as my mother who once scrubbed the face off of a decorative teddy bear soap because she saw dust bunny potential)

Roses on my table and leaves on my desk

There are roses on my table today. I just received them and they fill the house with their heady scent, making me think of my grandfather’s garden when I was a child.