Samhain Publishing Ltd. Weblog

Going for Gold!

So Canada hasn’t beaten Russia in hockey since the 1960’s, at least in the Olympics. Sat down and watched the game tonight, which is totally unlike me, but I couldn’t stop myself. The whole country has been transformed into a wingnut’s paradise and it infected me. That’s my only excuse. I sat there for all three periods and thought that the only thing better than watching the game would have been being there. The stands blood red with jerseys and every throat must have been raw by the end of the game. I know I let out a yell or two myself. Especially when Staal went down.

Alas the writerly life. I have to work during the day to make the money to live out my dreams at the keyboard at night. Working two jobs has been taking its toll lately. That and we’re in the depths of winter up here in the Great White North, without a foreseeable break until late April. It’s like a slump in my training. I needed some get up and go, some serious inspiration! I needed to write this blog! So I slipped away and watched the team with Syd the kid (from my home province, not that I’m overly proud or anything) take Russia to school with a 7-3. And you know what? It was exactly the shot in the arm that I needed. The chapters I’m working on sped through my fingers! I’m excited about getting back to work tomorrow, for both jobs. Heck, I’m just excited and jazzed, right now.

Canada is playing for a medal! It’s our game! Let’s show the world how we bring it when you play on our pond! My heart is racing, I’m pumped for Friday’s game! Come on keyboard, we’ve got some writing to do!

Quirky and Thankful

This past week was Thanksgiving in Canada. I don’t know how other people do it, but we always tell some of our favourite stories around the table. The only requirement is that the stories are quirky and things for which we are thankful. I had two. One story was about how I met my friend, the other about how my cat found me.

Summer Movie Memories

Summertime might mean a lot of things to different people. A few might be excited for the chance to go camping. Others might see this as the time for them to get their gardening done. Some might look forward to the family vacation to Disneyworld. Ever since I can remember, I’ve looked forward to the summer movie season. The quest for that summer’s great film became a ritual that my family still performs, though perhaps not as religiously as when we were all younger. Those summer adventures have been the pegs on which I hang some of my most important memories.

One of my favourite summer movies as a kid (I know I’m dating myself) was E. T. Here’s this unpopular kid who finds an alien! He gets special powers! He got to fly across the moon! I begged every relative I had in my small eastern town to take me. I saw it in the theatres five times, and whenever I hear John Williams’ score soaring it still takes my heart with it, racing across that moon. E.T. made one of the toughest summers I’ve ever had endurable.

As I grew up, other movies became the summer flick I had to go see as many times as I could. The Never-ending Story I saw while ‘suffering’ (insert preteen angst) through a family camping in P.E.I. Willow was playing in an old release theatre when I got to see on the big screen with my dad. Time spent alone with him was and is scarce and treasured. Independence Day was the next huge blockbuster I had to see with my friend who was soon to move away. Pirates of the Caribbean I saw with my mother just after her open heart surgery. The movies and memories always seem to go hand in hand.
I am moving this summer to a new city. I don’t know anyone there, yet. My next real-life adventure is going to be upon me too soon. But I look forward to finding this year’s summer flick, to tuck away in my memory box so I can say ‘That’s the movie I saw when…’

What’s your favourite summer flick movie or memory?

What every writer needs...

Why every writer should have a cat:
1. Cats are more intelligent than dogs and can seduce the muse to come to you with their witty repartee
2. Cats are more graceful than dogs and can inspire your words to flow from your pen (or fingers) with a fluid ease that would make other writers weep (except my darling who conjures images of a 15 pound bull in a china shop).
3. With a cat around, you will never fall into the trap of thinking you are God/dess; you are then strengthened for any criticisms.
4. They provide hours of endless entertainment!
5. Writing is lonely, and cats are content if they can curl up somewhere near you (in my case, it’s between me and my keyboard and/or screen but I really didn’t need to see in order to write), in case you need to know you aren’t all alone.

Why every writer should have a dog:
1. Dogs force you to interact with other people (even if it is with neighbours who would like to shoot you at 3am). This is fodder for scenes and characters.
2. Dogs force you to be active (you have to take them for walks or they go nuts, at least in my experience) which is good for the blood, then the brain, then the writing!
3. Dogs think you are God/dess, which is always good for when the critics tear you down.
4. They provide hours of entertainment!
5. Writing is lonely and you never know when your feet might get cold, so they both let you know they are there and serve a vital foot function.

After much debate, umms, ahhs, sighs of frustration and false starts, I decided to write a purely fun post for the blog today. It’s important to smile in these tough times. These lists are merely provided for entertainment purposes. I hope you enjoy.

So I write paranormal/romance, is that so wrong?

My friends get the biggest kick out of telling new people that I’m a writer. No, scratch that, that I’m a published author. Go onto Chapters online and there you’ll see my name, sharing space with Kaye Chambers, emblazoned across my soon-to-be-released book. Yep, I’m an author. People’s eyes light up, they get ready to be impressed and they ask the next question. “What do you write about?”

My November (and beyond) dreams

I’d always dreamed about being an ‘author’. It held a mystical allure, to be someone who’d actually written one of the magical, time-travelling, hero-filled haven that I’d retreated to after ‘discovering’ them in high school. I was a Goth before there was such a thing, reading fantasy (Anne McCaffrey and Robin McKinley were two of my favourites since sixth grade), dabbling in horror (a few Stephen Kings here and there), while sticking to the curriculum of approved Canadian classics (Alice Munro or Margaret Atwood anyone?) for school. But to actually be one of the people who’d made these worlds, wizards they had to be. Dare I ever try to enter their world?

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.