The woes of writer’s block

It has been weeks since I’ve written anything – my fountain of imagination and creativity has dried up, a drought of some sort. Is it my day job? Never stopped me before. Is it that I’ve been feeling especially exhausted and in dire need of a vacation? Maybe. I started the second instalment of the Bloodlust Series in August and successfully completed Part One of the book but now I draw a blank. The characters float in limbo waiting for my direction, their lips partially parted to start their dialogue – at least they’re dressed. Why am I lost on where to begin? I know where I want the story to be at the end of Part Two, the major events, hell I’ve written the finale. A few years back I was in a hypnosis session where I was asked if there was anything I wanted to accomplish in life. I said, “Yes, I want to write.” The hypnotist then said, “every time you open your laptop, may you always write something.” It didn’t work – anything that woman said didn’t work.

how it all started...

Growing up I did not care much for reading or writing - English was my worst subject in school. I remember the first paper I wrote in university - I got a C and cried. It was when I was traveling through California during my second or third year in university that I picked up my first romance novel. The place I was living had no TV and computer so reading was my only form of entertainment. Since I was not a permanent resident, I had no access to the library but there was a small bookshop just outside selling used books for 25 cents. This was where I purchased Prisoner of My Desire by Johanna Lindsey. First, I must explain why I chose to purchase that book. Growing up, my mother would always take my sister and me to the local library. Directly next to the front entrance was a wall of romance novels - I remember hearing my mother tell me not to look upon those books, that to read them was a sin. Well, that day at the lovely small bookshop I decided to sin. Since that day, I was devouring romance novels as a way to escape my mundane life. I maintained my loyalty to Johanna Lindsey reading almost any of her novels I could get my hands on but also read many others from historical to paranormal to anything I found interesting – always drawn to strong female characters and rugged men. It was a few years later, after returning home to Toronto, while sitting on the train that an idea started to form. I tried writing here and there but it wasn't until my husband was deathly ill that in a moment of pure vulnerability I vowed to do it, vowed to create stories for women like myself who need that escape and hope. By the way, my husband recovered and my first novel was dedicated to him.