story season

I seem to be preparing for winter hibernation much too early; before it even threatens snow. I walk through the library, judging books by their covers. I read voraciously in the mornings, when it’s still dark. In the daytime, I discover ideas for short stories I’d forgotten about. And last weekend, evenings were spent getting lost in a different kind of story. J and I discuss strategy over dinner, sharing our favourite parts of the […]

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it’s rain

Best background noise to read to. This was a few days ago. Last night there was rain, but there was intense thunder and flashing lightning, too, all around us, all the time. All summer I’ve been longing for a really good thunderstorm and then I got what I asked for, one so great it scared me for the first time since childhood (well, the tornado risk scared me, anyway). Yesterday I also went on roller

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we the animals of prey

Today I went to the library to write, a new library, which I like much better than my local one. This new one has many staircases and little nooks with desks and comfortable chairs, and windows with trees and light on the other side, and a fireplace. And it was quiet. I wrote so well. I’m working on a story that has a teenage boy as the protagonist and I love him so much, I

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reading and writing

J sort of accidentally added my novel draft to Goodreads. Well, he meant to do it, but he didn’t know I would feel weird about it. But that was days ago and I actually think it’s kind of amusing now. I hate the title and only two people in the world have read it. The book I’m reading now, Ilustrado, won an award before it was even published – maybe some of that luck will

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nine hours of sunlight

White wine on a sun-setting balcony as the humidity fades. They talk about Europe, about where they’re going and where they’ve been. I don’t say much. Instead, I slurp my wine and daydream about Germany, though my time there was too short and the things seen were too few. I daydream about Finland and Estonia and Slovenia and I daydream about Europe in general. The buildings, the people, the languages, the food. I go home

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me, writing

slow progress

After an hour and a half of reading my novel draft, making notes, and doing research, my eyes look like that. I take breaks to look out of the window of the coffee place, noticing how many people seem to mutter to themselves on their way to the subway. I try not to audibly exclaim over how good my chai latte is. Sometimes I feel weird about things like writing “chai latte” on my blog,

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my novel, printed

I got my novel printed out today – not printed printed, but just printed. Clear as mud? In truth, I’ve been sort of avoiding working on it since December. I’ve peeked in here and there and made some tweaks, but what I really need is to hold it in my hands and read it cover to cover. And as much as my Kindle-loving husband has convinced me e-books have merit, I need to read my

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storychord

I’m excited to announce that a short story of mine, Sorry Every Day, is featured in the latest issue of Storychord! The song and illustration featured alongside it are wonderful and everything works together perfectly. I love Storychord and I’m honoured to have been included. You can check it out here. Samantha’s Note, 2023: This story could be considered the prototype to The Quiet is Loud – it features the characters of Mary, her mother

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morning tracks

  Not very terribly exciting photos today, but picture-taking is difficult with a sleepy dog who needed at least seven more hours before being even remotely ready to play in the snow. I’ve been thinking lately about a lot of the books I liked when I was younger. I had a few favourite books, but the ones that I think about the most, years later, are the ones with some big adventure at the centre.

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nano_10_winner

so i’ve finished nanowrimo

It’s a humble PNG image, but to me it’s the most exciting one I’ve seen in a very long time. Today I finished NaNoWriMo. I wrote a novel. I almost want to put an exclamation mark on the end of that last sentence, but I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet. To me, my novel is just 28 little documents living in my computer and in my brain, nothing more. I might have mentioned

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