Writer’s Block (Party!)

banffspringsWriter’s Block: a vast concrete edifice, one square mile in size and rising countless not-quite-finished stories into the dazzling sky of Silent City. 
The enticing red light district known as Muse Mews is just down the street, but there’s always construction going on between it and the Block, so it’s actually pretty hard to get to.
Writers are continually arriving at the Block and leaving at all times of the day and night. It’s a bustling, happening place. Sort of. Hard to find words for it, actually. It’s a kind of hotel slash spa slash prison slash drug store slash slash slash SLASH
Sorry. Where was I? Writers are arriving and leaving all the time. When you get to the Block, you find to your surprise a dazzling array of perks and conveniences. The lobby is well-lit. Very well-lit. And clean. And neat. And the rooms are actually quite comfortable and spacious. Most of them have well-stocked mini-bars and comfy beds and HD TV’s and gaming consoles and big windows with great views where you can stand for hours, looking out over Silent City, thinking about all the great new stuff you’re going to write. Soon. 
You discover to your relief that the Block is not the house of misery and gloom one might expect it to be. People who aren’t writers are dropping by at all hours of the day and night because the Block has become known for its wild parties. And wow, the stuff that happens at these parties. Good times. Crazy times. The strange thing is, though, the writers themselves are almost never to be found partying. They’re more likely to be in the lobby, milling around in their pajamas (pyjamas? why are there two spellings… you should Google that), looking for someone to tell about this great idea they have for a story about a writer who can’t write.
Just a few odd things about the place, though. Unlike the Hotel California, you can’t check out any time you like. There’s never anyone at the front desk. And suddenly you can’t find the door. Where was the door? But you can leave. Yes, you can. Just not any time you like. Someone hands you a pencil and a pad of paper. You’re told you have to make your own exit.
So you stand there, listening to the all-night all-day party booming away on some story far above you. You could go back there. Or maybe do something else. You haven’t even checked out the pool or the hot tub, after all.
Or, well, yes,  you could make your own exit. If only you knew how. You know how. You don’t know how. The party is getting louder. It sounds like such fun. Actually it sounds desperate and sad. You don’t know. Maybe there’s a story about that. Maybe you should just go back to your room and look out the window for a while and maybe a better idea will come to you.



  1. Jennifer Keane Mackinnon says:

    I sincerely hope that this is not about the experience of writing the third book of The Perilous Realm–my daughter and I are eagerly awaiting it! But no pressure… 😉

    • You won’t have to wait long, fortunately, because the third book — The Tree of Story — is already out.
      cheers, TW

      • Jennifer Keane Mackinnon says:

        I feel dumb for not knowing that, but also a bit annoyed that I haven’t seen it on display. I believe your publisher needs to do more to promote this fantastic series–not only for your benefit and their own, but for the many people who are missing the opportunity to read these wonderful works. I will head out to the bookstore, happy to have such a gift for the long weekend. My younger daughter will be delighted also. Cheers, best, and Happy Easter to you and yours. Above all, thank you for these wonderful books, which have nourished my imagination and my spirit.

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