GEUST POST: Writers Are The Luckiest by James Wearne


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In my other life I am a chef. That means working late on Saturday night, even though I had a 6:30 AM train to catch in the morning. Still, I managed to get out of the restaurant by midnight and caught the subway home with the late night party people and other tired service workers.  I got a few hours sleep once the adrenaline of the service had died down in my veins, and then I was dragging myself out of bed with not as much sleep as I would like, but enough to survive.

I stumbled down to the shower and the hot blast of water shocked consciousness back into my body. I gulped down a quick coffee, picked up my previously packed bags, and went outside to find that the heavens had decided that this was the night to dump a good foot of snow on Toronto.

My plan had been to catch the subway, but that involved a fifteen minute walk to the station and I didn’t much look forward to wheeling my suitcase through the snow. Plus, who knows what havoc the weather would have done to the transport system.  I pulled out my phone and called a cab.

It was the driver’s first fare of the day and he was decidedly chirpy. He played me his favourite Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan album, as he drove 30 km/h through the slush filled streets, for fear of black ice. It was too early for any of the roads to have been plowed. I sat in the back getting tenser and tenser for fear of missing the train. He chatted on seemingly blissfully unaware of my worry.

He delivered me with ten minutes to spare and I raced through the almost empty station; the squeak in my suitcase wheels echoing in the ridiculously high ceilings of the terminal.  

When I made it to my gate, I needn’t have worried. There was still a long line of people waiting to board.  There seemed to be two main types of travellers, the bored business people heading to do business in Detroit or London, and the students (like me) and backpackers, who were taking advantage of the cheap early morning rates.

I brought up my ticket on my phone, praising the new technology, scanned it and boarded the train, securing my suitcase in the overhead compartment. The seat beside me, so far, was free and I feared that every person that boarded was going to take it.  Thankfully, the doors were closed and I realized I would be able to stretch out. I put my computer bag on the seat beside me, and had a look around.

Most of the other passengers were bundling up their winter jackets to use as pillows, or were staring at the phones, laptops, tablets, playing games, movies, or scrolling through Facebook.  A few of the business types were reluctantly checking emails, files, and spreadsheets, with the resigned faces of those with responsibility weary lives. They were doing anything to kill the time till we pulled into Windsor.

I seemed to be the only one who was excited. Despite feeling tired - nothing a second coffee couldn’t cure - before me were four glorious hours of uninterrupted time that I could dedicate to writing. I pulled out my pen and moleskine journal, put the tray down in front of me, turned to a blank page and was overcome by a feeling that having writing in my life made me one of the luckiest people alive.  

Don’t get me wrong - writing is hard frustrating work, with little reward unless you happen to hit the big time.

Yet, I still feel lucky. It is more than the fact I am never bored or killing time because in those moments I get to write. It is more than the sense of purpose that fills me as I put pen to page. It’s that I get to hear my characters calling; and as the snowy fields of southern Ontario are flying by the window of the train, I get to discover their stories.


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The 21st century has arrived, yet wizardry lurks in the musty libraries of the past. LYNX, a new agent for Supernatural Intelligence, believes the time has come to throw away the robes and rituals and revolutionize magic. Her colleagues are old school and don’t trust her. However, when a break-in occurs at the National Gallery of London, she has a chance to show what she can do. 

What she does not count on is having to baby sit Andy the thief or having her best friend killed and accused of treason. As she tries to prove his innocence, and pay off a debt the thief owes to dangerous, paranormal money-lenders, she finds herself falling in love with the handsome Andy. Out-gunned and out-powered, she has to fight to stay alive in order to find out if her love is real or if messing with magic will be her downfall.

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Author Bio: With ancestors who were pirates, James inherited a restless soul. Born in Australia, he currently lives in a Zen temple in Toronto with his wife and purple bear.

Also, thank you so much for the offer. I will bring it up to Mr. Wearne and see what he thinks about it. I think that would be a great opportunity and I will get back to you about it as soon as possible. Thank you again.
You have yourself a great week too.


Wild Rose Press:

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