Trailer music. It’s a thing. It’s an awesome, fire everything, run for your friggin life, kill the bastard, save the world, kiss the girl or boy or puppy, don’t look down, don’t let go, EPIC thing.

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I like it.  A lot.

When I’m sitting in front of my computer screen, words gone dry and inspiration and imagination taking a holiday somewhere the cocktails have tiny umbrellas, I call on the gods and goddesses of epic music and I am saved.

Praise be! Hallelujah!  (Is it bad I had to look up how to spell that? Sorry baby Jebus.)

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I am baking while I write the blog this week. It is a layer cake of spongy perfection called ‘This just ain’t right’. And atop its peaks I have laid a ripe, red cherry of disappointment to compliment  the bitterness.

Here is said cake, and said cherry, surrounded by a bunch of little book fairies who are trying very hard to distract me and convince me that the cake is edible in some way, but are failing miserably.

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Get to the point, I hear you say? Righto then.

Names.  More specifically, writers’ names.

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Overwhelming is the word of the day, I’ve decided.

No, wait. Scratch that.

As I head up the slopes of Mount I-Wanna-Publish-a-book, I think overwhelming is word of the trek. This writing thing is complex. Not just landing the idea, then getting the words on paper, in the right order, with correct spelling, pacing, structure and heart, but moving those precious little babies from my world into the big, wide, scary world out there.

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SO MUCH TO DO. BRAIN HURTS.

Deep breath, choose a foothold.

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