The tale, tattled.

I’ve had a few inquiries about just what type of novel I’d be writing, but I’m not comfortable sharing today’s work, because mostly it’s still in my head, which is not a great start, but I am the Dark Mistress of the Procrastination Underworld for a reason.


So, let me tell you about this bite I’ve bitten. It’s a horror story, a genre I can’t bring myself to read let alone write about, but the seeds have been sown and the idea has been germinating and now I’m compelled to reap the harvest and first just stop with the gardening metaphors.

Just before leaving the East Coast, I’d been working at an historic hotel that, like most buildings it’s age, was rumoured to be haunted. While I’d never seen evidence of haunting, I got to thinking. What if the hotel wasn’t haunted? What if the hotel was alive? What if someone did something to her to make her mad? What would she do? Suppose there was someone who worked there that she loved and wanted to protect?

And what got me to thinking about this? Well, someone in the staff cafeteria asked me if I was going to continue writing on the West Coast, and what would I be writing about. While one of my coworkers said to the questioner “There’s food on the West Coast too ya know”, and I laughed, I did say maybe I’d write a book, and that’s when the train of thought really picked up steam and I spun part of the tale to my table mates that day, and then some other friends, and they all seemed into the idea. So, totally not my fault that I now must scare the crap outta myself for the next thirty days writing this.

Now, while the physical plant of the hotel does serve as a rough blueprint for the novel’s hotel, the rest is pure fiction. My former coworkers need not worry about seeing themselves, or a version of themselves, in my words. My hotel is not located in Halifax, either. I’ve chosen St. John’s, my hometown, as the locale, for a number of reasons. Newfoundland is a place where if there be ghosts? There be ghosts there. A magical land where anything can happen, and the richness of it’s storytelling culture suits my novel just fine.

So that’s the tale, tattled. The origins revealed. And it’s going to unravelling in real time, over the next month. And I’ll get right down to my first two thousand words soon–I still have five hours til midnight.


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