Black Library Rocks Again


It’s back! At long bloody last the big BL is back.

I was so pleased when I discovered this that I accidently opened a bottle of wine and drank half of it whilst skimming through the pages.

I am pleased for two reasons.

1) I live in the middle of no where and find it difficult to get into town to buy my books. Instead I mostly buy them online. I especially like browsing the black library’s “upcoming titles” page and adding them all to my wish list.

2) This year they are accepting open submissions from aspiring writers. This is really great news. I will be forever writing now and poor Jems will never see me again.

Okay, well maybe she will. Maybe when I go make some tea or I dunno, get more wine perhaps.

M 🙂

Author: Mark S Thompson

Okay, so these things are kind of hit and miss. If you’re reading this then I am thankful to you for taking the time out of your day to do so. I’ll be honest, when I think of myself as a writer, I kinda cringe. Don’t get me wrong, it is the dream, it's​ just I never really believe it will go anywhere. When I think back to the day that I first knew I loved writing, and I mean really knew, I see myself sitting in an English lesson at secondary school. The school was called Wrotham and is in the county of Kent, England. As far as I know, it's still there. English was far and away my favourite subject. The best bit was when the teacher gave the class a selection of words and asked us to make up a story that either contained those words or was about those words, you know. At other times we would be given the first sentence and then write what happens next. Good times. Many times my work would reflect what I had recently read and it would be okay. Nothing special, just okay. On one occasion though I wrote about a merman called Finchy and can remember going into so much depth and detail about him and the underwater kingdom he lived in. I really enjoyed writing that and it must have shown because my teacher commented on it. She was really impressed and loved the story. That was it for me, my moment. Now when I write I think back to those great times and to that story. Hopefully, I’ll write something that you, the reader, will be moved to comment on. For me, there is no greater elixir

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