Guest post and giveaway: I wish for you by @camillaisley


If all your wishes could suddenly come true, what would you do?

A year ago when the love of her life dumped her for no apparent reason, Ally thought she had hit rock bottom. But now that she has seen him with another woman, and one she knows only too well, her life seems to have reached a whole new level of low.

Yet, when she stumbles across an ancient object infused with magical powers and a stranger with a dark past appears out of nowhere promising to grant all her wishes, she finds herself hoping again.

Suddenly Ally’s life is turned upside down; she has a mystery to solve, a rival to beat, a millenarian curse to break, and well, she wants to have some fun playing with her new “gifts”…

But can she wish her way to happily ever after?

How do I overcome writer’s block? I try to dream about it.

Writer’s block is one of the most daunting and most discussed topics for authors. I’ve read plenty of articles and posts on how to shoo this ever present villain away, and today I’ve decided to share my very own technique.

The type of writing block that affects me the most is lack of good ideas for plot development. Many writers have issues with execution, but that doesn’t apply to me. I find the actual writing easier, especially in my initial drafts as I use a free flowing approach that leaves me free not to worry too much about form. But if I don’t have the right idea to begin with, that’s a huge problem.

When an inspiration deficit strikes, I quit writing for the day and try to solve the problem at night when I go to bed. You know that moment when you lay your head on the pillow and you’re almost ready to sleep but not quite yet. In those precious cozy instants many people think about the day they had, or the one that is ahead of them, but not me. I think about my last chapter. I close my eyes, relax, and try to visualize the story I’m writing, especially when I’m not sure in what direction I should make it go.

I have imaginary conversations with my heroines; I talk to them as if they were my friends, which in a way I feel they are. I ask them what they want, or sometimes who they want. Then of course most of the times I fall asleep in the midst of this process, but guess what…my subconscious carries on. There are mornings when I wake up with the brightest ideas for plot twists and turns, get at my laptop, and type away all day. Unfortunately it doesn’t work every time, there are still days during which I stare dully at the word’s cursor flashing on the blank page before me as uninspired as ever. But when it works, it’s amazing; some of the best chapters of my book were born in a dream.


The Day After

I abruptly wake up thanks to the racking sound of my alarm clock piercing deeply into my skull. I come to a sitting position and silence the damn thing, slamming my right hand on the off button.

My head is spinning, I feel kind of ill, and as soon as my comatose brain regains consciousness I remember why, which definitely isn’t a good thing. In fact, as my memory comes back I experience a stream of increasingly awful emotions. It starts with a choking pain, immediately followed by fear, anguish, and a strong wave of nausea. Ouch, heartbreak sucks!

I lie back on the pillows trying to abate my squeamishness. Sugar, my black and white rescue cat, decides this is a good moment to jump on my belly meowing for his breakfast.

“Not now, baby.” I say, pushing him aside. “I need five minutes before I get up.”

No. No. No. I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to go into work either, not today, please, not after what happened. I’m not ready for it. I will look awful, and I’m being optimistic.

I spent the whole night crying, my eyes are going to be horrendously red and puffy, and my skin will probably be ghastly, in-between a putrid mustard and greenish coloring. There will be no mistaking my utter state of distraught. Damn! I can already picture the evil grin of triumph on her face. Of course she’s going to mask it as one of her best I-want-world-peace beauty pageant smiling faces, pretending nothing’s wrong.

Don’t you hate it when you know someone to be vicious, but you’re the only one who can see it since he or she always pretends to be the most kind and caring person in the world? Well, she’s the kind of two-faced poser that manages to make you feel like the wrongdoer even when it’s her delivering a sucker punch to your stomach. She does it with such grace and poise that you don’t even feel entitled to argue or be angry.

I have a horrible feeling she knows exactly how badly this hurts for me. Now that I think about it, many of the little nasty remarks she’s been making in the past months about the guy she was dating begin to make sense. I had a feeling that she was taking my unconcerned responses as a personal affront. Maybe she thought I knew! Well, from my reaction yesterday it must have been pretty clear that I didn’t. Wait a second, how long has she been doing it? When did she start? Did she say dating? Did she use the word boyfriend?


At the thought, my heart skips a bit and I gasp for air. Wow, this hurts…this physically hurts! I have a huge ball of pain in my chest that expands all the way down to my stomach. I can hardly breathe and I feel terribly dizzy; lying back on the pillows is not helping. My heart is beating so fast I can’t suck in air, and I feel trapped. Yeah, trapped in my horrible, disastrous life.

I need to calm down. I’m just having a panic attack! Aha! Mark the roots of a problem and then find the solution. What did Dr. Oz say? Ah yes, I simply need to take deep, profound breaths: air in, air out, in…and out…

Gradually my respiration returns to normal and I feel able to inhale and exhale properly. I have to decide what to do. Clearly, I can’t go to work in this status; the mere thought makes me sick. Well, more sick than I already am! Wait, sick…I am ill! This is my way out. I’m going to pull a sickie. Genius!

I haven’t taken one illness leave in the five years that I’ve been with my company. Surely no one is going to suspect me, and it’s not going to affect my career too badly. I mean, it’s just one day. Yes! I just need the one day to calm down, regroup, and think of a strategy for what to do next. Of course, she will know why I’m not there today. Oh, screw her! She can think whatever she likes.

Where is my cell phone? I need to put on my glasses because without them I am basically blind. Usually I do that on autopilot before even opening my eyes. You know, that way I can pretend I can actually see, but I guess today my routine went out the window. I grope the nightstand, grab the glasses, and put them on.

Ah, this is better. I scan the bedside table for any trace of my cell but it’s not there. Instead, nicely perched next to my table lamp, there is an innocent looking Sugar. I follow his not-so-innocent gaze to the floor and finally spot my mobile lying discarded on the carpet. I grab it before I change my mind and dial the office’s number, all the while shaking my head at my vindictive cat.

“Good morning, you’ve reached Crispy Koob Corporation.” Instead of hearing Michelle’s voice, the company’s receptionist, I am redirected to voicemail. “Our offices are open Monday through Friday, from 7 a.m. to—” I end the call.

This is weird. The answering machine is never on during the week; they only turn it on for weekends and holidays. Hold on a second. What day is it today? I look at my phone’s screen and there it is, the sweetest writing I have ever seen:

Saturday, May 16

Yes! Yes! This means I have not one, but two full days before I have to face the world. This is so much better. I’ll have time to recover, think a little, and craft a plan.

Duh, why am I always this dumb? What made me think it was a weekday? As my self-questioning goes on I spot the culprit standing right there on my night table—the abominable alarm clock. Why the hell did it wake me on a Saturday? I never, and I swear never, turn on my alarm clock on weekends, I mean, sleeping in is the best part of the weekend, so why…


The doorbell rings interrupting my train of thoughts. Who’s at my door this early on a Saturday morning?

About the author:

Camilla was born in 1984. She’s an engineer that has always had a vivid imagination and a more creative approach to life. After working in a corporate job for some years, she left everything to follow her husband around the world in a new adventure. Upon finding herself with loads of free time for the first time in a long while, she decided to begin pouring some of her fantasies into words…


This giveaway is for one eBook copy of "I wish for you"
The giveaway is open internationally
People found to be cheating will be disqualified

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