#authorandillustrator

MAY THE 4TH BE WITH YOU, FELLOW DREAMERS

Today, as we celebrate a certain beloved space saga, I find myself reflecting on the incredible power of storytelling.

As a creator of whimsical worlds where mechanical spiders weave bridges of light and magical pups save kingdoms, I owe so much to the stories that showed me just how far imagination could take us. Those tales of lightsabers and space battles, of hope restored and darkness overcome, were some of the first to show me that fantasy isn’t just escape—it’s a lens through which we can better understand our own reality.

The force of creativity connects all storytellers across time and space. We’re all just trying to capture a little magic, whether it’s set against the backdrop of distant stars or within enchanted forests here on Earth.

So today, I’m raising my blue milk in a toast to everyone who uses their imagination as a force for good, who creates worlds where heroes can rise, where differences are strengths, and where even the smallest creatures can change the fate of entire galaxies.

Remember: “Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter.” Our stories, our dreams, our creations—these are the things that truly connect us across the stars.

May the 4th be with you all, always.

(And yes, I’m keeping a close eye on my dogs today to ensure they don’t start trying to build lightsabers or X-wings out of household objects…)

## the sanctuary transforms 🖤✨

*something magical is stirring in the dreamthorn studio's creative space...*

We're completely reimagining our writer's office — crafting a sanctuary where stories are born from shadow and starlight. Picture gothic stone arches framing tall windows, candlelight dancing across surfaces scattered with quills and bottles of ink that shimmer like captured moonbeams. Floating shelves heavy with leather-bound grimoires and well-loved notebooks, crystals arranged to catch every flicker of light.

Vintage typewriters rest on dark wooden desks, ready to birth tales ranging from gentle children's stories to spine-chilling horror. Mystical artwork covers inspiration boards like a tapestry of dreams and nightmares. Dried herbs and flowers hang above a tea station that looks like it belongs in a witch's cottage.

Soft reading chairs create cosy editing nooks where Claire can polish manuscripts under warm lamplight. Every corner is designed to nurture the kind of stories that understand neurodivergent hearts—where whimsical meets dark, where comfort embraces the shadows.

Francis and Violet are weaving magic into every detail, creating a space that embodies our ethos: *whimsical worlds, darkly blooming* 🌙

This is where dark academia meets creative sanctuary, where the mystical becomes every day, and where stories grow like strange and beautiful flowers in moonlit gardens.

## Meet the minds behind Dreamthorn Studios 🖤✨

**Francis Grey** — writer • illustrator • co-founder

the heart of our operation, crafting stories that understand neurodivergent souls

**raven blackthorn** — illustrator

weaving visual magic with gothic elegance and dark beauty

**Claire Winters** — editor

the careful hands that polish our words until they gleam

**violet** — writer • assistant

young brilliant mind bringing fresh perspectives to every tale

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We exist in the spaces between whimsy and darkness, creating stories that span from gentle children's tales to spine-chilling horror. Every word is written with neurodivergent readers in mind because representation matters and authentic voices deserve to be heard.

*whimsical worlds, darkly blooming* 🌙

"✨ THE SPACE BETWEEN SORROW AND STARLIGHT ✨

I've been sitting with this image for days now, watching it unfold into something unexpected within my next manuscript.

There's a character taking shape—a pianist in Victorian London whose grief manifests as a cosmic entity. Each note he plays draws stardust from his tears, forming a being between worlds. Not quite ghost, not quite guardian, but something woven from the fabric of his deepest emotions.

The concept speaks to something I've always believed: that art is the most profound alchemy humans possess. We take our rawest emotions—grief, longing, joy, wonder—and transform them into something that transcends our mortal experience. Something that connects rather than isolates.

For this character, his cosmic companion begins as embodied sorrow, but as the story progresses, she becomes something else entirely. Protection. Wisdom. The parts of himself he thought lost forever, returned to him transformed by his own creative expression.

This is the magic I'm most interested in exploring—not spells or incantations, but the extraordinary alchemy that happens in ordinary human hearts. How we take what breaks us and reshape it into something that heals not only ourselves but others who encounter our art.

In the novel, this manifestation eventually becomes visible to others when he plays—but only to those who have experienced similar depths of feeling. Only to those who recognize the particular shade of blue that grief becomes when transformed into starlight.

For those who create from your deepest places, I'd love to know: what art has emerged from your most profound emotions? What forms have your feelings taken when expressed through your chosen medium?

"✨ MEET MY NEW MUSE ✨

This is what my last brain cell looks like after losing an entire manuscript to a computer glitch: a wobbly bubble creature blowing toxic skull bubbles while standing in a puddle of its own essence.

Not to be dramatic, but I've never related to anything more in my life.

Writers, this is your reminder that sometimes you just need to laugh at the absurdity of it all. One minute you're crafting elaborate fantasy worlds with complex magic systems, the next you're staring at your blank screen contemplating a new career writing children's books about sentient soap bubbles with poor life choices.

Einstein (my dog and literary critic) suggests that perhaps this bubble creature needs to appear in my next book as a manifestation of writer's block. I'm not saying he's right, but I'm not saying he's wrong either.

"A STUDY IN CONTRASTS

*Einstein: peacefully curled in a bed too small for his lanky body, dreaming of whatever literary dogs dream of, not a care in the world, the embodiment of tranquility*

*Me: staring at a blank document where 70,000 words of my next novel used to exist before a computer glitch erased it from existence, questioning my relationship with technology, wondering if this is the universe's way of telling me the draft wasn't good enough anyway, contemplating a new career as a hermit who writes exclusively on paper with quill pens*

I keep looking at Einstein's peaceful face for comfort. He doesn't know. He doesn't understand that three months of work just vanished. That characters I loved no longer exist outside my imperfect memory. That plot twists I was proud of have untwisted themselves into oblivion.

He just knows his bed is warm, if slightly too small, and that eventually I'll stop making those strange human distress noises and give him dinner.

Maybe there's wisdom in that.

To my fellow writers: let my pain be your lesson. Back up your work. Multiple places. Obsessively. Right now.

To everyone else: if you see a writer today, maybe buy them a coffee or give them a hug. We're fragile creatures, especially when technology betrays us.

"✨ FIELD NOTES FROM THE VEIL ✨

There are places where stories whisper more loudly than others. The veil between worlds thins to gossamer; if you listen with the right ears, you might hear voices from the other side.

Last night's paranormal investigation at Ravenswood Cemetery yielded the kind of research that doesn't fit neatly into notebooks or digital recordings, though we collected both. It's the feeling that matters—the weight of centuries pressing down, the sensation of being watched by eyes you cannot see, the way the air seems to hold its breath around specific graves.

The sisters in this photo (our research team's lead investigators) recorded several EVPS near the Hargrove family plot—whispers that, when played back, formed fragmented sentences about a lost child. The temperature dropped nearly eight degrees when we approached the unmarked grave in the northwest corner. And something—we're still reviewing the footage to determine what—briefly appeared behind Emma when she held out the lantern.

As an author of paranormal fiction, I find these expeditions essential. The characters in my upcoming novel, the spectral sisters of Echo House, demand authenticity. They want their story told with the reverence of someone who has stood at the threshold and acknowledged what waits beyond.

For those who might ask, "Is it frightening?" Sometimes. But there's a difference between fear and reverence, between exploitation and documentation. We approach these spaces with respect, with protection rituals performed before and after, with the understanding that we are guests in a place where the dead have precedence.

What stories would you brave the darkness to uncover?

"THE BIRTHPLACE OF STORIES... 🌿✨

I often get asked where my story ideas come from. The truth? Many begin on paths just like this one.

There's a special kind of magic in woodland paths—the way sunlight dapples through leaves, the mysterious quality of what might wait around the bend, the sense that you're walking between worlds.

When I walk down paths like this, characters start talking to me. Einstein from "Paws of Prophecy" first wagged his tail at me on a similar path. The mysterious Nathan Greyson from "The Wolf of Grimm Park" appeared between shadow and light just like this. And the magical paintings from "The Artist's Shadow" began to shimmer and move in my mind during quiet forest walks.

As a neurodivergent creator, these in-between spaces—not quite wilderness, not quite tamed—speak to something essential in how I experience the world. The patterns of light, the symphony of greens, the gentle chaos of nature that somehow makes perfect sense... these are the birthplaces of magic.

Where do you find your inspiration? What paths lead you to your most creative spaces?