Looking For Writeblrs To Follow!

looking for writeblrs to follow!

i’ve been having a hard time finding more writers to follow since my accidental hiatus, so like/reblog if you'd like me to check your writeblr out! (reblogs are greatly appreciated!)

bonus points if you regularly talk about your WIPs! i want to hear about your projects so i can support them!

It was an acoustic guitar! I saw someone play a short cord to this song and thought, “I could do that.”

Did Tiktok convince anyone else to buy a musical instrument that is currently collecting dust in the corner of their room?

Asking for a friend...

from my book “stepping towards the mirror”

@maliyah.j

Magic.

Cover reveal!

So, for writers or people curious about what writing is like, I would like to present to you: Instant Classic (That No One Will Read)! Grab your preorder copy of these fantastic, hilarious short stories here.

Call for horror beta readers

Would anyone want to be a beta reader for my novella-length horror story, Narrow Road to Uncanny Valley?

The Story

It's about a punk rock band that decides to squat in an AI-designed housing complex that turns out to be a labyrinth of liminal spaces.

Incomplete content warnings: suicide and drug use.

The Process

I'm going to be posting it as serial fiction, so you'd be beta reading it in 2-3k word chunks, as I haven't written it all yet. It'll be under 50,000 words.

What I'm Looking For

I'm not asking anyone to do a proper copyedit, but if you could point out obvious typos, I'd be really grateful.

Your emotional reaction to the story. Which parts bore you? Does it succeed in frightening you? Etc.

Frankly, I've never written horror before, so if the reaction is just "this isn't quite where it needs to be yet," then I'd hugely appreciate knowing that rather than rushing to post something that needs substantial work.

What's In It For You

I'd be happy to beta read in return, either now or in the future, for fiction projects up to 100k words. I'm a former literary agent's assistant, current copyeditor, and have lots of experience writing editorial notes. I can read stories in any genre and for any age group.

If you could reblog to boost, I'd hugely appreciate it!

Sign up here ( https://forms.gle/1UAxY5wSDe4mE8Zk7 )

If you want a quick excerpt to help you decide:

The main entrance was a simple glass door, unlocked. I entered and immediately jumped like a startled rabbit. It took me a moment to register the sudden sound as music and to locate its source: the intercom in the high white ceiling above me.

It was Nina Simone. I knew the song.

I put a spell on you because you’re mine.

“Welcome home!” This time, the voice coming from the intercom didn’t make me jump.

“Hello?” I answered back. I stood still for a moment, waiting for someone to make an appearance, but it seemed like an automated greeting triggered by the door being opened.

The ivory marble floors were trimmed in gold; the ceiling dripped crystal chandeliers. It was the brilliantly gleaming lobby of a casino or a resort hotel, insistently chipper, almost as if it knew it had been accused of wrongdoing.

See? it stated aggressively. You’re practically on vacation. You’re lucky to be here.

A moment later, Miggy appeared behind me.

“Oh, yeah, this is nice,” he said. He stepped in farther than I’d gone; I realized I was standing suspended in the doorway. “We can make the album here.”

“The intercom still works,” I pointed out needlessly.

Nina Simone was crooning, You better stop doing the things you do / you know I can’t stand it / you runnin’ around

“These lyrics are kind of fucked up, considering the context,” Miggy said. “Do you think that’s the AI, threatening us?”

“No,” I said flatly. “But we should do a survey. Try to get a measure of what’s still working in the building and what’s not.”

“But let’s not split up, yeah?”

It dawned on me that, despite his perpetual, golden retriever grin and his insistence on singing everywhere he went, Miggy might be feeling spooked. That the incessant singing might in fact be his way of coping.

“Right,” I said noncommittally.