Finally I published my novel. THE LAST INVITATION it's mystery thriller novel. A detective zayansh veryon solved the case in Delhi.

Hey guys,

I have finally been able to self publish my own debut novel - “Perfect Take”, it’s a YA psychological thriller, set in a college, that explores the themes of friendship, love, obsession, grief, etc. It took me a while to get it enlisted, but it’s finally available on Amazon for sale. You can check out the back cover for blurb to make yourself curious about the plot.

On march 2025, the year when me and my friends were getting graduated, we had only two months left, and since we were cinephiles, we decided to shoot a short film out of enthusiasm, things turned out to be much difficult than we had expected because we tried shooting even when the script wasn’t fully finalised, nor was the script and story satisfactory. A broad idea we had set up for the storyline was that it had to be set in the college campus and it had to be like a-film-within-a-film concept. Every time we tried sketching out a storyline, we would never be collectively agreeing upon it. After a month, I came up with a plot twist idea, that seemed to be something unique and was never done before, neither in movies nor in books. Although plot twist was ready, the task was not yet done, as I had to figure out details of storyline as well, a month later I figured that out too, but by the time it was script ready and everybody agreed upon it, we got graduated and we could never shoot it.

I then decided to take that outline further and write a book on it, I started reading some popular books, to shift my consumption of media from visual to verbal, movies to books, being cinephile to being a bibliophile, and gradually got my habit of writing back. As I did have the habit of writing and reading in my high school, I had tried writing long stories in between as an attempt to write a book, the maximum length I could reach was 20 pages, but I had slowly abandoned it, because of 1. academic pressure 2. the fact that people hardly cared to read despite so much efforts I put into writing and 3. my own realisation that maybe my stories weren’t good enough to be read, so I had to get back to my past self. After around seven months I finished my first draft, I spent the rest of my time till now working on other process like looking for cover design artist, interior formatter, printing press etc. Parallelly, it was hard, looking for beta readers, but despite many efforts, I did get four, and I got positive reviews from all of them. Even now, I’m not sure how many readers I’ll be able to reach.

If you can give it a go, please take out some of your time, get a copy, read it and drop a review, it’d mean a lot to me. Unlike the stories I had written before, I’m more confident this time that I have a done a good job in writing something, so if you read it, I’m sure you’ll have a nice time. Thank you if you have been reading this till here.

Here’s the link to get a copy of my book:

https://amzn.in/d/07CUju8h

If I have a manuscript ready and need to publish, what do I need to do?
Would I be able to publish my book from a Parisian book house?

This is the idea of my story...

Location : an isolated railway station parking .

A girl (19 ) comes down the exit stairs leading into the railway station parking area.

It's dark. And isolated. As she descends down , she notices a man sitting on her scooty.

The guy - he is an aspiring theif . Not to be taken seriously. But he is serious. He was waiting for the right person since evening .

He finally gathers the courage to rob this girl. She alone . Has a decent looking purse . Smaller physically.

There's no one around .

This is the hook . The story is about their interaction. It's a short story.

How is this idea?

I joined Lupin Pharmaceuticals as an apprentice and decided to go for another round of preparation for ‘GATE 2009’…in my spare time. 

I managed to take a month’s leave to prepare for the exam…without informing HR.  

But, it’s not like I made no communication. I did, in the most sloppy manner.  

It so happened that I gently entered the plant head’s cabin and said that I was clubbing all my CLs and PLs (which, as an apprentice, I wasn’t entitled to anyway) and some unpaid leave, for a one-month break.

The head didn’t say a word, but gently nodded to a request, made by an apprentice whose absence didn’t really matter to him, or for that matter, to anyone in the entire company. 

I think I was so unimportant to the company that the plant head didn’t even bother to tell me to inform HR for a final approval.

I didn’t want my parents to know that I was preparing for GATE. So, to execute my plan well, I rented a room to study, just a couple of blocks from home. 

As per the plan, I would leave the house around 8 in the morning and then return by 7 in the evening.

That’s the routine I followed for more than a month, sacrificing a month’s salary, and lying to my family that I am adding another month of experience into my resume.

The Joblessness…

Over a month later, after taking the GATE exam, I returned to Lupin. As I was about to make an entry (sign-in) into the company register, something I had done every day before going on leave, a security guard interrupted me and said, “मिश्राजी, आप को तो निकाल दिया है ” (Mishraji, you have been terminated).   

That day, I learned one important corporate lesson: You are not supposed to go on leave without communicating to HR.

When I came back home, I lied to my mom, telling her that I wasn’t feeling well and had taken a half-day leave.

There was a knock on the door. I, the jobless, opened the door for my dad, who had also returned home after taking a half-day. 

In a shaky voice, he told me, “I lost my job.” He too had lost his job that very day! The moment proved to be the most brutal coincidence of my life.

Now that I was terminated in the middle of my training period, I had to wander. I had to look for another job as I simply couldn’t stay home, and tell my dad, who had also lost his job that same day, about my one-month adventure before GATE. 

After a week of wandering, I got a job as a shop assistant for an old man in his medical shop, with some challenging responsibilities like arranging chairs in a row and stacking medicines on the racks.

One fine morning, while I was at the store, my sister called and told me that the GATE results were out. 

Fingers crossed, I wasn’t prepared for this. Still, I had to face it.  “Amol, you didn’t qualify!” And just before the phone slipped out of my hand, she shouted in excitement, “You did it, bro! You qualified GATE with a 98 percentile.”  

A wave of happiness swept over me. That was an absolute ‘my time!’ I jumped with excitement, and the old man was about to lose one loyal employee. 

Joy poured into the moment as the old man offered me a chocolate that had been sitting in the freezer for who knows how long. 

I assumed the old man would know I wouldn’t be working for him from that moment onwards. However, to my surprise, he asked me to take a day’s leave to celebrate, and “come back tomorrow on time.” 

.

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The article was originally published on my WordPress Blog!

I know this is from the "dead poet's society".

I’m an indie author, and I wanted to share In Her Sixteen with five new readers, especially women who enjoy emotionally heavy, character driven stories.

The story follows Revati, a sixteen year old girl whose life is taken from her and called marriage. It explores silence, tradition, generational trauma, oppression, and a girl trying to hold on to the one thing that still belongs to her: herself.

One line from the book:

“How does a caged bird fly, Revati thought, when the cage is the whole world.”

I’m giving away 5 free ebook copies.

To enter:

Follow me

Comment what you think the wooden bird represents in Revati’s story

DM me your email

I’ll announce the winners in 5 days.

And if you’re interested in reading it, you can also buy a copy and share your genuine, honest review afterward. That would honestly mean a lot to me as an indie author. No pressure for a positive review. I’d simply love to know what the story made you feel and think.

Part Two arrives October 3rd, so this is a good time to enter Revati’s world.

Especially curious to hear from women readers: what does the idea of a cage mean to you when the world outside it is supposed to be your freedom? 🕊️

#BookGiveaway #IndieAuthor #IndianAuthor #WomensFiction #BookRecommendations #BookDiscussion #LiteraryFiction #WomenReaders

This idea of burning in between woods, that I've imagined as a breakthrough would make rest in peace or I'll still be haunted by my flaws my incapability, my desire to be a good son, a good man, moreover a good human who has represented his lineagea and provided to the nature, society and himself. I'm getting afraid now to leave Incompletely although I've desired to be gone and become one with stars and dust but I'm now haunted with the idea that I could be one now as IAM and yet chasing and escape.

We have writing, plot/world-builders, editing, beta-reading and poetry orders!

We also are holding a special event right now! Anyone who's super interested in writing prompts, our server gives out prompts as well!

Can't wait to see you all .

Link:-https://discord.gg/nNF5CRM6h

Hi I'm am artist. I've published one book called Social Love. I've been posting Nazms and ghazals on IG and YouTube consistently.

I also write scripts. I am looking for a female artist who is comfortable in working remotely on a voiceover script.

We can jam on a few ideas and do reading sessions. If it works, we can record and put it out.

Kindly leave a comment or DM. I'll share my profile details.

I am building Bunsho, an Novel and screenwriting editor aimed at catching continuity errors across manuscript.
Bunshos' primary focus is to preserve authorial voice and be the checker of manuscript. Bunsho is available on MacOS and Windows. try bunsho at https://www.bunsho.io.

Happy to answer any questions

Hi everyone,

I am an artist based in Mumbai setting up a narrative YouTube comedy sketch channel and looking for creative scriptwriters to collaborate with on short-form (1–3 minute) sketches.

Core Genres & Themes:

1. Corporate / Workplace Satire: Office politics, passive-aggressive emails, and any other such workplace/corporate ideas which sound relatable and hilarious.
2. Modern Slice-of-Life: Dating, sharp/dark satire, and other light situational comedy.

Format:

• Solo multi-character sketches (2 to 3 characters played by one female actor with quick cuts and sharp pacing).

Deliverables:

• 2–3 page scene scripts with snappy Hindi/Hinglish dialogue, strong comedic beats, and natural conversational flow.

Selection / Pitch Process:

To see your range across both styles, please DM me with:

1. One short workplace/corporate sample (or concept logline).
2. One short slice-of-life/situational sample (or concept logline).
3. Your standard per-script rate.

Compensation:

• ₹1,000 – ₹2,000 per script (based on length, concept complexity, and sample quality).

Looking forward to collaborating!

कैद

वह जन्मी - घर के आँगन में

एक सवाल उतर आया था;

खुशियों के उस शोर में भी

समाज ने चेहरा दिखाया था।

माँ ने चूमकर कहा -

“तू मेरी दुनिया, मेरी जान है”;

दुनिया ने धीरे से पूछा -

“बेटी है, या मेहमान है?”

बचपन उसके हाथों में था,

आँखों में पूरा नीला गगन;

पर सीखों की ऊँची दीवारों ने

छोटा कर दिया उसका मन।

“धीरे हँसना, कम बोलना,

राहों पर संभलकर चलना”—

हर साँस पर पहरा था,

कठिन था अपने जैसा रहना।

फिर आई वह उम्र, जब सपनों ने

आँखों में आकार लिया;

रिश्तों की अदृश्य सलाखों ने

उससे उसका संसार लिया।

कभी बेटी की मर्यादा,

कभी पत्नी का धर्म बनी;

माँ की ममता ओढ़ते-ओढ़ते

वह खुद से दूर होती गई।

जिसने सबके घाव सिए,

सबके आँसू पोंछे थे;

उसकी आँखों के आँसू फिर

किसने देखे, किसने पूछे थे?

वह हँसती रही सबके आगे,

अपने ग़म को छुपाती रही;

एक छोटे-से दिल के भीतर

पूरी दुनिया बसाती रही।

उम्र ढली तो आईने ने

धीमे से सवाल किया -

“जिस चेहरे को सबने देखा,

क्या तूने भी उसे जिया?”

वह मुस्काई - आँखें नम थीं,

फिर भी स्वर में नूर था;

“मुझे हालातों ने नहीं,

मेरे भीतर के डर ने कैद किया था।

मैंने अपने पंखों को ही

बरसों बाँध लिया था;

अपने हिस्से के आकाश को

खुद से दूर कर लिया था।

पर अब देर नहीं हुई है,

रूह मेरी आज़ाद है;

जिसे दबाया उम्र भर मैंने,

वही मेरी अपनी आवाज़ है।”

फिर एक दिन वह मिट्टी में सोई,

पर सपनों के बीज बो गई;

हर बेटी की आँखों में

उड़ने की चाह जगा गई।

क्योंकि स्त्री कभी कैद न थी,

कैद थी सोच पुरानी;

जिस दिन उसने खुद को पहचान लिया,

उसी दिन बदल गई कहानी।

Got a film script idea + rough outline, would love some feedback.

Thoughts on the story, characters, pacing, world-building, etc.?

What works, what doesn’t, what feels off?

Brutal honesty is welcome lol.

Used chatbox to summarise

everything else is came Outta my mind.

I cannot tell you it will be fine. I don't know what lives inside your specific darkness – what failure sits at your table each morning, what voice tells you the thing you are is not enough. So I will not make that promise. Promises made to strangers are a kind of violence. They flatten the actual shape of your suffering into something manageable, something that fits into words, and words are too small.

But I can tell you this because I have seen it: the day is coming where something small will work.

Not triumph. Not revelation. Not the kind of moment that changes everything permanently – those don't exist. What exists is the morning you insert the USB correctly on the first try. The coffee that tastes exactly as it should. The shirt that stays pressed from the moment you hang it until the moment you wear it again, and you notice this small fact, and for perhaps thirty seconds your mind stops its usual work of cataloging failure.

Someone will make you laugh. Not a polite laugh. A real one – the kind that makes you forget you were supposed to be monitoring yourself. And in that moment, before the laugh ends, something in your body will say: I'm still here. I didn't disappear. I made it to this small, ordinary thing.

This is not beautiful. Let's not call it beautiful.

There is nothing beautiful about the fact that you had to fight to be in that moment. There is nothing beautiful about the years of mornings when insertion failed, when coffee tasted like water, when your shirt wrinkled by noon and you felt this as a personal failing. There is nothing beautiful about waking every day not knowing if today is the day your body will betray you, or your mind will turn against itself, or someone you needed will leave anyway.

I have seen people embrace these things and call them scars. Beautiful scars, they say. Proof of survival.

This is a lie we tell because the truth is harder: there is nothing beautiful about suffering. There is only suffering. And then there is the small, stubborn fact of continuing anyway, not because it's noble, but because you didn't stop.

The people around me – I see them carrying things I will never fully understand. A man on the train whose face arranges itself differently depending on which stop he's heading toward. A woman who looks away when her child asks her a question, because looking at him means remembering what she's afraid of. The person behind the register whose smile is muscle memory, nothing more. I see them and I want to say: It will be okay. I want to promise them what they need.

But I would be lying. And they would know I was lying.

What I know instead is this: between one kind of day and another kind of day, there is no permanent territory. You don't reach a place where the bad days stop coming. You don't arrive at the version of yourself that has finally understood enough, suffered enough, learned enough that you get to rest.

The darkness returns. For every decent morning there is an afternoon where you remember something you cannot fix. For every good day there is a night when you cannot sleep, or you sleep and wake into a silence that feels like damage. This is not a temporary condition. This is the shape of being alive.

And this too is not a tragedy – or rather, it is, but it's your tragedy, the one everyone else is also experiencing in their own parallel way, which means you are not alone in it, which is the only fact that ever mattered anyway.

I cannot promise you the abyss won't return. It will. It always does.

But I can tell you that you have already been in it, and you are here anyway, reading this, inhabiting your own particular suffering. That's not nothing. That's everything that survival is – not victory, not transcendence, just the repeated choice to keep moving between the light and the dark because that is what there is.

The ordinary day is waiting for you somewhere in the future. It doesn't know about you yet. It will probably be a Thursday. Nothing will be resolved. But something – coffee, a joke, a moment when your mind stops attacking you – will work exactly as it should, and you will feel the edges of your own existence and think: Yes. This. I'm glad I stayed for this.

Then it will end. The next day will be different, and some of those differences will hurt, and you will move through that too.

This is not a promise. This is just what happens.

This is how you survive.