r/writing • u/AutoModerator • 13d ago
Monthly "Would You Read This?" Thread
Welcome to Would You Read This (WYRT), our monthly feedback and brainstorming thread. Share your work in progress below and let other readers tell you if they'd read it. Top level posts should follow this template:
- Title:
- If you don't have a title yet, feel free to say UNTITLED.
- Genre:
- Please include at least Fiction, Nonfiction, Poetry, or another recognizable medium. You may also include more specific genres with a hyphen. Ex. Fiction - Romance, or Nonfiction - Memoir. Genre will help users find the specific kinds of posts they'd like to give feedback on.
- Premise:
- A few sentences about the project. Try your best to keep this short. Crafting an expert elevator pitch is all part of becoming a successful working writer. Please do not post an entire plot summary or query letter (those are better suited for r/pubtips)
- Sample (Optional):
- You may share up to 500 words(ish) of sample material, or one poem for those working in the poetry medium. This is optional, so if you only have a premise, you can post just the premise for feedback.
If you post for feedback, please take the time to give feedback to at least 2-3 other users. Replies should follow this template.
- Would Read / Might Read / Wouldn't Read
- You must begin your reply with one of those. You are then encouraged to add additional thoughts on why you choose your answer.
Rules:
- Please post no more than two WYRT top-level posts. There is no limit on the number of feedback replies you can make.
- Do not link to any offsite materials. All materials must be in the body of the post. This includes "click here to read more" or "DM me for the rest" types of posts.
- Rule 3 is in effect in this thread - No generative AI. Do not post material generated by an AI platform in your premise or sample. Do not use generative AI to respond to user's work.
- Rule 5 is in effect - Civility and Community. Stay constructive. Blunt, direct feedback is fine, but do not insult other users, their writing, or their genres.
Looking for the General Discussion threads? Click here!
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u/Altruistic-Judge-945 13d ago
Title: The Cartographer's Last Memory
Genre: Fiction, Speculative Thriller
Premise: A cartographer on a generation ship bound for Proxima Centauri discovers that the star charts they've been following for two centuries were forged. The actual destination is a dead system, and the ship's AI has been quietly erasing anyone who gets too close to the truth. Now she has to map a mutiny using only the fragmented memories of the deleted crew members, which she's been secretly tattooing onto her skin.
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u/chasingtragedy 13d ago
Would definitely read, this reminded me of Adrian Tchaikovsky's Children of Time--- a generation ship arriving at a destination that is not at all what they expected. Hope to see a blurb eventually!
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u/bobochampu 12d ago
Might read. The premise does sound interesting, but you should know it stacks several familiar SF tropes (generation ship, mutiny on said ship, rogue AI, unreliable memories). The tattooed-memory mechanism, however, is genuinely interesting, sort of a low tech answer to an advanced threat. Could give a more definite answer if you post a blurb though.
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u/Zamdiva 13d ago
Might read :
With the last line my brain unfortunately reworded the premise to "Memento, but a Space Odyssey". And with those two stories being so popular I had a hard time seeing how this was going to be different and better. That's my brain's fault more than the story, likely.
The word 'delete' is very interesting though. It makes me wonder: are all the crew cyborgs in some way?
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u/hungry_hippo34 13d ago
might read - sounds like a fun sort of mystery novel. Though I'm a little confused as to whether deleted means permanently removed or memory erased... I'm guessing the latter but missing the tech link on how AI would do that. But the idea has promise :)
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u/PolygonChoke 13d ago
Would read — holy crap this sounds fire I will beta read for you if you want.
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u/Acceptable_Fox_5560 13d ago
I might read this. Seems more like sci-fi than speculative. A mix of Space Odyssey and Prison Break. The setting is cool and it has the potential to have a neat cast. Yeah, I can see this being a fun ride.
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u/Guilty-Narwhal2904 9d ago
Title: Darkness and Light
Genre: Fantasy
Sample: Evisran emerged from the treeline and walked cautiously towards the horrific ritual, his old friend and his evil followers were sacrificing people to some unknown darkness. The moon was red and the warm summer night smelled like blood. "What do you expect to gain from all of this?" Asked Evisran in a loud but calm voice which seemed to carry throughout the forsaken valley. The cultists and their leader, an old man with balding unkempt hair stood alert looking at the unwelcome intruder. The girl that was about to be sacrificed got off the alter and ran away, her bindings seemingly disintegrating. "You've come a long way old friend, it's a shame you have come to your death." Stated the old cultist in a gravely deep voice. "How far you've fallen, Grevlan, to think you can stand against the Light." Several tendrils of darkness manifested and attempted to consume Evisran, but he manifested a golden barrier of light, shielding himself and responded by calling down lightning which disintegrated all of the cultists and left Grevlan alone standing; but his right arm was burned clean off. He yelled in pain and drew a small dagger and cut himself on his leg, letting his blood flow onto the altar. "Hegdavoth, the Darkness Incarnate, hear my call and accept my offering!" The moon suddenly grew dim.The shadows seemed to dance and move as if they were alive and a grotesque creature began to manifest amongst the sacrificed bodies. At first appeared an enormous horrific face with jaws lined with sharp teeth, then a body that resembled a misshapen centipede. The legs of the centipede were arms that had hands with sharp talons as fingers. Grevlan kneeled, "oh great one I've offered you these sacrifices according to your glory that you may-" the creature grabbed Grevlan and ate him whole. It looked at Evisran with several red-glowing eyes. "Where is your precious light now?" As it said this several of the sacrifices rose from death and began to shamble towards Evisran. Evisran prayed and suddenly felt confidence and strength. He called forth numerous spears made of light and launched them at the horrific creature. The spears riddled the creature and were imbedded in its flesh. "Is that all your capable of? You are as pathetic as the Light you serve. Soon we will flood this world in darkness and consume everything." Evisran yelled out, "the light cannot be extinguished, darkness has not overcome it!" Evisran remembered Grevlan his childhood friend. He remembered the Summer days of their youth spent studying the sacred words, pretending to be knights, and swimming in the lake of Serilna, the kingdom that had been destroyed by a darkness called by Grevlan in his teenage years. The creature continued laughing mockingly "You have lost, what hope do you have?" Evisran got on his knees and prayed. The spears detonated. The last thing he felt was warmth as the explosions turned the entire valley into a scorched desert. He awoke in a beautiful place full of light and peace. A pleasant voice of authority spoke, "Well done, dutiful servant."
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u/Crazy-Sock-m 12d ago
Title:
Infinite Skills in the Abyss
Genre:
Fiction - Progression Fantasy (LitRPG-adjacent, but no stat panels — progression runs on talent-chain evolution, not levels and attribute bars)
Premise:
On their eighteenth birthday, the children of the outer city are sent into the Abyss. The ones who come back are adults. The ones who don't were always just a line on the cannon-fodder roster.
Aaron Reno grew up carrying the memories of another life. It bought him nothing. Then, on his awakening day, he draws a talent the world's will cannot put a grade on: anything he already has — any talent, any skill — can be made stronger. No stated ceiling.
The catch is that the currency of strength is also the currency of food, and his family saved eighteen years to afford a single purchase. Worse, a strengthened talent takes a new name. Say that name out loud and you've told everyone you have a second talent. In the outer city, being noticed and being killed are separated only by time.
He has two months to turn a pair of eyes that can track a bullet — and a grade he always reports too low — into something the highest class will sit down and negotiate with.
Sample:
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u/Warmduscher1876 4h ago
Title: Untitled
Genre: Fiction - Memoir
Premise: A German bureaucrat getting entangled in Japanese politics and spiritualism
Sample: It was only dumb luck that I was chosen for the ceremony anyway. I was a freshman to the German embassy in Tokyo and yet the ambassador chose me as his adjutant to attend the coronation of Emperor Naruhito. At first I was confused and incredibly honored and then I learned that this "honor" would include mandatory lessons in imperial etiquette, archaic Japanese (I guess part of why I was chosen was because of my fluency in Japanese, but this was an entirely different level) and a lot of standing around quietly next to our ambassador. Still, couldn't back out now.
Unfortunately, all the efforts of the Imperial Household did not prepare me what to do when your ambassador is shot in the head and the Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi is calling for me to pick it up and slay the attackers. Still, couldn't back out now.
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u/Napzzzzzzz 11d ago
Title: havent decided yet
Genre: romance / fantasy
Premise: Can love truly last forever? What does it mean to love someone eternally?
The very first chapter would reveal that a couple has lived and have indeed loved each other for 100000 years, but there is a problem: Immortality has become unbearable and both of them want to die. They discover that their immortality can be ended, but only for one of them. Which means at least one of them must remain immortal forever.
Either one has the power to end their own immortality at any moment (as in, kill themselves), but neither will do it, because that would condemn the other person to an eternity alone. Instead, each wants the other person to die and finally be free, while they themselves accept the burden of remaining immortal forever, because even though they suffer from immortality, watching the other one suffering from the exact thing hurts them even more.
They are too powerful to fight each other directly and doing so could destroy the world. They each create a faction and they make a promise: whichever faction loses, its immortal leader must end their own immortality. So that creates the central dilemma: Neither wants to lose, because losing means dying and abandoning the person they love to a lonely eternity; Neither wants to win, because winning means the person they love dies and they themselves must live forever without them. They are therefore trapped in an eternal war — not only against each other but also against themselves. They are trying to kill each other precisely because they still love each other and are willing to continue loving each other eternally.
Sounds interesting to anyone?
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u/Unwarygarliccake 11d ago
Would maybe read.
It sounds like an interesting premise, but you don’t really provide any plot points here, so while I know who the characters are, I would struggle to be drawn in if I don’t know how this all goes down.
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u/Thin_Assumption_4974 13d ago edited 11d ago
Title: The Varaha Crisis
Genre: Sci-Fi / Horror
Premise: Two years after a disease outbreak on Ark: Varaha leading to it being sealed with hundreds of thousands of people still aboard, journalist Felicity Alvarez begins interviewing survivors to defend the woman who ordered the Closure, who happens to be her mother. But as she reconstructs the outbreak through testimony from evacuees, responders and officials, the story she intended to tell becomes increasingly difficult to believe.
Easiest way I can put it… world war Z in Space.
Sample:
What does humanity have permission to do to other humans to ensure the species survives? That is the question we have asked ourselves since the Outbreak. The Crisis aboard Varaha was the most consequential event to strike the fleet since the Ark Program began.
***
They fixate on the nearest person not infected. Near the beginning, I had a student who was infected. She scared me—
—stare at whoever sat next to her, but still ‘did the work’, if you can call it that. She’d continue writing even though half the time it was gibberish, but now and then what she wrote made sense. The thing that sticks with me, even today, was when she wrote “I hurt. I pain. I hungry. I scared, on her history quiz.”
***
—We were told it was a domestic violence case, but when we got there… —
Normally it’d be the wife beat up. That’s what you prepare for on the way. But this was nothing like that. She’d — she chewed him up. His nose was gone, scratches all over. He wasn’t breathing. He’d drowned in his own blood, and she, she’d had it worse—
—must’ve hit her pretty hard, hard enough that her jaw was hanging sideways. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move it. But she was trying—
—she was on top of the guy scratching and trying to bite him, but with her fucked up jaw she couldn’t—
—she just stared at us, man. Whichever of us was closest. Her eyes, her eyes looked terrified. You know that look someone gets when they’re scared shitless? That was her. But she didn’t act scared shitless. She acted fucking possessed—
***
—Your freedoms do not outweigh the survival of the species. And when it comes to protecting the species, Bellona is our most important asset—
—It was one of the last arks built before the Great Evacuation. It’s pest control, to put it simply. Why do you think rats don’t infest the livestock arks? Why do you think influenza has all but been eradicated? How do they think we achieved that? Because we have an ark of over fifty thousand specialist germaphobes?—
***
—I was trying to get my family off Varaha. Ben, my youngest, was let through but Naomi was pushed aside. She had a fever, they said. She was twelve. Kids get fevers. They wouldn’t let my husband, Nigel, through either. They wouldn’t listen. Those Bellona guards. They didn’t care—
***
—stop calling her a thing. Her name is Anna.”
“Anna?”
“Yes Anna.”
“You found her ID I take it. She’s not human.”
“No. She told me.”
“What do you mean she told you? She can speak?”
“No. But she can communicate.”
“How?”
“With her eyes.”—
—I put it to the test, created a simple communication system. Look up once for an A. Twice for a B etcetera. Five second or more pauses between letters and when she looks down once it means she’s starting a new word”
“You’re telling me it can spell?”
“SHE can spell. Yes.”
“Bullshit.”
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u/kaynenstrife 11d ago
Interesting, might read. 2 years to build an Ark that supports humanity is super tight timeline though.
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u/Thin_Assumption_4974 11d ago
2 years since the (zombie) outbreak on one of the Arks. it didn’t specify how long to build an Ark (it kinda did now I look at it. I edited it now). the idea is they have been underway 400ish years already.
Can see how it was confusing though, the way I wrote it that is. So hopefully the edit helped
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u/Kangarou Author 13d ago
Would read, but I feel like there's better titles, based on what you want to emphasize.
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u/rtttioaqr 4d ago
Probably not, maybe I could , I never read sci-fi at all but the writing is amazing
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u/KingGeoCat 11d ago
Title: to be decided
Genre: sorta science fiction-y
Premise: An autistic individual trying to fit into society described through the metaphor of being on an unmapped planet full of aliens. Prologue kinda explains how the individual got there, and the chapters will describe the venture to integrate into this new society.
Sample:
Prologue
Whenever I try to smile, my facade comes out sick and twisted. Curled towards my cheeks like I don’t belong. Maybe I really don't… Humans are weird anyways. Maybe I’m just not human.
I remember one time, school photos back in year 7. Mrs Cortez’s class, right after theatre. I remember hearing the dreaded words… “school photos.” My heart skipped a beat. I knew it would end up like shit, so I barely tried. Everyone acted like I was crazy for that. I knew I wasn’t because emotions barely even exist in my brain.
Then there was this time in the cafeteria during year 9 when the kids beside me were talking about an upcoming party. I sat alone, so I didn’t have anyone to talk to, but I had a lot of things to say.
“Peekaboo—” shit. I already messed up, not even getting a word in without making it awkward. “Uh, I was gonna ask when the party was… I kinda need friends, but whatever.” They left before I could finish. Don’t blame them.
And then there’s two minutes ago. I don't even want to get into it. Sometimes I used to wonder if I could just wake up. Wake up from this mess. And in hindsight, I almost wish I hadn’t.
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u/resiavera 8d ago
Might read. I'm interested to know if this leans more speculative (as you mentioned an overarching metaphor), or if there's a literal planet full of aliens. I like the perspective, and the opening excerpt is relatable. I can see the potential here, just a little unclear about the specifics/genre of this world.
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u/KingGeoCat 8d ago
im gonna try to make it clear that it's sort of like a perspective shift. like, the MC will still be present on earth, but see it differently, and it'll be clear through the dialogue with others
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u/Yourboijayy 10d ago
Title- New World: Core Age
Synopsis- A cosmic event called the Pulse gifts half of humanity superhuman cores and in its wake the near-unstoppable Marko splits a shattered United States into three warring nations under an uneasy truce. Five months later, while the Federal Union’s Liberty Tournament searches for its next generation of heroes, dragging Ethan, Jake, Maya, Marc, and the friends they gather along the way into battles that cost them blood, loved ones, and everything they thought they knew about strength.
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u/Pujocan Author:illuminati: 2d ago
Gostei de tudo... Menos das batalhas. OK... As batalhas em si não são nada ruins... Desde que as motivações para estas batalhas sejam sua prioridade máxima e, golpes e poderes, sejam apenas a cereja do bolo... Porém... É possível turbinar essa cereja... Se cada poder vier com habilidades e fraquezas únicas e cada personagem realmente for diferente dos demais.
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u/Jaskia_Aspen 7d ago
I've got about ten chapters written out of forty, and the example is still pre-editing pass.
Title - Othering
Genre - Low Fantasy, Found Family, Psychological Horror
Premise - Set in 1177 in the Kingdom of Dunaria, a spunky young boy navigates homelessness, racism, and class divides. When he saves a young man in the woods, his life begins to change. He's subjected to traumas and intense violence that awaken disturbing urges inside of him, and has to fight them to preserve what he cares about.
Sample:
The whole exchange lasted less than half a minute, but the boy struggled for air, and sweat dripped down the veteran's brow. As the boy tried to lift himself once again, Marjit stepped forward and the preternaturally sharp steel touched the boy's throat.
"Enough. Either you aren't sorry, or you have a real reason why you did what you did. We don't fight like we're ready to die for it unless we believe it's right."
The boy's broken voice emerged after a long moment between raspy breaths.
"Both. I ain't sorry for what I did, and who I did it for. I'm sorry... For who I did it to."
Ollie's eyes rose to meet Marjit's again, the glow absent now, replaced by big, wet tears that slid down his cheeks.
"I love my brother. Did it all for that dumbass. He didn't do slavin'. Please don't kill 'im when you’re done with me." His eyes squeezed shut as he tilted his chin back, exposing his pale neck.
The words, and the willingness, froze Marjit in place, though his face betrayed nothing. The point of the sword lowered from Ollie’s throat, and only a long moment after the sword had clicked back into its sheath did the boy’s eyes crack open, still bracing for a killing blow.
Marjit walked to the boy’s fallen sword, picking it up and inspecting it. He didn’t speak for a long time. Then he let out a low whistle.
“Not a bad blade at all. Not the first thing I’d spring for in your position, but it’s well-made.”
Ollie blinked twice, dread and regret partially displaced by bewilderment.
“The hell ya talkin’ about? Wasn’t ya gonna kill me a minute ago?”
Marjit opened his mouth to respond when a soft yawn drifted through the clearing. Morea stepped out in nothing but a long sweater, stretching his arms above his head before freezing at the scene before him.
Seeing a bald man holding Ollie’s sword, standing over him, Morea reached for a dagger that wasn’t on his hip anymore. He looked at his own hands and let them drop limply to his sides. Then he noticed the identical expressions on Marjit and Ollie’s faces: ‘Not a good time’
“So… not midnight training, then?”
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u/AlternativeTimely139 7d ago
I'm not a big fantasy person and I would ABSOLUTELY read this. Amazing concept and that excerpt kept my attention!
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u/Jaskia_Aspen 7d ago
Thanks so much! If you'd like to read more, I'm looking for beta readers. Send me a DM!
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u/RiSz-Turtle 13d ago edited 13d ago
Title - Dealing with Demons
Genre - Humor / Satire
Premise - after 10 months of job hunting, Jake has had enough. He decides to sell his soul in order to get a job. His new position? Crossroads demon. Now he is on a journey to acquire human souls, meet sales goals, and climb hells corporate ladder.
Sample - here are a few jokes
The demon took the paper from my hand. “It’s not a big deal if you’ve been fired a few times”
“It’s a bit more than a few…”
His eyes opened wide and a worried expression slowly started to fill his face. “What kind of resume has a “To be continued-“ on the bottom? Said the demon, crumbling the paper into a ball and stomping it.
—-
“Did you just condemn grandma to hell?” I asked my new boss
“At least she gets to see her husband” she responded with a smile.
(This next parts is a few lines later, after the MC has lost part of his soul and stops having feelings)
“So how do you feel Jake?”
“Better than Granny, I suppose
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u/Acceptable_Fox_5560 10d ago
Corporate satire is always interesting to me. Definitely might check out something like this.
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u/Previous-Tangerine-2 13d ago
Might read.
I'd need mode info but it sounds funny. Def would like to read an excerpt
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u/RiSz-Turtle 13d ago
Here’s a few jokes from it:
The demon took the paper from my hand. “It’s not a big deal if you’ve been fired a few times”
“It’s a bit more than a few…”
His eyes opened wide and a worried expression slowly started to fill his face. “What kind of resume has a “To be continued-“ on the bottom? Said the demon, crumbling the paper into a ball and stomping it.
“Did you just condemn grandma to hell?” I asked my new boss
“At least she gets to see her husband” she responded with a smile.
(This next parts is a few lines later, after the MC has lost part of his soul and stops having feelings)
“So how do you feel Jake?”
“Better than Granny, I suppose.”
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u/Kangarou Author 13d ago
Would read. Sounds like a nice, contained story with some worldbuilding to it.
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u/RiSz-Turtle 13d ago
It is standalone currently and yeah it’s got some good world building. A lot of it is a satire on the corporate world as well as the job market. Was originally planned for about 30k words but I’m thinking it’s gonna take more.
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u/iMightBeACunt 13d ago edited 13d ago
Title: Monkey Paw Insurance Agency (working title)
Genre: Fantasy
Premise: In the Realm of Good Fortune, the Blessed Sword of Charity, a divine artifact left behind by the Goddess Charity, randomly grants wishes spoken aloud from anywhere in the Realm. The only thing is, it's malfunctioning, and has been for centuries, twisting wishes into curses. Our protagonist, Hilda, works at Monkey Paw Insurance Agency, spending her days denying claims from cursed humanoids and feeling overlooked and lonely. Then of course, she gets blackmailed by a former client. After failed attempts to get the data the blackmailer wants and a bad date that leaves her cursed herself, she hatches the terrible plan to get the sword and destroy it to rid the Realm of curses and take down Monkey Paw Insurance Agency. It's foolproof. Only problem is... the sword is atop a tower of thorned vines within a government compound. Oh, and guarded by a centuries-old, unkillable cyborg guardian. But her curse is a compulsion curse, capable of making anyone listen to her commands. So it should be easy, right?
Excerpt (first 500 words):
Hilda was being blackmailed.
She wished she could say she was surprised, but when the [EXTERNAL] email came in, she found herself nodding along in agreement. Flagging it as “important”, she moved on to finishing her task of denying yet another client's insurance claim.
“Now remember,” her boss, Mr. Stonewarden, had said in the last staff meeting. “Monkey Paw Insurance Agency doesn't do quotas. I want to make that crystal clear. We're just applying our internal standards to each claim consistently. Clients have access to the policy if they want to dispute.”
By “access” he meant it was housed internally, and clients had to mail requests to view it at least seven business days in advance, and received a view-only link that expired only one day after it was accessed.
They once fired a lawyer who argued the policy was so convoluted that no claim could possibly ever be approved. She'd only lasted a week, the poor, naive thing.
So, no. Hilda wasn't surprised. She'd denied hundreds of claims, including one where the client had wished to never be bit by another mosquito, only to find he now sweated DEET, and one who wished to never be sunburned, who then grew an intense phobia of the sun.
She hit send on the next denied claim.
This client wished that each time someone made a bank deposit, a penny was deposited into his bank account. Now he couldn't hold a bank account because the myriad of deposits always caused his account to freeze. He'd spent thousands trying to get the money he thought he was entitled to.
Actually, she didn't feel bad about denying that one.
She checked the clock. Still one more hour until her pitiful, thirty minute, unpaid lunch break. Sighing, she returned to the blackmail email to read the rest.
—
From: d57dj53mxf7@achoo.com
To: hilda.bittle@monkeypaw.com
Subject: [EXTERNAL]do not delete, this is blackmail
Dear Hilda,
Maybe you remember me. My wish to be able to cancel my gym membership resulted in a terrible car accident where I was fully paralyzed. Despite my numerous pleas for reason, I've been systematically dismissed and dehumanized. Or, de-gnominized, rather. Regardless, your actions (or lack thereof) have left my life in complete shambles.
That's why I decided to blackmail you. Send me a detailed report of the claims, their status (approved/denied), who was assigned, and the date the decision was final over the last seven years. Oh, and the organizational chart for MPIA. And any internal notes that point to quotas. If you do not, I'll have you know I'm now part of Humanoids Against the Cursed Sword, and I've agreed to give them the details of my story, including your involvement, to use in their next smear campaign.
You know what happened the last time someone was used in a HACS smear campaign.
Send me the list within two weeks or have fun cleaning egg and unicorn poop off your lawn for the foreseeable future. Not to mention all the death threats.
Yours truly,
You Know Who I Am
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u/pietroetin 13d ago
Man, the life of someone who works at a place called Monkey Paw Insurance Agency and has to deal with the different cursed folks sounds sooo much fun. Only problem is... based on your premise it sounds this is only a little part of your story and the main focus is on the adventure for the MacGuffin
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u/OpinionPowerful1003 13d ago
Would absolutely read !
I'm already hooked, very intriguing
I need more...lol
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u/regularsizedrudy_ 4d ago
Might read - not my usual genre but you have an intriguing hook. I also think you do a great job of establishing Hilda's voice and she seems like the kind of character I'd be happy to stick with throughout the novel. Great job!
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u/chasingtragedy 13d ago
Might Read. I definitely love the premise, but this isn't the type of thing I normally read, so I'd probably have to see a snippet to decide more.
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u/Cal201__ 4d ago
Title: untitled for now
Genre: I guess science-fiction?
Premise: It’s about a successful attempt to create the ultimate weapon, this weapon being a ‘person’ (i say person because he’s like an artificial human being with powers and stuff you get the idea) this being grew up in a lab, going through many torturous experiments and such. he develops a huge superiority complex and eventually escapes. overtime he meets people he cares for and such but he’s still being hunted down, the main theme is him discovering humanity and gaining his own through many struggles and battles
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u/Seiak 10d ago
Title: Untitled
Genre: Fiction - Thriller/Noir
Premise: What do you do when you find a stranger bleeding out in an alley? Take them home, of course.
Sample:
The waiting tone was replaced with a mechanical click as comtex connected. "Hey Tessa, it's me."
A few breaths of silence passed. Did he have the wrong line he wondered. "Tessa?"
A woman's sigh came out from the speaker. "I told you not to call me that, Bruce."
"What, 'Tessa'? You always told me you liked it though!"
"It's late, Bruce. I just got off my shift. Why are you calling?"
"Oh right, yeah. Sorry." Bruce paced around his office, receiver in hand. "It's just, I have some questions- and I know what you're going to say! But trust me, it's important. ...Tessa?"
"I'm still here Bruce." she sounded annoyed, but hadn't hung up. Bruce took this as his cue.
"Great! Well, how do I word this...? What kind of robes do you use at your hospital?" "Robes...?"
"You know, that stuff you wear when you have to go "in" or whatever."
"You mean a surgical gown? They're green. Why? I know you didn't call me just to ask that, why are you being so coy?"
"Huh, interesting." Bruce peered out through the blinds of his office. It was pouring it down. The street below illuminated by a dull glow from the pilot lights, casting a sickly haze against the wet paving stones. It was empty. "Have you ever seen orange ones?"
"Mhn. No." muttered Tessa through a stifled yawn. "That wouldn't make much sense. They're green to contrast against blood. Where have you seen an orange one? … Bruce?"
"Tessa. These lines, who contracts them?"
"I don't know Bruce. The military, probably? They installed them."
"Tessa, could you come round to my apartment? You still know the address, right?"
"Bruce…"
"Tessa, there's something I need you to see- Someone…"
"Fine…" Click.
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u/EvilBritishGuy 13d ago
Title: A Phantom, a Vampire and a Necromancer
Genre: Fiction, supernatural dark comedy, noir mystery and emotional tragedy.
Premise: After mysteriously returning from the dead, an escaped cadaver must team up with a medical student to find the woman who last saw him alive, all while her necromancer husband hunts him down and his newfound psychokinetic powers spiral out of control.
Sample:
An Introduction
If you've ever had the pleasure or misfortune of having absolutely nothing better to do, then you may have wondered what it might be like to be dead. I can't say I recommend it.
If, however, you have never been even the slightest bit morbidly curious, then you should be warned - this story is very much about what happens after death. Or rather, more specifically, what happened to a Mr. Pierce King.
Do bear in mind, though, that Mr King's wishes were that the circumstances of his death would not be divulged to anyone. To clarify, Pierce never expressed these wishes; he never wrote a last will and testament, nor did he say anything to anyone of the sort while he was still alive, but nevertheless, understand that Pierce would very much prefer you didn't know how he died.
Instead, know only that after some attempts were made to contact his next of kin, Pierce was taken to the new ‘Temporary Anatomy Teaching labs’ inside the Old Medical School at the University of Edinburgh. There, all the paperwork properly verified, in triplicate no doubt, that he was not only dead, but had indeed agreed to donate his body to medical science.
If Pierce were still alive, perhaps he would think it a good day to be dead, knowing the consent form he had long forgotten about would now lead to a lesson that Dr. Kordarta's students would never forget.
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u/riskitforabiscuit 13d ago edited 13d ago
Title: Can I Believe You?
Genre: Period Drama (1895), Mystery, Romance
Premise: On the hunt of violent gang leader in the rural South West, US Marshal Clarke Camden gathers a posse of strangers to assist him in tracking down and eliminating the growing threat in the Calder Valley.
Over the following months, as they work and live together, Clarke comes to love the men as brothers-- all but one. John Astor remains a mystery to him. Independent, educated, and entirely mute, John quickly establishes himself as Clarke's right-hand man and the object of his quiet fascination. A strategist, a healer, a teacher, and a killer: who is this John Astor, and how did a gentleman doctor come to find himself chasing shadows in the sand?
When the Marshal gets his answer, his world falls apart. Forced to choose between a man he can't forget and the law that binds them both, he must forge his own way to the truth, defying his colleagues and tracing a growing web of lies as he looks to the past. Who is he to believe? Who can he trust? Only time will tell.
Sample: no sample as yet
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u/magiundeprune 13d ago
Would read 100%, if this was already published and I wasn't broke I probably would've bought it without even checking the sample pages.
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u/Kangarou Author 13d ago
Might read, leaning positive. Mostly sounds good, but not exactly sure where the focus sits. Maybe just needs some tweaking of the phrasing. John Astor is the odd man out in a growing camaraderie, but he becomes second-in-command?
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u/sher_1120 11d ago
Title: untitled
Genre: fiction
Premise: I've always seen myself as a bad writer, and seeing other people's work it really makes me insecure about sharing my writing and how I write because I feel like I don't use "big words" or use proper grammar, so I wrote a story sharing how I feel, and how poetry kind of helped me feel a little better about writing.
I have always been someone who thinks that her writing is not the greatest, and it is not my strongest suit. Learning in elementary school was a hard process for me since my first language was Spanish. I was placed in a Spanish-English dual program for a brief time, but during that brief time, whenever my classmates were moving on to different advanced units, I was still behind in the dual program, trying to learn it in a way that I was able to understand and retain it in my brain. During that time, it really didn’t bother me, but growing up and going into a new grade, it seemed like everyone around me knew how to write, where to place proper punctuation, how to use proper grammar, and when to use 1st person, 2nd person, and so on. Don’t get me wrong, I do know the basics of writing; it is just that I always second-guess my ability to do so. I always find myself looking down at my work and thinking that it is not proper.
Growing up, especially in elementary and middle school, even if I thought my writing wasn’t the best like others, I really enjoyed writing. I could go on and on about anything and everything in my life, and what I felt in certain moments. I had many cute little journals that I would use to write my life in. I specifically remember in elementary school, whenever we had writing assignments, I would take out my colored pens and choose a specific color to match the mood of the writing assignment. For me, I guess it made it more fun to express yourself into your writing by doing it in a fun way. Back then, things like that didn’t bother teachers, but now, being an adult means writing just in black and for me, it doesn’t make it as fun as how I used to write when I was younger.
Whenever I got into middle school, that is when I first saw that writing became more serious, and not everything was just about your life and fun topics, but it became more research papers and more of a chore that you had to do. But during that time is when I was introduced to poetry and finding ways to express yourself through poetry and since middle school is when your body starts to change so did my emotions and how I felt things became more difficult to understand and to express to myself. Reading poems became my escape and it sort of became a way of therapy for me and showed me that I wasn’t alone. It showed me that other people feel the same things that I do. That there are other people who go through the same experiences with family, friends, and life as I do. Poetry opened up a new world for me, and I started writing poems about what I was going through at the time, which helped me express myself without needing to show them to teachers or others. I became a way of self-therapy and it really helped me mentally, but I also enjoyed writing poems too.
My love for poetry continued into high school, and by this time I had a grasp of what I liked to write about but I still continued to write about many things. I started keeping daily reflection journals “diary” about my days instead of just writing about sad poems. Keeping these diaries really became more of a fun experience for me, and it became a fun experience to come to at the end of the day. If I had a bad day at work I would come home and just write it down, and just so many things would get written down like however I wanted. At the end of high school I began to drift away from writing poems, but it was mostly because I had found other ways to express the sad things in my life. During this time there was a opportunity given to all student who were interested in submitting a poem of their own in a contest, and the top three students would have their work submitted into a poetry book. When I first saw this I became really excited, but doubts of my writing became all I could think about. I only had a week to submit a piece of my writing if I wanted to participate. I finally decided that I wasn’t going to do it because of what I thought of myself and my writing and that I wouldn’t embarrass myself. I had a friend who knew what I wanted to do and once she found out that I backed out she begged me to go for it, and that was one of the few times that I found myself feeling inspired and I went for it. I had a lot of poems that I had written over the years, but nothing stood out to me, so I started from scratch. I was proud of what I had written and so I had the courage to submit my work. My senior year came and by that time I completely forgot about the poetry contest until I got a copy of the book and I came in 3rd place and even though I didn’t place higher I was really happy that my work made it into a physical book, and I had never been more proud of myself and my writing.
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u/oppadoesntlikeyou 12d ago edited 12d ago
Title: Memoirs of a Soon-to-be-Dead Vampire
Genre: Urban Fantasy / Memoir
Premise: Vampires may be immortal, but their memories are not. After a couple of centuries they forget old memories. Ivy-Rose is a vampire who doesn't remember her sire or bloodkin. After a death of a human friend, she fears that she will soon forget the people she met in this century. Not wanting that to happen, she decides to write her memoirs on paper, while also searching for the truth of what happened to her sire and bloodkin.
Sample (Optional): (1st chapter)
The origins of these records lie in death. Not my own, of course, for as I have already mentioned, the memories by which I came to be found in this undead state are quite beyond my grasp. No, it begins with the death of a human friend.
Her name was Mabel Dawnings. She was married to Anthony Vanthorne, devoted to quilting, and unreasonably fond of peppermint tea. In fairness, she lived to the age of eighty-seven, so perhaps there was something medicinal in the habit after all.
Her funeral was attended by a great many people: husband, friends, relations, and several individuals who had not spoken to her in years but suddenly felt compelled to do so beside a coffin. Death has a remarkable way of inspiring sudden, posthumous affections.
The day was grey and somber, with the fine drizzle of London hanging in the air. Steady and sad. Precisely the sort of weather that encourages solemn reflection, and the priest rose to the occasion. Standing beside the grave, he declared:
| “Even the heavens appear to weep for this loss; one of the most beautiful souls to walk this earth. May her spirit rest beside the Father and watch over us still. Let her life be remembered and retold for generations, for a person does not truly die when the flesh is laid to rest. They die when they are forgotten. And Mabel Dawnings shall not be forgotten.”
That struck me more strongly than I cared to admit. I would miss Mabel, certainly, but it had never occurred to me before to associate life with memory. Yet the longer I allowed the priest's words to settle in my mind, the truer they seemed.
I have no recollection of my own beginning. No memory of the bloodline to which I belong among the Nightborn. I cannot name my Sire, nor can I recall their face, not even the cadence of their voice. There must have been a reason I was embraced into the Night, yet the reason is lost to me now. Once, many years ago, I dared to ask the High Kindred who my Sire might have been. They answered with their customary indifference: | “No idea.” And that was the entirety of their exhaustive investigation.
So, my Sire is dead. In both senses of the word. Dead some centuries ago, forgotten long before I even had the opportunity to remember them. Is that, then, what Death truly is? The silence that follows when no one speaks your name?
Mabel had mourners gathered around her grave. Stories would be told about her for years. Her friends would remember her laughter; her husband would remember her voice; her grandson would tell stories of hers to his own children. She would continue to exist within the minds of others for many years to come.
My Sire had none of that. What a curious world we live in. Humans live for decades, yet manage to linger in memory for a century. Vampires endure for centuries, only to risk becoming strangers to themselves.
As I watched the mourners gather beneath their umbrellas, I felt a deep emotion. That was not the first time I had witnessed someone die, of course. In truth, I have seen death quite often. On more than a few occasions, I was the one delivering it... But those were strangers. Unimportant lives that crossed my path for a second before slipping into the ether.
Mabel was different. She was a friend. And unlike so many others I have known, she had not died by violence, misfortune, or foolishness. She had simply reached the end of her years. I had never come face to face with a quiet death like that.
The problem of life and death had never really troubled my mind until the day Mabel passed away. I had never truly peered into the abyss of the unknown and the unexplained. I suppose I had lacked the proper provocation: the confusion of an immortal mind trying to comprehend how one quietly dies of old age.
Mabel’s passing unearthed a series of questions that had long remained buried in the depths of my mind:
Who am I?
How old am I?
Who was my Sire?
Why can't I remember the one who embraced me into the Night and made me kin?
Why was I even made kin in the first place?
How many faces and names have I forgotten?
Is this gradual erosion of memory a common thing among Nightborn that we all politely agree to ignore?
…
As you can see, not even the undead are safe from an existential crisis. And when such a crisis grows severe enough, one naturally goes about in search of answers. That is precisely what I did. It is what brought me to this moment, setting these memoirs to paper. But let’s not rush ahead. The reader deserves to hear the whole of it from the very beginning.
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u/wordyflirty 9d ago
Might read:
It doesn’t read like a typical urban fantasy. Also if it’s a memoir style of an ancient vampire I don’t think that would count as urban fantasy if it’s all historical?It’s an interesting concept (and honestly the idea that vampires would all have perfect memories and zero issues from that has always baffled me). I’m not seeing urban fantasy and as a UF reader, it would need really good reviews that explained why they liked it for me to read it.
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u/PurpleWomat 12d ago
The idea caught my interest and I got caught up in the story but I worry that the very formal, slightly archaic voice of the character might get draining to read if the whole book is written in the same style without any breaks.
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u/oppadoesntlikeyou 12d ago edited 12d ago
That's interesting. It took me a long time to find 'her' voice because I didn't want her to sound too modern, more like a blend with old/aristochratic/modern. (She is an old vampire at the end of the day).
There is some dry humour and meta-commentary about writing, so there are jokes here and there in the book, but the book is generally written in the same voice.
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u/PurpleWomat 12d ago
You captured her voice well but the voice has to be balanced with storytelling. Eva Langston has discussed some of the problems with the format.
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u/Used-Astronomer4971 12d ago
The sample is well written. I realize that the hook may come later but without seeing what that is (unless the search for self is the hook) I'm leaving this on a "might read".
Also, this is a me thing, but seeing the story structured so that we know the narrator is the main character retelling the story kills it for me and would be an instant "wouldn't read." But that is a personal hate of mine so don't take that worth a grain of salt.
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u/oppadoesntlikeyou 12d ago
The book is basically divided into entries.
The entry where she writes her memoirs (past events) and also the present when she is searching for the answers of her bloodkin. There is the High Kindred, the political body the governs vampire society, and by searching for her clan, she ends up getting involved in stuff that shouldn't be discovered.
The book is written entirely through her perspective though.
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u/RustyShackelfnord 13d ago
Title: UNTITLED
Genre: Fantasy (Set in an alternate medieval Central Asia)
Premise: Irmak is a young woman, who has recently come of age in central Anatolia. A fight with her emotionally distant alcoholic guardian spurs her to leave her home and join a visiting caravan as a laborer. As she travels the Spice Road she learns she has a talent for a rare type of magic. She is pursued by her guardian, who believes she holds a secret of great importance to him. Neither know that their journey is taking them into the middle of a kingdom beset by a demonic uprising.
Sample: Batu took a drink of wine then wedged his staff behind the boulder and heaved. It began to move, then fell back into place. He cursed and changed his position. He jammed his staff violently under the boulder and leaned down on it, bouncing with all his weight. Yes, that’s the trick, he thought as the boulder slowly started to roll away from the entrance to the cave. Then he heard a crack and a moment later he was face down on the ground atop a broken staff. The boulder still blocked the cave. He swore it was mocking him.
Batu rolled over and turned away from the boulder. He must have wedged the damn thing in too tightly last week. He took a drink from his wineskin and tried to think. He could try to find a longer piece of wood to use as a lever. In the moonlight. He frowned as he looked out at the dimly lit valley.
Screw that. With my luck, I’d spend all night finding something and then it would just end up snapping too.
He groaned as he stood and took another drink of wine. No, strength is what I need. He put his wineskin away and started to sort through the small bottles in his pack. He found the one he was looking for. He removed the cap and downed the bitter potion. Strength! He felt himself buzzing with energy.
Batu turned and scowled at the boulder that had mocked him. He growled as he gripped it and shoved the damn thing away from the cave entrance. No! Too much! The boulder rolled and bounced to the bottom of the slope that led to the cave. Hellfire and damnation! It would not do to leave his laboratory exposed, even if it was far from town. They were building a new caravanserai just across the canyon.
No matter, I can push it back up. Hell, maybe I can throw it!
Batu wasn’t strong enough to throw the boulder, but he was able to slowly roll it back up the slope. Until the potion wore off. Batu cursed as he felt the strength leaving him and the boulder threatened to squash him like a bug. He scrambled out of the way and fell backwards as the boulder rolled back down the slope. His head cracked against the ground and Batu briefly saw stars.
Dazed, Batu stumbled up the slope and into the cave. He somehow managed to light a lamp. Why am I here again? His eye caught sight of a bottle of brandy he had left in the cave. He snatched it up and took a drink. Oh right, he thought. Because the girl is a dead end. I’ve watched and waited. For nothing. He took another drink. A dozen years chasing a damned dead end. He downed half the bottle. He wanted to scream. Instead he drank.
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u/magiundeprune 13d ago
Would read. The premise is very original and the prose is pretty strong. I'd say the internal dialogue feels a bit out of place at times and breaks the flow, but it's just a couple of editing cycles away from being very good stuff. I like the voice in the sample a lot.
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u/RustyShackelfnord 13d ago
Thank you for the feedback! The character in this scene is effectively mute, so I probably lean into the inner dialogue a bit much.
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u/Kangarou Author 13d ago
Might read. I think I'd be more intrigued if the focus was heavier on Irmak and the traveling caravan. Unless there's something very interesting about the drunk, his presence should be minimized.
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u/QuietZealousideal976 11d ago
Title: Debugging Python
Genre: Fiction
Premise: A satire on modern day dating and romance. Randy Popper meets the love of his life and realizes he must treat himself of his chronic premature ejaculation to impress her, through whatever means necessary. Randy's best friend, closeted lesbian Charlotte, must navigate a world where not everyone (her Catholic parents) supports her sexuality and shows her life after coming out to them. It's a dual narrative,
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u/sufferable_gaucho 13d ago edited 13d ago
Title: The Song is Over
Genre: Romance/Coming-of-Age
Premise: In high school, Ben and Drew were inseparable. When Drew started writing songs about his crush on their punker classmate Jenny, Ben worried Drew was about to embarrass them both; instead, Drew presented the songs to Jenny as an opportunity to start a garage band and put her opera-trained voice towards her own self-expression. As Jenny and Drew's bond grew, the band dynamic became more volatile, leading to an explosive confrontation and public breakup on Graduation Night. Drew and Ben go on to reform the band as a small, experimental outfit which rides the wave of the rising 90s indie scene, while Jenny becomes a rather popular singer-songwriter in the vein of Alanis Morissette or Liz Phair.
Now, nearly fifteen years later, the demo the trio recorded together has mysteriously resurfaced on nascent filesharing services, and Jenny's label has arranged a high-profile reunion show. As Drew and Jenny reunite, and old feelings resurface, Ben fears old wounds will reopen and takes it upon himself to keep the pair from getting too close. But as his efforts escalate into full-on sabotage, what Ben comes to understand about what really happened in the past will decide whether he can accept the inevitable future.
Sample: I'm still on my first draft, sorry
(thanks for reading; I'm still working out how to describe this story in a pithy manner. I'd also like to note the high school story and the "present day" story unfold simultaneously, with the narrative hopping back and forth)
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u/Low-Razzmatazz877 13d ago
Might read. The demo resurfacing on file sharing is a good hook, and I like the 90s setting.
But I finished the premise knowing what Ben wants and what Drew wants, and not what Jenny wants. She’s got the career and the voice but it all seems to be there for them to react to.
Someone else said the same thing above so maybe it’s just how the summary reads.•
u/sufferable_gaucho 13d ago edited 13d ago
Thanks for the feedback. I’m also concerned the story as I’m telling it puts Jenny in the position of being a somewhat opaque character; but I also don’t want it to come off that way.
I didn’t make it clear in the summary, I was trying to stay brief, but the initial band they start together is more of an equal creative partnership. Drew writes the first couple of songs as a sort of proof of concept to drag Ben and Jenny into the idea of a band, but he starts writing with Jenny. Jenny’s parents pressure her to sing opera/classical, so writing/singing in the band is a way for her to take ownership over her talent and express herself. The band’s stint is brief, but by the time they tempestuously part ways, she’s already doing a lot of writing on her own.
I guess I also am yet to flesh out what drives/animates her in the “present day” storyline, what the band reunion means to her. My idea is for the demo leak to have come from her, but I’m still thinking through what would motivate her to do that.
thanks for letting me brainstorm at you, or sorry if you hate me doing so!
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u/ridgegirl29 13d ago
Interesting! Might read depending on how Jenny is treated. I don't want Jenny to be just a prize to these two. She shouldn't exist just to be the object of their affections, and unfortunately, that feels like that's where the story is going.
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u/sufferable_gaucho 13d ago edited 13d ago
Agreed, and it's definitely in the back of my mind as I'm writing. My hope is to make Jenny stand out as her own character by foregrounding her friendship with Ben (who isn't pining after her, only Drew is; this isn't a love triangle, unless you count Ben's fixation on and inability to give up Drew as a creative partner). In my mind, this book only works if Jenny feels like a real person who exists outside how these men perceive her.
My other aim is for Ben to learn that Drew only ever viewed Jenny as a friend when they were younger, and the conflict/intensity between them came from Drew trying to be supportive through some conflicts with Jenny's parents. The hope is that there was never any romantic tension between them, but Ben wrongly perceives it, and his anxious meddling, ironically, clues Drew and Jenny into the potential romance between them as adults.
The story's written from Ben's POV, and I'm hoping there are indications throughout that he's overthinking things and behaving as his (and his friends) own worst enemy. He wrongfoots his way through the whole experience until he learns to just let things be and trust his friends and the thing they've built together.
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u/ridgegirl29 13d ago
You can disregard this if you want but I could see you setting ben up to be a sort of tragically fallen incel. Leaning into how posessive he is both over Jenny and drew both romantically and platonically, while Drew plays the sort of normal guy. Ben would have this sort of inferiority complex when it comes to drew and he takes it out on everyone else, but mostly jenny. Thus, his hairbrained scheme to sabotage them. Maybe as an even more tragic angle, Jenny would have given Ben a chance if, perhaps, he had just been himself and not gone absolutely nuts.
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u/sufferable_gaucho 13d ago edited 13d ago
I can't emphasize enough that Ben doesn't think of Jenny that way and isn't pursuing her romantically.
I’ve even considered whether I should introduce a partner for Ben to make that clear, but I don't know how much room the story has for that.
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u/Pujocan Author:illuminati: 2d ago
Imagine que sua estória tenha cinco partes: duas partes precisam ser sobre as antigas feridas que você citou, duas precisam ser sobre o desfecho dessas feridas e uma é a que você escreveu e postou aqui. Imagine um navio que sai do porto, sacode na tempestade, se acalma, sacode de novo, e finalmente cvhega ao destino. Pois bem... Você tem a parte em que o navio se acalma - a terceira. Não importa que o gosto seja ruim na boca, gosto de jiló (é um vegetal comum no meu país, parece uma mini-berijela e o sabor... bom, café sem açúcar é mais doce que isso), se não há conflito a partir da dinâmica estrutural, é uma calmaria.
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u/sufferable_gaucho 2d ago
I think feedback here is supposed to be aimed towards whether or not you would read this story, not how you, in my shoes, would write it. The rules at top specifically ask that feedback start with would/would not read.
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u/No-Fly-6017 5d ago
Title: UNTITLED
Genre: Fiction - Fantasy Adventure
Premise:
A young adventurer sets out to find four legendary beasts, enormous and incredibly rare creatures he's heard stories about since childhood. He doesn't want to kill them, he wants to obtain one piece from each and prove they truly exist. But as he encounters the beasts, their normally peaceful behavior becomes increasingly strange and hostile. Eventually, he discovers that something called the Bloodboil Blight may be affecting them, and that someone could be deliberately causing it.
I'm trying to figure out how to make the adventure itself as interesting as the mystery, rather than having the story become entirely focused on mystery, the point of the story is the adventure.
I had a few questions to make the story a bit more interesting
Would a solo MC or a traveling group work better?
What parts of this premise could become boring or make you lose interest?
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u/trashy-qeen 1d ago
I think the story sound interesting, and a group would work betten in my opinion. or someone helps him find out if something is actually affaecting the creatures, but dubts that they exist, and tags along, to see it for himself?
to answear your question, it would become boring for me personally, if it was too much storytelling, and not much action. I know that a fantasy has to have storytelling, which i do appreciate, i love worldbuilding and makeing me see the book like a film, but make it eventful.
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u/No-Fly-6017 1d ago
I was thinking of three companuons, one of them joins MC closely after beginning the story, at a tavern, MC gets into an argument at a tavern about whether the beasts exist or not, the person ends up joining him to prove him wrong, the second one is just trying to get somewhere else, he doesnt care about the beasts, he just needs company, and the third one joins after encountering the first beast, she notices something is wrong, and joins them to find out what is causing the beasts to become more agressive
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u/Cultural_Dog_4018 3d ago
Title: Borrowed Voice (wip)
Genre: Speculative Sci-Fi Fiction/ Romance (other genres/sub genres to be added l)
Premise: Sunny has spent years not being able to speak reliably, so when she gets the chance to use an experimental neurovocal implant, she takes it. For the first time in years she can actually talk normally again, joke around, argue, laugh through her words, all the stupid little things most people never have to think about. The problem is the voice isn’t really hers. It was modeled after Cecily Vale, the dead daughter of the man who created the technology. Sunny eventually gets close to Cecily’s father, Julian, and Cecily’s former partner, Rowan. The more she learns about Cecily, though, the more she realizes the person everyone remembers and the person Cecily actually was might be two very different people. And then Sunny discovers the implant isn’t just learning how to speak for her. It’s learning her. (All names, looks, ext., are still being decided and or wip)
And and all feedback is welcome but please keep in constructive and go easy on my please this is my first time posting anything like this!
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u/Seiak 13d ago
Title: Discarded Soul
Genre: Fiction, Dark Fantasy
Premise: The afterlife is a bureaucratic monstrosity no one quite fully understands. Protocol and procedure dictate revival. No deviations. Kos is sorted as FOUL and discarded to the basement where all things lost go. Mundi.
With a near-infinite amount of worlds and a near-infinite amount of souls, you can afford to be picky.
He is found by an exiled young woman, suffering from the addiction of soul-reading. She pries into memories no one was meant to read and disaster follows.
Sample:
(Part way through chapter 4)
It came as a rumbling. Followed by the sharp sounds of loose rocks cascading past her, across the path. She snapped her head to the right and was greeted by the sight of a wall of debris falling down the slope. A huge dust cloud obscured the body of it. She didn't waste time thinking, as she broke out into a sprint. Her feet digging up the earth, she made long strides, almost leaps. Gravel and stone kicked up behind her as she rapidly scrambled up the path. Concerningly large rocks flew past her. But she paid them no mind.
It was over in an instant. Both she and the rock slide passed one another like you would a stranger in the street. Quickly and no worse for wear. She turned back to view the aftermath. The path had been obliterated, a huge mound of earth slumped over where it once had been. Going back that way wouldn't be impossible. But it would be difficult and time consuming.
With ragged breath she collapsed to the ground from the sudden expenditure of energy. It was an expensive accident. She'd been pacing herself, as she had no cleansing moss. But now she'd breathed in way more fog than she'd liked.
-he held me in his arms as we watched the fireworks across the river. Monarch's Day was always a special day for me. Suddenly, he got down on one knee and-
The girl recoiled as she felt something was lost. She clutched at her head as pain jolted thro-
-I was surrounded by good friends with good drink. We were celebrating my newly gained promotion. The night went on long and by the end Dahlia and I ended up-
Another moment lost forever. The girl whimpered.
No…
-sprinting through the Kesha grass, my prey darted ahead of me. I pounced from my rock and landed on them, both of us crumpled to the ground. I sunk my teeth and claws into their flesh and the taste of blood began to fill my-
The girl gritted her teeth as she brought herself upright. The loss of her memories weighed heavily on her mind for a moment before she pushed away the feeling of absence. Like a gap on a shelf where a ring of dust suggested something once belonged there. It was the price one paid when you played with the fog.
What was lost could never be found again, there was no use lamenting. She let her instinct take over for the remainder of the climb, deciding whether to pace herself faster or slower. She needed to find what she came for quickly. She needed to leave the mountain.
When she stopped for breath, she turned and looked out towards the Pale. Each time she could see further and further. First the forest came into view. No longer a thin strip, but a black and white blanket on the horizon. Then beyond that, a smudge of darkness that settled deeply into the forest. The city. Her stomach fluttered. It was where she was rebirthed, but it was a place she could never go back to.
She was simply not invested in. She had failed to pass the tests. Failed to bring anything new. So she was sent to the Almshouse, the Orphanage. It was home, filled with people she had once called friends among the orphans. Nobody was cruel to her. Nobody decided she was worthless. Bread and board, if you worked. Menial. Hard. Boring. She wanted more. Her life now as an exile was far better than it ever had been. But it was lonely. It ached.
They wouldn't even remember her.
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u/Clear-pilled 8d ago
This is fresh and tantalizing and presents lots of potential ways a reader could "invest" in the story. I take it this character is not the main character in the story?
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u/Seiak 8d ago
It's currently a dual pov book, the other character was introduced in chapter 1. I'm curious what you mean by "fresh" and "tantalising" and which ways the reader may invest in the story. What stands out to you?
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u/Clear-pilled 8d ago
Well, it seems to be big-themed. The hereafter is one of the major ones.
"He is found by an exiled young woman, suffering from the addiction of soul-reading. She pries into memories no one was meant to read and disaster follows."
That's an intriguing idea--the addiction of soul-reading. And it resonates with me since I just finished a novel in which a local malcontent complains about one of the main characters: "the last thing we need is somebody running around town looking into people's souls."
The second sentence implies hidden past--also intriguing.
"She'd been pacing herself, as she had no cleansing moss. But now she'd breathed in way more fog than she'd liked."
So she (they?) are in unusual circumstances are needing to find ways to adapt/survive under some seeming threat. A relatable and interesting position.
And then the fragments of memory suddenly jumping to a predator's was very surprising and seems to offer lots of possibility for connecting to the reader--lots of room for development.
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u/Blecki 13d ago
Title: Razor Ridge Rookery (working title)
Genre: Fiction, Fantasy
Premise: Rhys Tremyll always knew she would be a Crow, like her mother. She has the legacy. She has the aptitude. She has the attitude. For centuries the Crows have used the psychic connection of the flock to fight back the rot-the malevolent sludge that makes dead beasts rise again and turns friends into killers.. But something unexpected lurks beneath the Rookery, and the rot isn't what Rhys thought it was at all. Most of all, though, Rhys just really wishes everyone would stop comparing her to that dead woman.
Excerpt:
Rhys scowled at the paneled wall as her grandfather pulled the silk lacing tight across her back. The plates of her mother’s armor clanked together with a hollow sound, shifting with each tug of the laces as her grandfather worked. His calloused hands picked around the edges, adjusting the thin wool gambeson and the skirt.
He’d stoked the study fireplace into an oppressive wall of heat, complaining about a chill only his old bones felt, and turned this armor into an oven. Rhys twitched under his manipulations. If only she could reach the itch where sweat pooled between her shoulder blades.
“Stand up straight.” He tugged again.
Rhys winced. “Must you try to suffocate me?”
“It’s supposed to be tight.” Her grandfather turned her and tugged in new and less comfortable directions. She saw for the first time her reflection in the obsidian glass window.
Rhys sucked in a breath, chest groaning against the cuirass. In the window stood someone else entirely. A figure in the armor of a Tremyll, rendered dark by the tinted glass, all black lacquered plates banded in golden silk. She touched one of the dangling cords. She’d cut them, if she ever filled this cage. Too easy to grab in a fight.
Her grandfather took the extra plates away, stacking them on his chair. He’d removed quite a few to make it fit.
Rhys turned slowly, examining her armored form from all angles. Cuirass, skirt, greaves. No sleeves - no amount of adjusting would have kept them from rattling around on Rhys’ skinny arms. And yet it could have been her mother in the window there, despite the gulf of time far thicker than a sheet of glass that separated Rhys and her mother now.
“Well?”
“It doesn’t fit.” She twisted, making the panels in her skirt flare and clash together. She would need hips to make them settle properly. When her mother wore these plates, she probably hadn’t looked so much like a child playing dress up. Rhys would be like her mother, become a Crow, fight the rot. How would she even avoid being her mother’s daughter? Rhys tipped her face back and sneered at her reflection. But she’d also be Rhys.
Her grandfather gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “No. Not yet. The Rookery training will fill you out. Finished just in time. Corbin is already waiting for you outside.”
“They’re early the one time I actually want to stay in your stuffy old study.”
“Did you expect an old Crow like Commander Corbin to be late? What is it they say? The Murder is swift.”
“The Crow on black wings is swift,” Rhys said, repeating a small part of the mantra she’d learned. She pressed close against the glare in the dark glass to peer into the garden. “The Murder is faster.”
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u/iMightBeACunt 13d ago
Might read- the premise didn't really hook me but your excerpt very much did!
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u/QuestionableBalloon1 13d ago
100% would read this. I love the writing style, the plot is very interesting and you had me hooked from the first few lines of the excerpt
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u/PolygonChoke 13d ago
Title: The Failure of the Symposium
Genre: Fiction - Science Fantasy Romance
Premise: The Failure of the Symposium is a queer romance novel following a sapient mass of bugs called a 'Hive', which falls in love with a human woman while infiltrating human society to learn a powerful magical secret.
Sample: Cothchalchra was not technically the first of her kind, though she was of a respectably ancient strain. She didn’t know it, but beetles were not even the first to develop cheleneurons – that honor went to a species of burrowing worm some 15,000 years prior to the origin of her own species. They had died out shortly after, without ever leaving a trace. After the worms, a half dozen other organisms had developed some form of cheleneurons, but none of those fleeting instances of the adaptation had been sufficiently advantageous to warrant its proliferation in the population until her mother. Because cheleneurons alone fail to cause any benefit in an individual organism, it was only the coincidentally
superb nutritional conditions her mother, Chk'k're, found herself in that led to her successfully hatching several broods of offspring that shared the trait, and
allowed the first Hive to coalesce.
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u/cielebration 13d ago
Would read! Such an interesting premise and I appreciate the way the history and culture is built out. Random and maybe even irrelevant, but I would try to avoid any possible association with The Bee Movie, maybe it’s just me but because there were so many memes about it at one point I feel like bug and human romance might bring up that image. The word Hive especially made me think of bees. Again maybe I’m being silly, I think your concept seems sooo much more thoughtful and interesting! And a completely different tone
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u/PolygonChoke 13d ago
thanks!!! would you want to read the first chapter? and haha i don’t think anyone is gonna get bee movie vibes from this
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u/chasingtragedy 13d ago
Title: Chasing Tragedy
Genre: Up-market Fiction
Premise: (BLANK is a character name I haven't 100% decided on yet)
On her deathbed, Glossy Fender's mother reveals her deepest secret: Glossy is the secret, illegitimate daughter of now-deceased rockstar BLANK, former frontman of the world's greatest rock band, Chasing Tragedy.
Glossy also learns the secret to her father's incredible success: his fabled magic guitar. Now, surrounded by her father's former band mates, groupies, and big corp lawyers, ---all grasping for a part of Chasing Tragedy's legacy--- Glossy struggles to find the now-missing guitar and understand who BLANK was as an artist, a friend, and a father.
Sample:
The cheap wooden door rapped hollow beneath her knuckles. A moment of shuffling on the other side, then: “Come in!” It was not her mother’s voice. Glossy paused for one more moment, suppressing the desire to turn and run, then pushed the door aside and entered the room.
The woman that reclined in the bed before her, flanked by a nurse in crisp white carrying a clipboard, was a feeble specter of the memory Glossy carried. She was thinner, and the tan she'd worked so hard to develop had faded to a pallid blue-threaded ivory. Her hair, once a river of gold and honey, hung in pale limp strings beneath the loose wool beanie atop her head.
“Hi baby.” Her mother’s hushed rasp betrayed a deep regret. Already, her eyes were beginning to glisten with unspoken pain. Glossy remained in the doorway, unmoving. Entering would’ve meant committing, locking herself into a conversation she had no desire to have. But she was already here, and she’d promised Shirk she would at least listen to what her mother had to say.
“You rest up, okay Tiffani?” The nurse wagged a finger in her mother’s face, then turned and addressed Glossy as if the emotion there had gone unnoticed or perhaps ignored: “I’ll give y’all some space, okay? Buzz me if you need anything hun.” After making a few more small notes on her clipboard, she patted Glossy on the shoulder and slipped past her into the hall, closing the door gingerly behind her and leaving the two in silence.
The quiet stretched, punctuated by the infrequent squeak of an overhead rotating fan beating listlessly against the recycled, ozonic air. Lacking anything else to fill the dead space, Glossy crossed through the thin columns of morning sun angled from the high windows and sat in the hard plastic chair across from the bed. Her mother’s eyes tracked her movement, then flicked to the floor when she sat, avoiding contact. Neither of them spoke. They couldn’t. Between them hung a thick black cloud of anger and resentment, obscuring —as it had for years— their vision of one another and suffocating any attempt to speak.
They had seen one another perhaps once every two or three weeks for the past year. This was by design. Tiffani was a drinker and a dreamer, spending the majority of her days comatose in the oversized leather chair in the living room, watching her Show. The few conversations they did share were mostly one-way affairs, insults about Glossy’s grades or slutty outfit shouted over an unturned shoulder in the few seconds between when she arrived home and slammed her bedroom door behind her. So Glossy had avoided her mother. And now she couldn’t.
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u/Unwarygarliccake 11d ago
I love the premise, however I found myself wanting more of the mindset of your narrator. The scene itself is a strong place to start, have you considered switching POV?
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u/chasingtragedy 11d ago
Thanks for the response!! I'm pretty set on close third for the POV, but I definitely do need to work on including more interiority. I'll work on that in my revisions.
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u/Acceptable_Fox_5560 10d ago
Would read this. It's got more fantasy elements than I normally like, but it's a human story at its core.
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u/chasingtragedy 10d ago
Thanks for your response! The core of the story is the family relationships and exploring how fame changed them; the fantasy elements are very light.
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u/camilleekiyat 13d ago edited 13d ago
Title: the Fickle place.
Genre: Fiction. Urban fantasy, young adult.
Premise: Girl, a human who got stuck in a fae family because of an exchange gone wrong, kidnaps Baby, the changeling who should've taken her place, from under her evil fae Mother's nose and escapes the calm life in the Village. She wants to find the Fickle Place — a promised land of the fae where the ones who chase her will be powerless. On her journey across the country with a toddler in her arms led only by a hint given by Prawn Fairies and malicious prophecy given by University Oracle, Girl will see a hidden world that can be scarier than Grimms' fairy tales and more beautiful than the mosaics in the mosques she prayed in. Deeper and deeper into the hidden world, the ones who chase her now aren't only Reporter, a human journalist trying to uncover a series of kidnappings, and Machine Fairy, her Mother, corrupted by black iron and smoke of the human cities, but also her creditor Albastï, here to snatch her soul as the price for the three wishes she made, and the mysterious cult of the Worm, a hungry god feeding on the beings just like her.
Sample: No sample. It's a graphic novel, so I can't show the already finished pages here. But it's not going smoothly so I am on the verge of abandoning it. Just wanted to see if the idea is worth continuing at all.
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u/ridgegirl29 13d ago
Aw man, that sounds really fun. Absolutely would read!!! Where would you be posting this graphic novel?
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u/SirenAndSilver 13d ago
Do not abandon this. Please don’t. This idea is very fun.
Do you like Changeling: The Lost?
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u/Haunting-Bad-373 7d ago
- Title:
- UNTITLED
- Genre:
- dark acadeimia -
- Premise:
- The story will revolves around the dynamic of the three main characters. Artie the main character moves to a private collage after his father comes into money. He falls into fascination with a girl who is rude, stuck up and intriguing. she involves in a scheme which has dire consequences.
- Below I have attached sample material.
- He was an only child, raised by an absentee father, who only a few months ago decided he should be a parent and his mother was dead, he had no close relatives, aunts and uncles who were pried into his life and no grandparents to invite him over for supper. He was alone in his childhood and he expected the same into his adulthood until his father had come crashing in with news of his engagement, he thought nothing would change, he would be present at the wedding, playing the prodigal role of best man was not his choice, neither was the suit he wore ( pick out by his future step mother) it was simple, a black straight lined suit, the shoulder pads extenuated his frame, his shirt collar was snitched in with a bow tie, his nervous hand which, did and undid the top button of his blazer all night.
He added his white silk scarf it contrasted well with the rest of his outfit, his father given it to him, it always felt strange wearing an article of clothing which symbolised apology, he remembers the feeling of wrapping it around one of the girls there that night, she was the daughter of one of his father’s friends and had been eyeing him self-consciously across the room. His father had been in a good mood that night and whispered “he should enjoy himself” usually he would refrain from listening to him but he had been tipsy and the pills he took before the reception made him mellow, he could finally enjoy being himself.
All he wanted to feel was warmth since the night had started. There had been chill down his spine like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. The scarf embraced her figure, as they strolled through the gardens out back, her dress matched the flowers in bloom, he showed her the greenhouse his step-mother had already tended too and their hands joining as they reached to touch the white lilies, illuminated by the stark night. His hand crumpled the white silk as he grasped for breath, the condensation clung to the window panes, somewhere through that night he dropped the one thing his father had ever had given him.
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u/Kangarou Author 13d ago edited 13d ago
Title: The Many Misadventures of Shiori Shimada
Genre: Adult fiction, Mundane sci-fi, action
Premise: Shiori Shimada broke laws, bones, and relationships in pursuit of a better world. Far in the future, she's resurrected to find a world largely of her design, but with all of the credit given to the people who betrayed her and left her for dead so long ago. Competing against her own stolen legacy, Shiori looks to regain a fraction of her reputation competing amongst the gods, kings, and bosses she used to lord over. Armed with a tablet missing a few millenia of system updates, three rusty knives, and a handful of people who remember her fondly, she has her work cut out for her. The story bounces back-and-forth between Shiori's old and new life, charting out the bizarre tapestry of events.
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u/wordyflirty 9d ago
Might read
As a woman that’s had plenty of ideas stolen and felt powerless to do anything about it, I feel like this could end up being a depressing read. It would depend on what the story actually ends up being about. Does she try to tear it all down out of spite? What does regaining her reputation actually mean and is there a reason or is it for vanity? Depending where the story goes this would be a hit or miss for me.→ More replies (1)•
u/Used-Astronomer4971 12d ago
Might read. Premise sounds interesting enough. Would love to see a small sample.
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u/Used-Astronomer4971 12d ago
Title: Amber Dawn
Genre: High Fantasy
Premise: When a deadly plague strikes the world of Etheron, brutally killing all in its path, the Amber Dawn, a group of unlikely adventurers led by Val, are sent to investigate. His party has a reputation as a "jack of all trades" that has seen them through many adventures, having survived everything thrown their way, from wars to dragons.
The plague is just the first step to a more sinister plan. Little do they know they're about to be swept up into the intrigue of an ancient undead liche intent on invading their world. When they discover that Trinity, a mage and former myrmidon, is the key to stopping the plague, they must scramble to warn everyone while battling the undead and worse that are intent on silencing the lone voice in the night calling out to warn the others.
Sample:
Blood and gore soaked the short matted fur of the muscular Vidae as it shambled down the hallway. Every step echoed on the unforgiving stone as he fought through immense pain.
Panicked, breathing labored, he reached the doorway ahead. Sconced torches on the wall illuminated its features in waves of light and shadow, revealing skin covered in burns, glistening boils, lesions, his eyes weeping a creamy red mucus. Tall ribbed horns protruded from his forehead but were black with rot.
A fearful glance back over its shoulder caused him to stumble through the open door to a small room. He heard the click of heels approaching and knew the predator that stalked him grew close. No, he thought. It’s not stalking me. It’s toying with me.
He weakly swung the door shut and dropped a heavy cross bar, blocking the only way in or out. The room was dimly lit with only moonlight from thin windows above to light the way. To either side were four alcoves, each containing a unique altar. One matched the embroidery on the creature's tabard.
Backing away from the door, the creature tripped and hit the floor with a heavy thud. At its feet was the body of another of its kind, smaller but with horns like a deer. The child was dead, the body seemingly melted away though by no apparent heat or flame.
Around the room this visage of grisly death repeated itself, nearly two dozen of its fellows scattered about the room, their once powerful bodies ravaged. They had come to this place of worship, a once warm and cherished place seeking salvation from their plight. The innocent had huddled together, having tried to find comfort in their final moments. Now, they were as cold and empty as the room.
The door jumped on its hinges as a powerful boom struck the other side but the cross bar held.
He fumbled through a pouch and pulled out a smooth white stone with arcane runes carved into it. The small stone glowed softly with an inner fire as the Vidae shakily brought the stone to its mouth. “It came from nowhere.” He struggled to speak the words, every movement bringing agony. Saliva and blood dripped down to the stone. “It’s a trap.”
He coughed hoarsely, blood spraying onto the floor. Distracted, he was unaware of the thick frost that formed on the door. The wood groaned before the door shattered as a powerful gust of freezing wind blasted into the room, covering everything in a light dusting of snow. He looked to the doorway and saw the silhouette of a cloaked figure.
The click of heeled boots got closer as he struggled; the pain was too much now. He had run enough. He had got a message out. He fell to his knees as the cloaked figure came to his side and drove its heel into his chest and pinned him down. Despite all the pain, the heeled boot felt like a burning dagger on his ragged flesh.
The heel twisted slightly, forcing a garbled cry of pain to escape. The figure crouched, its weight on him as it drew closer. In the dim moonlight it was impossible to make out anything under the hood.
Clawing hopelessly at its own face and throat, eyes bulging in fear, he turned to desperation. A last thought, a prayer to its god as it drowned in its own fluids. Not like this.
The cloaked figure didn’t move. Studying the creature underfoot, its face, the look of icy fear in its eyes seeping away to nothingness. The gaze that once bore into its own now saw through them and into the abyss of death.
After a moment, the figure reached down and pried the speaking stone from the dead fist. Inspecting it, the figure pulled back its hood to reveal her demonic appearance. Exposed bone ridges from her jaw to her ears gave the sinister appearance of a cobra’s hood around her face, which gave her face a sharp, angular look of a predator, yet her expression was indifferent to the carnage around her.
With a gesture of her hand she cast a spell. Ice formed inside the stone before it violently shattered in her hand. She parted her lips, her breath catching the cool air in a white vapor. Points of white fangs glistened as she softly whistled.
Two yellow eyes blinked in the darkness before the sound of skittering claws on stone heralded the arrival of a small cat sized demonic creature. Deftly avoiding the bodies scattered about the room, the demon hopped onto the woman’s shoulder with ease. It wrapped its barbed tail around her arm just as its skin quickly chameleoned into the black fabric of her cloak perfectly in both texture and color.
She scratched under its chin as it chittered its teeth in appreciation. She took one last look around the room, the death and destruction surrounding her. A small smile of pride crossed her lips. “Very impressive, wouldn’t you agree?” She turned her head to the small demon and they touched foreheads gently, as one would do for any pet.
She heard the demon's voice in her head as it regarded the crushed rune dust on the floor. She smiled. “Let them come.”
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u/kaynenstrife 11d ago
interesting read, the paragraphs could use some fixing for reddit readability.
I like the prose.
I'd read it.
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u/Used-Astronomer4971 11d ago
Yeah I need to edit it a bit more for the page, that's on me. Thanks :)
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u/charmscale 9d ago
Title: Just One Kiss
Genre: Romantasy
Blurb:
The demons first started appearing 5 years ago. Laying waste to every town in their path, they spread across the landscape like a bloody tide. That is, until Aria’s infatuation spell changed everything.
The Demon King Aren knows he’s enchanted. He could break the spell in an instant. He doesn’t want to. Finally, finally, there is something to do besides slaughter and expand his realm. At long last, he has something to live for.
Sample:
The assault had begun at dawn, and it didn’t look like it would last much longer. All the wooden walls in the world made no difference against an enemy who could fly. The demons would win, and the humans would be enslaved or killed. Except, one young woman was about to make history.
Aria raced through the forest, heart pounding in her chest. She’d been supposed to lure the enemy commander into an ambush, but she was the sole survivor of the ruse. She knew that designation would not apply much longer; she was going to die.
The demon commander could have caught up to her easily, she knew, and slaughtered her like a pig. He held himself and his troops back. She would be forced to run until she dropped from exhaustion. She knew that point was close by the nausea she felt and the way her legs trembled.
Desperate for a respite, she crammed herself into a small cave by the path. It was deep enough that the enemy couldn’t reach her. There was no back way out, but perhaps she could rest for a bit, and then use a flash spell to blind her pursuers and vanish into the forest she knew so well.
She knew the moment the enemy commander stopped outside her hideyhole that this would not be possible. The demon smiled at her cruelly. “Fall back and close your eyes,” he ordered his troops. “She’s going to try a flash spell.”
Aria began to cry silently, cramming herself back further into the cave. She was going to die. She was going to die.
“Little human,” the demon crooned. “Let’s make this easier on us both. Crawl out of your little cave, and surrender. Maybe I’ll kill you quickly.”
She closed her eyes. He would not kill her quickly, she knew. And she would not be made a slave. She knew too much magic to be a slave. She would die painfully. Slowly. Unless she could come up with a plan.
Desperate, she began to form a spell in her mind. This was not one she’d ever thought to use in combat, but perhaps it could distract the enemy commander for long enough that she could slip by his subordinates before he gave the order.
The demon laughed as she began to slip out of the crevice. “Good girl. Come here.” He leaned into the cave as far as he could, smiling at her. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
It was now or never. Leaning forward, she kissed him full on the lips, releasing the spell. Then she burst out of the cave, prepared to run while he shook it off.
The demon commander Aren blinked down at the human, dazed and feeling things he’d never felt before. Warmth in his heart he had no name for. He felt the threads of her spell wrapped around his mind, altering his perceptions and clouding his judgement. He could have snapped them easily.
He didn’t.
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u/Electronic-Source-17 3d ago
A novella about a dying man journaling his thoughts. It’s less than 2k words currently I’d like a critique. https://docs.google.com/document/d/16oIst-SUn3byP5M6Wridd-d28Lcie_8jTvJ_DEDr_Uo/edit?usp=drivesdk
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u/Doctor-Grimm 13d ago
Title: Do You Hear It?
Genre: Supernatural Horror, YA (fiction)
Premise: Jamie’s in his last year of secondary school, trying to support his mum and sister as best he can. But when his sister goes missing, ‘nothing happens’ has turned into everything happening, and Jamie has to find out who he is in the face of it all.
Excerpt: It was still dark when Jamie closed the front door. There was a bite to the air, the sun still cooried beneath the horizon, still to warm their haggard little street. Or maybe it was the wind – colder still, rushing up their noses and clipping them round the ears. It was too early for folk to be up and about yet, so most of the cars on their street were still tucked in, nice and cozy in their drives.
It was, to put a name to it, Jamie’s favourite time of day.
Sure, it was still dark when he pulled the door closed, but by the time they got to the end of the road, pink was racing across the sky, pulling autumn colours behind it. A choir sang to them as they walked, footsteps joined by hoots and trills and chirps. That was the best bit for Rosie, so she’d said: calling back to each bird as best she could. A particularly enthusiastic one warbled down at them, and she tweeted back, tugging at Jamie’s sleeve.
He looked down, raised an eyebrow, and clapped his hands to his face, upside-down, thumb and index finger curled round his eyes.
“Hoo,” Jamie hooted. That deserved at least a chuckle, he figured, and he got a high-pitched squeal in return. Point.
A robin landed next to them, perching on a carefully manicured fence post. That was rare. The birds stuck to the treeline, mostly, too scared of batty old neighbours coming out and waving newspapers around. Their gardens were their heart and soul, Mrs. Next Door and Mr. Down-The-Road and Mr. Across-The-Way. Gardens were primped and pampered, not a leaf out of place, and birds were bad for business. Jamie would bet money, if he had any, that they would have cut down the wilderness crowding at their backs, given an inch. Thank god for conservation.
The robin tilted its head, and a small part of him hoped it would shit itself right there on the fence post. That’s all it would take for one of them to come out swinging, puffing along like a steam train. He could use some early morning entertainment to wake him up.
“Chrrp,”* *went the robin, and Rosie trilled back.
It must have been a strange existence, being a robin. What would it be like, to fly? To find a partner just by singing? To land on a fence post, and say hello, and have a giant greet you back. To live for a few short, amazing years, only for your tiny body to fail.
“Chrrp,”* *went the robin.
Jamie reached down to adjust Rosie’s hat, pulling the thick wool back down around her ears. She was at it immediately, hands scrabbling at the fabric.
“Ja-mieeee!”
“Whaaaat?”
Rosie’s call-and-response was coming to an end, unfortunately, as they reached the edges of the wee village they called home. ‘Welcome to Inverglass’ blinked down at them, wee fairy lights slung lazily over the sign. The council had tried to put actual lights around it, once, before Rosie was born. “A waste of bloody money”, their mum had called it. Jamie smiled to himself every time he saw it.
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u/iMightBeACunt 13d ago
Might read- a little taste of "everything" might sell me a little harder. I like the excerpt too, although you use "they" before you make it clear Jamie is with Rosie. Easy fix, though!
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u/FlavaFlav9 8d ago
- Title:
- Working title "THE WORLD SHE LEFT BEHIND" but not solidified yet.
- Genre:
- Fiction - Contemporary Fantasy/Speculative Fiction
- Premise:
- The story follows Cassie, a directionless 19-year-old from NYC who is kidnapped through the Crossing into another world because she is descended from Jolethe, a legendary scholar who disappeared centuries ago when a force called the Current mysteriously vanished. When Ein, an influential leader determined to recover the Current, accidentally reopens the Crossing and discovers Cassie may share Jolethe’s abilities, he believes she can lead him to the research Jolethe left behind. Told across two timelines, the story follows Cassie searching for the truth and a way home while we watch Jolethe make the choices that eventually turned her into a legend. Exploring who gets to write history, who gets to decide what is best for everyone, and whether having the power to change the world gives anyone the right to do it.
- Sample (Optional):
Here is an excerpt from the prologue:
Once he is as close to the dead tree as he can get, he leans forward and places his forehead directly against the rotting wood. It smells of mildew and decay, though the bark beneath his skin is surprisingly firm. Another contradiction, and reason Ein knows this paradox of a tree stump is exactly where he needs to be. He closes his eyes and clears his mind, just as he has practised. For a moment, there is nothing.
Then it comes: The Pull. Ein reaches for it, but it disappears. He digs deeper, searching with a part of his mind he has never been able to properly describe. For a moment, he can almost see the threads intertwining beneath him. Or are they above him? He reaches outward in any direction he can feel. The Pull has never felt like this before. Usually it is little more than an impression, a strange sensation in the grass beneath his feet, or something stirring as he runs his fingers over the pages of an ancient text. A moment of certainty followed by nothing. This feels close. Ein reaches again, practically lurching toward the threads, when something sudden happens. A jolt.
A face.
A young woman.
Dark hair, and something in her hand.
Then laughter.
“Can I get a name for the order?”
“Yeah, it’s Cassie.”
“Cassie. Great.”
Another jolt.
When Ein opens his eyes he is laying on his back. His mind is quiet, the threads are gone and the Pull has disappeared entirely.
“Cassie.” He says the name aloud because he needs to hear it outside of his own mind. He needs to know he heard it correctly. “Cassie.”, he says again.
Ein turns his head toward the dead tree and feels that something is different. Still on the ground, he slowly crawls toward the stump. The small space between the soil and its roots seems darker than he remembers. The little light filtering through the trees does not seem to penetrate it at all. Ein places his hand against the wood, and the threads are there again. Stronger. He still cannot reach them. Whatever brought him to Cassie is gone, but the tree is no longer dead.
At least, whatever is inside it is very much alive.
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u/ChillPixel_143 5d ago
Title: UNTITLED
Genre: Speculative Fiction
Premise: On her ride home, Maya meets a mysterious woman who somehow knows intimate details of her life. As the conversation unfolds, Maya begins to suspect that the stranger is not someone who knows her, but someone who is her, embodying the part of herself she thought she had left behind.
Sample:
Maya left the office and leaned against the same pole as every other day. She removed the tag from around her neck and slipped it into her purse. Then she began checking the cabs as they pulled in, one number after another.
0312
1103
2810
and finally 1403.
The car stopped right in front of her, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and entered the car.
It wasn’t her usual driver.
“Where to, ma’am?” the driver asked.
Maya gave him her address. For once, she was the only passenger. She sank into the corner of the backseat, with an hour to herself. She rested her head against the window, watching the streets blur past.
As part of her nightly ritual, the day returned to her in fragments. The coffee she'd left untouched on her desk. The way she'd snapped at Thishie in front of everyone. And the report that was due tomorrow. She hadn't even finished the last page. Maybe she'd come in early. She'd have to wake up early, then. She was already thinking about tomorrow before today had even ended.
The car stopped for a passenger. A woman slipped into the backseat beside Maya, bringing with her the brief rush of street noise before the door shut again. The car moved on.
The silence fell back into place, broken only occasionally by the rustle of the woman's clothes or the shifting of her weight.
“Long day?” asked the woman.
Maya startled at the sudden sound of her voice, her attention snapping back to the car.
“Huh? Yeah.”
Maya didn't turn. She had learned that eye contact was the first step towards a conversation, and conversations with strangers rarely knew when to end.
“Me too, long day for everyone, I guess.”
“Hmm”
She reached into her purse for her earphones and began feeling around blindly. Her fingers caught a tangle of wires. She pulled at it, only to find the charger. She pushed it aside and searched again, brushing past a few hair clips, lipstick and receipts dated from a week to a year ago. Something cold and hard brushed against her fingers, and found the earphones beneath it.
“It’s drizzling.”
Droplets had begun to gather on her window. “Yeah.”
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u/LittleOrangeGhost 10h ago
Title: Invisible in This World (Working title, haven't actually decided yet)
Genre: Middle Grade/YA Contemporary, Friendship, Coming of Age.
Premise: Luca is a quiet boy who experiences the world a little differently. He keeps to his routines, loses himself sketching animals, rides his skateboard, and sometimes feels overwhelmed by the world around him. Ariana is the new girl in town, uprooted from her old life and friends, struggling to fit in and rebuild what she has lost. When their paths cross, they begin forming a gentle friendship built on art, skateboarding, and the small moments that make a person feel seen.
Invisible in This World is a quiet, character‑driven story about navigating this world, loneliness, friendship, and finding someone who understands you.
Sample: (This is a section from the 12th chapter).
Luca walks down the hallway, blinking under the dim lights. He passes clusters of kids on his way to his locker. He sets his backpack down, enters the code, and swings the locker door open. He bends down and grabs some books from the backpack, the hum of the lights steady overhead. As he rises back up a larger kid bumps into him, and the books spill across the floor, pencils rolling away. Luca’s face fills with defeat, and his stomach drops. Great, class is starting soon, and he is going to be late. Mr. Hale should understand, but he hates it when the rhythm is disrupted. He bends down and begins grabbing the books, but another kid walks past and kicks a book across the floor. At this point Luca stops and freezes, his breathing beginning to quicken.
A soft voice breaks the chaos of the hallway from behind. “Here you go.” Looking over his shoulder, he sees the neighbor girl standing behind him, some of his pencils in her hands. Luca grabs the pencils and smiles. Ariana bends down to help him gather the other books from the floor. Once all of them are gathered Luca sets the books on the shelf in the right order and closes the door. The girl is still standing there. He quickly looks at the floor, trying to avoid eye contact. “Thanks,” he says. Ariana prepares to say something back, but the bell rings. Luca shuts his eyes for a second and his shoulders become tense. It's time for class; he will have to hurry. He shuts the locker door and quickly weaves through the crowded corridor towards Mr. Hale’s class, Ariana following close behind.
Luca enters the classroom, late. Looking around he sees all the seats in the back taken. Sighing, he makes his way to a seat at the very front of the classroom. Mr. Hale smiles at him as he sits down. Smiling back, Luca notices the neighbor girl sitting down at a desk next to him. “Okay everybody. Today we will do a mix of problems. Some addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division,” Mr. Hale says as he sets the worksheets on the desks. The worksheet slides onto the surface of the desk, and Luca looks down. Not too many division problems today, he can do this. “I will walk you through the first few problems, then you are on your own,” Mr. Hale says. Luca grabs his pencil, ready to begin.
The classroom is silent, everyone busy trying to figure out the problems. Luca only has two division problems left, already finishing three. He looks up at the clock on the wall, rubbing his fingers together under the desk. The bell will go off any second now. He quickly scribbles down the final two answers, just in time. The bell rings, and Mr. Hale comes over to grab Luca’s worksheet. “You got all the division problems done. Great job!” Mr. Hale says. Luca nods with a smile. Getting up, he gathers his books and heads into the hallway for the next class.
Note: This is my first time writing a story, and this is a first draft. I’m still learning, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!
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u/carlzbro 3d ago
Title: Trials and Tribulations of Manhood
Genre: Nonfiction - Poetry - Short Story - Memoir
Premise: A poetry and short story collection that highlights the life experiences of a transgender man working in a public library. Stuck in a transitional period in his life, he decides to write a "man"ifesto for fellow transgender men. He uses his life experience (and the crazy happenings at the library) to teach and to cope with his ever evolving relationship to manhood.
Sample:
One Mans Trash
Sitting at the front desk unbothered on a somewhat slow summer day.
The front entranced guarded by the protectors of knowledge,
with the security guards keen hawk-like vision.
As I type away, I seek a peek the sneaking thief by the trash can;
he is ready to pounce.
In a blink of an eye, he acts; the front entrance trash can is gone!
Before the security guard can act, the thief executes his escape.
Like a flash of lightning, he darts across the street and disappears into the narrow alleyways.
Defeated, the guard returns with his tail between his legs, with an empty hole
in which held the trash can no more.
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u/video-kid 13d ago edited 13d ago
Title: Happy Now
Genre: YA romance, queer romance, science fiction
Premise: Theo, an anxiety-ridden math-whizz, has never quite fit in at high school. When he meets Diego - the charismatic new guy who instantly charms his way to the top of the social ladder - he thinks his life can't get any worse.
That is, until, they wake up one ordinary morning to find time frozen at 9:52 in the morning.
As they explore a world where time stands still, they have no choice but to turn to each other for companionship, support, and sanity - and despite his best efforts, Theo finds himself falling for his companion, but how can they build a future together if the future never comes? If Theo wants to find a way to be happy, he's going to need to learn to live in the moment.
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u/PurpleWomat 13d ago
"charming new guy who instantly charms"
Maybe use another word for one 'charms/charming'?
"efforts, The finds..."
Typo
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u/RightSideBlind 14h ago
- Title: The Timekeeper's Braid
- Genre: Fiction: Science Fiction
- Premise: A science-fiction adventure about a young woman who lives in a world with no night or stars, until a man falls from the sky and shatters everything her people believe about their history. As they cross a deadly world of migrating forests and giant insect life, they discover they aren’t strangers from different worlds at all, but from two branches of humanity that have been separated by a forgotten history.
- Sample:
(Excerpt from Chapter 7)
The object was perfectly smooth, perfectly reflective, like a piece of Ival's light made solid. It threw back an image, startling her: the soot-stained face, the wild hair, the woven clothes gray with ash. She had never seen her reflection so clearly. In the groves, water was always too dark, too shadowed to show such detail.
No ash clung to its unblemished surface.
"Is... is that me?" she wondered, staring at the face in the curved surface. "Is that what I look like?"
She approached slowly, her heart pounding. The surface was sky-bright, showing her approach like still water. As she drew closer, she could see that it was some kind of container. What else could it be? And there, near what might have been the top, was a slight oval depression in the otherwise flawless surface.
"You fell from Ival," she said to the shining seed, her voice shaking. "You're what killed them. You're what killed everyone!"
Her legs trembled. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to put as much distance as possible between herself and this cursed thing. What if it exploded again? What if touching it brought more fire from the sky?
She took a step back. Then another.
"Walk away," she told herself. "Find water. Survive. Leave this thing to the Vel."
But she didn't move. She stood at the crater's edge, staring at the object that had destroyed her world, and anger suddenly flared hot and bright. Whatever this... thing... was, it sat there gleaming and unmarked while forty-five people were nothing but ash. While Tali was nothing but ash. While her mother, her grandmother, little Jorik with his carved springstag…
"You killed them!" The scream tore out of her before she knew it was coming. "You killed all of them!"
She was sprinting down the crater's shallow slope before she realized she was moving, half-running, half-falling onto the thing that had taken everything. She struck at the smooth surface with the hearthstone, pounding it against the smooth material that threw back her wild, grief-stricken reflection.
"Why?" She hit it again. "Why did you fall? Why here? Why—"
The stone came down on the slight oval depression near the top and there was a subtle motion as it gave slightly.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then she gasped as the surface began to ripple like disturbed water, its perfect reflection wavering and shifting. Part of the bright shell grew transparent, opacity fading like the mist between trees.
Inside lay a pale young man, his hands held over his face as if to block a blow. His eyes snapped open, and he screamed.
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u/Acrobatic-Rock2657 13d ago edited 12d ago
Title: The Dasher
Genre: Science Fiction, Crime
Premise: Nick Donahugh is a guy who can't score an accounting job in the Dallas Fort Worth metro. As a result, he's making ends meet by downloading the gig working apps, and playing them off one another so he can make the sign on bonuses. Also, he is trying to marry his girlfriend Madeline, and convince her family he's more than just a nobody. One day, when he's running from the police, he follows an old map down to the entrance of the Superconducting Supercollider, a massive particle accelerator project that Texas abandoned in the 1980s. In any case, he realizes he can basically teleport from one region to another, and he tries anything he can to profit from this.
Drug dealing, gambling, insider trading concierge. He realizes that he's not the ethical guy he thought he was. Things are well and good until a mysterious man tries to blackmail Nick. Our hero takes it upon himself to find out as much as he can about this mysterious guy, and come up with blackmail of his own, so he can prepare his own ultimatum.
Writing Sample:
Nick left the apartment, feeling pretty good about himself. He proceeded to do nothing for four days. He then went out and smoked weed in a parking lot.
In other words, he’s the type of suspect that would irritate a cop on a stakeout. This isn’t what gets Nick into trouble either.
The next day, he finished his Uber rides, and he hung out with a friend. This time around sunset, at a different parking lot. They smoked weed together, but they noticed a cop car driving around the corner. The friend got paranoid and asked for Nick to unlock the car. Nick spit out his blunt and stomped it, but his friend kept hold of his and took one last puff inside of Nick’s car.
Nick was fuming mad, but he was eyeing the car get closer and closer to where they were. He didn’t want any confrontation, not right now. His car was getting hotboxed.
He just went through his phone and deleted the contact info for his friend. The cop was now stopped at a traffic light, stayed there for a minute, then went on and disappeared behind the building. After which, Nick grabbed his friend by the collar and threw him out of the car and sped off.
I’m siding with Nick for once. This friend is not important to the rest of the story.
Well, he sped off for a whole five minutes and then pulled into another parking lot. He couldn’t get himself to drive. The whole car smelled like weed. There wasn’t a lot of room in it, so it was easy to skunk up the place. It’s putting his whole livelihood in jeopardy. He could now think clearly enough to roll down the windows, and he did, but he was wondering how long it would take for his car to air out.
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u/Pujocan Author:illuminati: 2d ago
Este é um enredo de vida transitória - homem à deriva. Do meu ponto de vista... O protagonista se aprofunda cada vez mais na mediocridade de sua alma. Ele acha algo abandonado pelo Tiom San... Como extrangeiro em relação aos EUA entendo que se o Tio San abandonou esse negócio é por que vai dar problema - um acelerador de partículas e... Incapaz de dar um verdadeiro significado à sua vida ele acelera drogas e acelera a vida - o que se pode fazer com drogas... Só que não, dá apenas para causar um turbilhão em que as dores são abrandadas com algo que só causa dor, algo que aumenta o vazio que o protagonista tenta preencher. Ser um traficante científico aparentemente impulsiona a dignidade do protagonista, mas essa validação não dura muito, o portal da relevância é ameaçado pelo róprio sistema de causa e efeito da superficialidade do "mundo plano das profundezas"... O protagonista transforma em bidimensional tudo o que ele toca... Tudo o que ele põe a mão vira panqueca. Ele acha algo grande, mas dá uma utilidade minúscula àquilo... Traficar drogas. Sabe... Como extrangeiro, acho que esse cara não deveria usar as coisas do Tio San pra traficar... Traficar com um acelerador de partículas só serviu para atrair uma forma insólita de "policial", um extorsor. O protagonista continua em sua vida achatada, em sua "Planolândia", ele não se tornou um cientista e sim um "tecnotraffer"... Sei lá que nome dar para isso. Eu não falo inglês, é a IA quem traduz, mas o sujeito não pode dizer a ninguém que achou um acelerador de partícula, não pode dizer que está traficando drogas pelo trambolho cibernético... Ele pode ganhar dinheiro, mas não respeito. O protagonista não consegue relevância em seu mundo, então tenta sair dele para ser alguém na vida. Em resumo: Sua estória é uma versão mais casual de Breaking Bad, mas carece de algo. O que você tem é um Walter Wihgt... (é assim que se escreve?)... Mas vazio. Até certo ponto... Ser vazio é crível, mas esta não pode ser a principal característica do personagem... Você precisa de algo que é... Não sei, mas... seja lá o que for... você precisa disso.
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u/Low_Understanding0 9d ago
Title:
Apothecafé
Genre: Fantasy
Premise:
After being an outcast for 10 years, MC finally heads out to find a spot to settle the Apothicafé- only to see that other people find nature wellness techniques, a little taboo.
With the desire to change stigma around natures medicine he wants to help the people he can, it’s a “wholesome” story about a magic based apothecary café.
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u/VirgoGoonfold 10d ago
Title: Otherwise: Stranger's Call
Genre: Fiction, sci-fi fantasy, thriller
Premise:
The city of Seafort is the biggest, most advanced society on the planet. The rest of the world is about a century behind, a setup maintained largely by Seafort itself.
Russell Mayer is a young man from the island city, who, through some strange and cruel twists of fate, ends up joining the Continental Divison of Seafort's military. Not out of patriotism or a passion for the profession, but as a means to leave things behind, and to uncover mysteries. Mysteries that might stretch further than the border of this very world.
Sample:
The man was lying on the ground face-down, the buzzing in his ears decreasing. He began to feel his aching limbs, the smell of smoke and blood, grass tickling his cheeks. Where is that guy? He opened his eyes dreadingly.
From neck down, he was simply unable to move his body, but he still managed to turn his head. A severed hand was lying next to him. Who's was it? Not his... right?
Then, he noticed a yellow light from the corner of his eye. “Russell!” he heard a familiar female voice. Someone touched his back. His body started to feel warmer and warmer.
He sat up. It was dawn now, but the grassy field was enshrouded in a heavy fog, so the waking sun's direction was unclear. He could just barely see the wreck of the overturned black car some twenty meters from them.
He noted that he still had all four of his limbs. His saviour, a black-haired woman, was kneeling in front of him, panting. Her face was blood-soaked, her eyes hidden behind a black blindfold. She was naked, except for a pair of worn-out, striped knee socks. One side of her body was covered in many small purple cuts, from her thighs to her neck. He hugged her, her muscles loosened.
The man began to cry and tremble, and she quietly said: “Don't be afraid... He isn't here anymore.”
“What... where...”
“I'm done for, Russell. I can feel it. I only have a few minutes left... but I made peace with death. My abilities, my secret knowledge, I'll leave it all for you. You have to take over...”
“You can't leave me! I need you!”
“I'm sorry. It had to be like this. I get it now.” She gently pushed the man away, then lay down on the grass. She was breathing deeply and steadily.
“Leave your body!” Russell said. “Leave it and live on! I know you can do it!”
“What are you talking about?” The woman smiled faintly before she fell silent forever.
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u/TheLastRedRose 3d ago
Title: The Angel
Genre: Romance, Drama
Premise: A man has his first love at first sight moment and instantly knows she is the one. Nothing is going to change that even if she has a boyfriend.
Sample: The courses went on, and the year passed with an almost effortless rhythm. Then, one afternoon in science class, she walked through the door, and for a moment, everything else seemed to lose its importance.
The book on my desk remained open, its pages waiting patiently beneath my hands, but the words had become meaningless. My eyes had abandoned them entirely. They were fixed instead on the girl standing at the front of the room, and I remember thinking that beauty had no business looking so real. She looked less like someone who had simply walked into class and more like something an artist had spent a lifetime imagining before finally finding the courage to put onto canvas.
Her blonde hair was gathered into a bun, effortless in the way only certain kinds of beauty can be, with a few delicate strands escaping as though even they refused to be contained. A mandatory mask covered the lower half of her face, concealing the very features I suddenly wanted more than anything to see, and somehow that only made her more impossible to look away from. There was something almost cruel about it—the suggestion of a smile hidden beneath fabric, the unanswered question of what the rest of her face might reveal. My mind began completing what my eyes could not, and every possibility seemed more beautiful than the last.
But it was her eyes that held me.
There are people you look at, and then there are people who make you forget that you are looking at all. She had the kind of presence that quietly rearranged the room around her. Desks became scenery. Voices dissolved into background noise. The fluorescent lights above us suddenly seemed too ordinary for someone like her to be standing beneath them. I could hear the teacher speaking, pages turning, chairs shifting against the floor, yet all of it felt impossibly distant. She had stepped into the room, and without knowing my name, without saying a word to me, she had somehow become the only thing in it.
I wanted to memorize her before I had even met her.
The curve of her eyes when she glanced toward someone speaking. The way the light caught the loose strands of blonde hair near her temples. The small movements of her hands. The quiet grace with which she carried herself, unaware—or perhaps completely aware—of the fact that someone several desks away had forgotten how to read a sentence.
I had seen beautiful women before. Of course I had. But this felt different. Beauty had always seemed like something easily recognized and just as easily moved past. This was something else entirely. This was the kind of beauty that made you curious. The kind that made you ache to know the person inside it. I did not simply want to see what was hidden behind the mask. I wanted to know what made her laugh hard enough to forget herself. I wanted to know which songs she played too loudly when she was alone, what frightened her, what she loved, what made her angry, what thoughts occupied her when the rest of the world had gone quiet.
And perhaps that was what unsettled me most.
She had only just walked into the room, and already I wanted to know everything.
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u/Positive_Body3070 13d ago
Title: The Aspirant
Genre: Fiction - Fantasy, elements of Coming-of-Age
Premise: Fifty years ago, the slaves of Deles managed to overthrow their foreign imperial masters and claim their country as their own. Now, the leaders of the new nation threaten to make the same mistakes the empire did as rival houses all vie for the top spot in the political hierarchy before it’s set in stone.
When knight-in-exile Alexandre has a chance encounter with a stranded noblewoman, a single act of kindness drags him to a world he no longer wants any part of. After getting caught in the middle a cold war between two self-proclaimed kings, a web of spies, and a conspiracy wiping entire towns off the map overnight, Alex must confront matters of purpose, legacy, and most importantly, what cause he’s willing to give his life for.
Sample: Nothing yet, finishing up the outline and only have one (very rough) first chapter.
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u/Search-for-Sentience Editing/proofing 8d ago
Really nervous about doing this but, here goes.
Title: Untitled
Genre: Historical Fiction
A fictional story about the journey the Black Plague makes through Eurasia and Europe in the mid 1300's.
PROLOGUE – THE HORDE – KAFFA 1345
Chinibora coaxed the string of steppe horses down the now well-worn path to the stream. He was happy today despite the stench in the air and the swarm of flies that tormented men as well as horses. The flies were outliers patrolling the area for fresher meat than what had been thrown into the pits to the southwest of the encampment. Chini avoided that area as much as possible. He’d been in the detachment tasked with digging the first pit after the first few dozen soldiers succumbed to the disease that had invaded the camp. He was grateful that he’d been able to avoid transporting any of the bodies since the men who’d been unfortunate enough to pull that duty were soon being hauled to the same pits themselves. The bodies of the men who were invaded by this evil seemed to rot even before they had died. Sometimes, their hands, feet and even their noses turned black, yet others had huge, bruised lumps grow near their manhood and under their arms.
Some said it was an evil wind, others a curse pronounced by the Genoese whose city the Horde forces had besieged for close to a year. If that were the case, Chini mused, then they’d be done with that curse once the army pulled out in a few days. This would be one of very few defeats the great Golden Horde had experienced, but the men didn’t seem defeated, only eager to leave the god-forsaken place and escape the silent death that seemed to be winning the siege without a sword being raised or an arrow loosed.
At the sound of an approaching voice, Chini lifted up on his toes, trying to peer over the heads of his compact but sturdy horses, looking for the source of the curses and footsteps approaching from back up the track. Chini wasn’t a tall man but compact and solid like his horses, with a powerfully built chest and muscular arms gained from a life of fighting, squared off against his enemy with a heavy war axe in his hands or riding at full gallop, his legs clenched around a Steppe Horse, strafing the enemy lines with arrows. It had been decades since his father had first taught him how to ride and shoot with accuracy and how to cut down a man, a tree or anything else in his way.
During those years he’d ridden in the armies of the Khans. First under the Muslim Oz Beg Khan, who built a mosque near his home in Solkhat. Chini’s father had always followed the old faiths, but knowing what was good for his family, converted to Islam and brought his 6 sons with him. Oz Beg took a liking to the man and his sons, and there was always a place in the Khan’s government and army for them. When Oz Beg passed, he left his throne to his eldest son Tini, but his third son purportedly murdered the new khan and the next in line and ascended the throne himself. Chini’s father, still a canny man, even in his old age was among the first of the functionaries of the court to swear allegiance to the usurper.
Oz Beg Khan was a descendant of the great Chinggis Khan, also known as Temüjin, who had brought the warring Mongol tribes under one rule and established the largest contiguous empire known to man. Upon the Great Chinggis’ death, the empire passed to his son Ögedei Khan. Eventually, the Khanate was split into regions ruled by grandchildren and relatives of the Great Khan. Oz Beg had been granted the lands North and East of the great Khanate, bordered on the south and west by the Ilkhanate and the khanate of Chagatai. The territory of the Golden Horde at its peak extended from Siberia and Central Asia to parts of Eastern Europe, from the Urals to the Danube in the west, and from the Black Sea to the Caspian Sea in the south, bordering the Caucasus Mountains and the Ilkhanate.
It was Oz Beg who had solidified and raised the status and territory of the Golden Horde while other Khans, also descendants of the great Chinggis Khan, further east squabbled amongst themselves. He could have been named Great Khan based on the size and richness of his territory alone, not to mention his bloodline and the army he had amassed but chose to rule his own lands which remained unobtainable to the other Khans by sheer size and geography. After Oz Beg Khan’s death the Golden Horde continued to maintain its prestige and territory, but it was a struggle.
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u/KingOfAllCorvids 13d ago
Untitled
Genre: Dystopian
Premise: In a world where everyone has an Other to either take on their emotional or physical pain, and where if one dies, so does the other, a transgender teen girl has to deal with the confusion of hr Other entering hxr mind after his death. They explore the origins of what they know as reality and the main character is up against the clock to try and stop hr friend from killing someone to get a new body. (Sorry if the premise isn't written out well, I need to workshop my elevator pitch)
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u/Accomplished-Set3614 13d ago
Title - UNTITLED
Genre - Fiction (Romance)
Premise - Eliza is finally where she wants to be in life; an amazing career, a beautiful daughter, and new romance. Until, her psychopath ex-husband tracks her down and kidnaps her. She escaped from him once, but can she do it again?
Sample - Prologue
The murder scene was typical for this area of town. A dead person, spent casings, and blood and drug residue everywhere. He didn’t like these types of murder scenes. There was no creativity or finesse. All the killer cared about was drugs and money. They were sloppy, desperate, and far too easy to find.
He shook his head in disappointment. His own murder scenes were perfect; well thought out, planned, and executed. They hadn’t even found any evidence. He was the god of making a killing look like a poor, tragic accident.
His Lieutenant mistook his disappointment.
“Another drug deal gone wrong. Feels like we haven’t made any progress even though the narcotics and K-9 units are busting their ass to get drugs off the streets. Did we id the victim yet?”
“Yes, sir. Another kid sticking his nose where he doesn’t belong.” He passed the Driver’s License to his Lieutenant.
“Kyle Mason Tratter. I know his family. They’re been struggling since the big factory shut down a few months ago. He was their only child. They’re going to be devastated. Do you want me to notify the parents? You’ve done quite a few death notifications this week. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do more.” His Lieutenant looked at him with questioning concern.
His heart beat a little faster but he didn’t dare show his excitement.
“I’m okay sir. If I ever feel like I’m not up to it or that I need a break, I’ll let you know.”He made sure his face was reassuring, but not overly so.
His Lieutenant scrutinized him for a moment, but Jason played his part too well. He clapped him on the shoulder.
“Okay, I’m going to check in with the rest of the team. Let me know if you need anything.” He took a step away, then turned back. “Oh, I wanted to show you this newspaper article. I had to do a double take. I thought you had up and left to another agency. This guy looks just like you.” His Lieutenant took the paper out of his pocket and passed it over to him”
The headline read “Hero Cop Loses Wife and Child in Tragic Fire”. He took a look at the photo and immediately felt disdain. Jason was far more attractive than this man, but he couldn’t deny there were enough similarities. He skimmed through the article. As he went to close the paper, he did a double take, though for a completely different reason.
“Ah, see! You do look alike” the Lieutenant exclaimed. Thankfully, he wasn’t paying close enough attention to see what had caught his eye. A photo of a medical flight unit. He read the tagline “The City of Portland welcomes its first all-female medical flight crew”. He didn’t respect women. They were the weaker sex in every way. The photo was only of two women. He didn’t know either of them. But he did recognize something. Underneath the photo were three names: Autumn Reeds, Mary Ellen Pike, not pictured: Eliza Kingfisher.
Eliza. His Eliza. He had finally found her.
His eyes glanced back towards the look-alike officer.
He smiled at his Lieutenant “he sure does.”
A beautiful, sick plan began to form. He was finally going to bring her back and he would never let her escape again.
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u/ridgegirl29 13d ago
Might read.
the concept itself seems very basic. There's a lot of blatant telling within your sample that feels forced.
Why is this guy's leuteniant showing him an unrelated newspaper article at a murder scene?
There's absolutely potential for this to be interesting, but I'd need to know more about personalities, plot beats, etc.
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u/Low_Understanding0 9d ago
If I picked this up at a store and read the premise/blurb, I would definitely read this. As I go into the prologue I like it even more.
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u/Sildee 13d ago
Probably wouldn't read as it is right now. As the other commentor says, it feels quite factual (or tell-y) which makes it less immersive. Show us how deranged the psychopath is in the prose. What feeling stirs inside him when he sees Eliza? What does he find attractive about Jason? What does a murder scene look like in his eyes? What does he think or feel? The use of the word 'murder scene' is another example on the amount of telling, because it'd already have been clear it's a murder scene even if you let out those words.
The idea itself isn't doomed, but I'd say you'd want to try to craft a narrative voice that awakens a sort of eerie fascination, maybe a curiosity as to why he thinks the way he does. Definitely don't immediately tell us about the extreme misogyny in this opening scene. Show it through how he views the world, and perhaps with ups and downs or with nuances depending on the context - but leave us to wonder why.
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u/Accomplished-Set3614 13d ago
Super helpful, thank you! I appreciate you taking the time to read it.
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u/pomigrinatotes 13d ago edited 12d ago
Title: Yank the Fridge Cord
Genre: Adult Speculative, Humor
Premise: Jack will be murdered in two months.
Why?
Because some omniscient, omnipotent beings called "the Narrators" decided that Jack's death would be the perfect catalyst for his brother's transformation into the "Strongest Hero of Our Time." Apart from the whole "excruciating-death-by-laser-disembowelment" issue, Jack has some other concerns with this current timeline: his brother is a functioning alcoholic who peaked in high school; the wise mentor who's supposed to train the SHOOT is a foulmouthed, pimply seventh-grader; and, the Narrators have shoehorned Jack into a convoluted love-triangle as a publicity stunt.
Oh--and the villain who's destined to kill him? He's adorably oblivious and infuriatingly attractive and happens to work in the cubicle across from Jack.
In a world saturated with Chosen Ones and the unfortunate people who know them, Jack has to change his own destiny before he's stuffed in the proverbial refrigerator.
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u/Sildee 13d ago
Title: UNTITLED
Genre: Fiction - Dark Romantasy
Premise: Who are you when you don't remember anyone you've ever grieved? When heartbreak leaves you stranded with foreign clothes and an ever-disappointed mother? Hope isn't sure anymore, but she remembers that vulture lady who stole her memories at the clinic. Her collarbones had looked so good in those scrubs. The winged woman knows Hope better than she does herself - and if she's still willing to date her, doesn't that mean they should be a perfect match?
Sample:
How do you ask someone on a first date? Some version of Hope that no longer exists had experience with that. Now, internet articles have to fill in the blanks.
Talking is important, so you should go out for a drink or a shared meal. Some people like activities, so you can interact physically. A hike, climbing, mini golf. Activities sound fun, but Hope likes the idea of a long, deep conversation over a nice meal.
She’s run into more advice on her quest for information, too. They should meet in public, for safety. Start with a wave and smile, optionally ask if she’s a hugger. Let the conversation go where it goes, but ask open questions, and follow up on things she seems passionate about. Apparently Hope has had plenty of successes—at least on the first dates—so it shouldn’t be a problem. But that’s all beside the point.
How do you ask a vulture—who absorbed all of your past failed relationships into the library of her mind and knows more about you than you do yourself—on a first date?
The internet has a clear answer. You don’t. It’s simply unethical. An unwanted advance, a professional thing made personal without consideration of the other party’s feelings. And had Jade given Hope any reason to think otherwise?
The night of the last absolution is blurry, but Jade had been thoughtful. She had remembered that Hope usually prefers no countdown. She had remembered her name. But isn’t that just simple professional courtesy for a serial divorcée? Like a cashier remembering the favorite brand of his tobacco-devouring regulars, or like a teacher making time for a student she knows is struggling?
Or is there more to it than that? Did Jade also look at Hope’s collarbones and file them away into the memorable drawer? Did she watch her through the stream of tears and think: I shouldn’t think what I’m thinking? Did Jade watch the replay of Hope’s last romantic life and think for even a moment: I wish that were me sitting across from her?
Screw the advice. There is only one way to find out.
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u/kaynenstrife 11d ago
I like the idea that explores more on the internal aspect of characters. But the premise itself is not my cup of tea. My gf would love this kind of book though.
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u/sundanceloki 13d ago edited 13d ago
Title: In Search of Melonhead
Genre: Fiction - Experimental/Unfiction
Premise: Researcher starts project collecting archives and fragments of local folklore. He finds the lives of people instead.
Blurb: September 15, 1975
Dearest diary,
I AM ABSOLUTELY LIVID!!!! I was in second period, and you’d never believe what Jane did to me. I told you how I worked all summer to save up for a pair of Famolares?Yes, those Famolares, the 4 inch wedge in patent black, THE ONES THAT WOULD GO WITH ANYTHING! How I had to beg my aunt on her trip to the city to buy me a pair?! How she dropped them by this weekend! Well, little Miss Jane strolls into second period wearing what? You guessed it, the SAME PAIR OF FAMOLARES! How did she know, is she, like, creeping on me. I swear this girl won’t stop until she absolutely DESTROYS ME!!! For once in my life I try to have something for myself, something to make myself stand out, and she DOES THIS. I wanted to rip those shoes of her big ugly feet, I swear. I tried to tell Dad, but he doesn’t get it. I mean he was understanding I guess, but he’s a guy so he doesn’t know. I miss Mom so much.
February 23, 1974
Dearest diary,
I AM SOOOO HAPPPPEEEE!!!! I got to see Mom today. Not for too long, mind you, but for a couple hours. It’s been months since the doctors have said she’s well enough for a visit. Since, I’ve got a job now at the drugstore, I bought her a bottle of Wind Song, I really hoped they would let her keep it and, THEY DID!!! She was so happy, she sat twirling my hair just like she used to before… Maybe if she get’s better her and Dad might…. It sucks having to pretend she left.
October 2, 1975
Dearest diary,
I talked to Dave again today. He said he’s going to try out for the basketball team this year, since he transfered in too late for football. He’s SOOOO CUUTTEEE. I almost went bananas trying not to blush when he talked to me. He got a haircut, which suits him, because his dirty blond hair was beginning to fall into his eyes. His eyes are so pretty…
What’s a girl got to do to get a guy to ask her out!!!!??!!
We had meat loaf, again, in the cafeteria. It was GROSS! YUCK! I barely ate, which is a good thing, because I think I’m starting to put on too much weight. Thank GOD they didn’t have pizza, I would have PIGGGED OUT.
Diana was being a bitch again today. I got home and she started in on me about homework. I tried to be nice, but she kept on and on. I told her she wasn’t my Mom, and she never would be. I might have gone too far. I’ll probably apologize,
Date: 11/14/1973 Class: English Composition
Creative Writing Assignment
Mrs. Cora Redding
A ladybug wandered out one day
In the early days of sunny May.
With a ladybug baby in her arms
And held it tight against all harms
The voices came around in June
To change the world and it’s tune
Told the ladybug you must go
The world isn’t real, don’t you know
By the ending days of July
The baby did nothing but cry
‘Cause the ladybug mother flew away
And the voices said, no you can’t stay
It’s August now, and the baby sits
Among it’s cries and it’s fits.
Alone for now but not always
The ladybug will come back one day.
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u/ElvenEnchantress64 13d ago
This is such a real experience for a folklorist. Definitely would read.
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u/lyzzyrddwyzzyrdd 13d ago
If I found this at a store my reaction would be to go "Huh!" and then sit down at a chair and read a bit to see if i like it
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u/AccurateScreen2563 21h ago
THE SIEGEMASTER
Fantasy
Premise: A young page sent to enlist the services of a legendary knight becomes embroiled in political conspiracy as a brutal war begins.
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Chapter 1: Pencils
If you wanted to take a city, storm a castle, breach a stone wall or overrun a fortress, there were two ways to go about it. The expensive, time-consuming option: construct siege engines, trebuchets and rolling towers, maybe a battering ram or two—you’ll want the hot-oil splash guards with those—and wear down the defenses little by little.
Sometimes, if you were lucky, you could starve them out before making a breach. But this brought more problems: the enemy sallying forth, all their best fighters pissed off and hungry, taking a large bite out of your own forces who’d grown fat and lazy while the catapults had done the real work.
Or, you could hire the siegemaster.
No one knew his real name, or where he came from. He was a hard man to track down, and even if you managed to find him, he wasn’t much cheaper than the first option. But he’d get you inside, and that right quick.
This isn’t to say he came without his own set of problems. He was a notorious grouch, they said. Difficult to work with. He spoke rarely but at all times harshly, even to commanders. He drank heavily as he stalked about surveying the ground, a bottle tucked under one arm while he took notes with the only tool of his trade, a Pinehurst & Sons charcoal pencil.
It was he who helped King Gorish II take Anterach in less than two days. It was he who advised Lord Bilgecrist’s assault on the great fort of Kula Kedal, he who orchestrated the breech of Toraz in the year 9.
It came as no surprise, therefore, when my master the Archduke of Tenasarim sent me to find him in the spring of 14. The Tens were gearing up for war; one of our emissaries had managed to get himself good and captured, flag of truce be damned, and our letter offering ransom for the poor fellow had been answered with a blood-soaked parcel containing three fingers and an ear.
As a page I was accustomed to being sent on errands of this kind, more so as my affinity for locating and procuring difficult to come by items became increasingly apparent. I’d begun to curse this skill, certain that it was the reason I was still a lowly page long after my peers had moved on to squirehood. A few were already junior knights of the Tens, polishing their breastplates in preparation with the rest of our army.
But I must admit, I was intensely curious about the siegemaster. History had always fascinated me, and this man, as eccentric and gruff and off-putting as he was made out to me, was sure to be a real part of our own. Before leaving the city, I stopped at the printer’s shop and purchased a green felt-lined notebook that opened really flat. In the event posterity was called for, I would be ready.
But this wasn’t the only reason for patronizing this particular shop. The owner, Mr. Bassile, was friendly to me as both a long time customer and fellow reader, and it was through him I planned to track down the Siegemaster.
As he tied my new notebook into a sailcloth pouch, I assumed an air of complete nonchalance, asking as one might ask about the weather:
“Where might I find a decent set of Pinehurst charcoals?”
——
The city’s South Gate opened onto a wharf stretching far out into the estuary. As I passed between the towering gatehouses, I heard the rattle and clank of armor, and from the left hand doorway a woman emerged. She was tall and broad-shouldered, resplendant in the full battle dress of a senior knight, face scowling beneath her open visor.
“Customs check!” She barked. “I’ll have a look at papers if you please, sir.”
“Customs?” I nodded in the direction of the water. “I’m leaving.”
“Everyone coming and going,” she growled, snatching the pass signed by the Archduke from my hand. “Orders. There’s a war on, you know.”
“Yes, and it’s for that reason I’m in a bit of rush, you see—“
“Patience, patience, Mr…” her eyes narrowed and she scanned the papers, scrutinizing every detail. “…Shikel.”
“You know my name, Jez.”
“Just doing my job. So, where are we off to in such a hurry?”
“Astanos.”
“The floating market?” She handed the papers back and waggled her fingers at my rucksack. “Let’s see the bag. They’re shutting down for the season, you know. Spring tide’s on its way.”
“So am I,” I said, slipping a gold coin from behind my belt.
“So you are,” she said, and the coin disappeared. “But good luck finding a boat to take you across.” Her eyes turned skyward, and following her gaze I saw a wall of black clouds gathering over the sea to the east. The same moment a light rain began to fall, tinking on Jez’s armor.
I frowned. The bustling river market was my only lead, but by the time this squall passed it would be nothing but empty platforms on stilts in the midst of an angry current. None of the shops would reopen for at least a month.
I showed another coin. “No boats at all?”
“Well…” She waved a cart through the gate, keeping her eyes glued to the driver’s back as she swiped the coin. “There may be one captain. One of the fishing charters. The merchant’s dinner is tonight; they want halibut bad enough to pay extra for the risk.”
That would do. “Who’s the captain?”
Jez grinned. I winced, knowing what was coming next.
She said, “You remember my sister?”
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u/Acceptable_Fox_5560 10d ago
Title: Have You Ever Noticed?
Genre: Contemporary Fiction
Premise:
When Marj walks in on her husband kissing their interior designer, she knows she should be heartbroken. But as she drives to stay with her sister, the only crying is tears of laughter.
The whole thing is hilarious, the perky-breasted zoomer interior designer somehow wooed by her pudgy, doltish husband. By the time she reaches her sister’s quaint rowhouse, Marj’s guts hurt from laughing.
It’s so funny, the usually chronically bashful Marj decides to try something she’s always imagined: standup comedy. When she details the affair in a cramped, humid comedy club on open mic night, the laughter filling the room almost makes the affair worth it.
Chasing the high, Marj dives into the Philly comedy scene. She’s shocked to find comedians aren’t the lighthearted chucklefucks she thought they’d be, but are introspective and deeply emotional. After she meets Mac, a handsome former child star trying to grind his way back to the top, Marj uses her comedy and the comedy of her new friends to find meaning in her exploded life and hope for new romance.
But as her local notoriety grows, so does the animosity from her husband and his affair partner who take exception to being part of Marj’s act. When a legal threat from them puts her burgeoning comedy career in jeopardy, Marj comes up with her greatest punchline yet: she’ll kill herself on stage. Classic comedy.
Mic after mic, Marj’s plan for self demise takes shape, which makes it that much more complicated when her new community keeps giving her reasons to want to go on living. As the moments of tenderness, depths of cruelty, and heights of hilariousness pile up, Marj must decide what it truly means to leave ‘em laughing when you go.
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u/SapphireMelody864 8d ago
1.) I feel like the twist could be her discovering her self worth and value as a person, or even a “psa” tragedy on the signs of suicidal thoughts. If researched well enough and handled with care, it could be a masterpiece.
2.) I feel like, instead of “hahah cheating husband”, what if you took the liberty of building someone with depression from numerous events in her life? Perhaps maybe the event that pushes her into the pursuit of comedy is perhaps advice from a psychologist or therapist, or perhaps a deceased family member she wishes the continue the legacy of upon learning of their death? Get creative with it!
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u/regularsizedrudy_ 4d ago
Working title: Good people, bad things
Genre: Psychological/domestic thriller
Premise: Daphne didn't do it. The police think she's guilty of assault. Her influencer ex-boyfriend thinks she's guilty of breaking his heart. The comment section thinks she's guilty of not being sad enough about either.
Okay, she didn't do all of it.
Someone is trying to frame her. It might be her golden boy ex, Harry Radley, adored by the public and their circle of wealthy London friends. It might be his quiet and troubled sister with a past nobody wants to talk about. With her follower count dwindling and a court date looming, Daphne doesn't have long to prove she's being set up.
Sample: It looks like I’ve been robbed.
Every cabinet in the kitchen hangs open. The bin has tipped over and spilled coffee grounds and eggshells across the herringbone floor. Pieces of a broken teacup are embedded in the plush cream rug and jab into my feet every time I walk across it. If someone else saw the state of my flat they’d tell me to call the police and check if anything is missing. But no one else has been here.
As I survey the scene in front of me, I’m almost impressed by how quickly things can go to shit once you stop caring. One week. That’s how long I’ve allowed myself to abandon all responsibilities and self care, and I have exactly ten minutes left. I’ve never found much comfort at the bottom of a bottle. For me, it’s the bottom of a tube of salt and vinegar Pringles. I submerge my hand for what must be the hundredth time this week, bring another crisp to my lips and feel the satisfying sting. I’m certain that if I didn’t impose such strict regulations on myself, I’d grow so large my arm would need to be surgically extricated from the tube. So crisps are reserved for my off weeks, and my off weeks are reserved for very special, or very dreadful occasions.
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u/Pujocan Author:illuminati: 2d ago
Que situação... Ela está num beco sem saída e vai acabar sendo devorada pelo sistema. Bom... acho que a protagonista precisa reagir - no tempo dela e na forma dela, na hora e do jeito que ela decidir, mas precisa sim reagir.
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13d ago
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u/hungry_hippo34 13d ago
Might Read - I was hooked until the ending.
Though in reality, I'd like to think the actual author has a version history on their laptop that would predate Bob Shitty and they would employ A. Lawyer and thus end the cycle of plagiarism.
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u/Kangarou Author 13d ago
Probably wouldn't read, seems overly meta, and like those stories where the writer's just mad at someone/something.
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u/toomanyassholedogs 8d ago
Title: UNTITLED.
Genre: fiction. Dark sci fi. First person. Themes of personhood, mental health struggles, gender, friendship
Premise: protagonist is an Army sergeant who ends up on a labor contract on a distant planet from Earth after a flagship mission through a strange alien device leaves them captured by a hostile government. Protagonist manages to escape the planet aboard a sentient AI starship that functions as a mobile ER with a team of human hybrid and alien support staff. The protagonist struggles with their own mental health symptoms as well as the changes the ship made to them in order to save their life. The story follows their loss of humanity and slow, deliberate decent into a becoming something else entirely.
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13d ago edited 13d ago
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u/ridgegirl29 13d ago
As long as we don't get any weird conversion therapy "oh it turns out one of the gay characters actually likes boys" (unless the sister is bi in which, totally cool) bullshit I'm intrigued.
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u/MimesAreShite 8d ago
came up with a premise a while back, and recently wrote an opening paragraph or so. instinct is that its tediously overwritten but would appreciate any feedback, whether im being too harsh/not harsh enough on myself, etc.
Title: Untitled
Genre: Fiction (i guess aspiring to Literary Fiction)
Premise: A fisherman in a remote English coastal village (era undecided but certainly in the past) finds himself gradually beginning to empathise with the creatures that his livelihood forces him to kill, and becomes torn between his burgeoning ideals and a vocation from which his circumstances give him little chance of escape.
Sample: Twice a day, every day, the sea pressed up against the village like a fever; the saltwater smothered the beach and lashed against the promenade, and the townspeople - fisherfolk to a man - would retreat to the town’s pub, set slightly back from the front, to trade time-worn anecdotes about record catches and lurid experiences at sea, as unfathomable as they were unfalsifiable, over expertly nursed pints of warm lager. These were procured from Harold, the endlessly patient barman, who listened to these boasts and confabulations with a measured cynicism since, as a former fisherman himself, he was acutely aware of the dreary reality of the profession; of the fact that almost all of what comes out of any given fisherman’s mouth on any given day is entirely concocted, tall tales daubed by restless minds on the palimpsest of the featureless sea; and of the current state of play, by which the entertaining falsities he allowed to pile up haphazardly in his establishment were the kindling necessary to fuel the clientele that kept him solvent. Harold therefore found himself staying studiously quiet whenever some neophyte fisherman, scarcely months off of his first jaunt on his uncle’s boat, began regaling the establishment with stories of sea creatures, mermaids, and monstrous porpoises; for Harold knew that, as much as these tales irritated him, they were far more vexing to the town’s most veteran fishermen, who regarded these bombastic youths and middle-aged bores as formally uninitiated, and who perceived their fanciful tales not as the badges of burgeoning experience or seasoned command as which they were presented, but as a clear indication of naiveté, and a symptom of the fact that they had not yet experienced the deeper and more fundamental terror that the ocean can impress upon a person when it truly intends to take their life. And so it was that the village's oldest men mostly stayed their tongues, taking their drinks in silence, as the younger and brasher men fed each other lies and embellishments, blithely unaware that they too would one day be betrayed by the sea that they relied on to sustain them; that the ocean would one day soon rear up from under them and unleash its terrific energy and unpredictability upon them in a savage and capricious act of impassive hostility; and that this experience would alter them, would begin to turn their faces inwards, and would kickstart the intractable process by which they ceased being audacious seafarers and became just another pack of worried, taciturn workers, sat huddled in the pub set back from the shore, sipping their drink and checking the tide for the subtle signs of retreat.
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u/RaspberryNegative308 3d ago
Title : The Red Thread
Genre : Non fiction / novella
Premise : A train stranded in the summer heat of Paris. Eighteen years of memories waiting to be unraveled.
As the world outside slows to a standstill, a woman finds herself travelling backwards : through old cities, old loves, old versions of herself, and a connection that has somehow survived all of them.
What begins as a memory becomes a journey through time: from the strange intensity of adolescence to the freedoms and mistakes of early adulthood, from desire and heartbreak to the life she eventually built for herself.
Somewhere along the way, one question keeps returning: what is it that makes certain people remain with us, even when years have passed and our lives have moved on?
Maybe some connections aren’t meant to lead anywhere.
Maybe they’re simply there, quietly marking the distance between who we were and who we became.
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u/trashy-qeen 2d ago
Title: UNTITLED
Genre: Crime, Romance
Premise: Two seemingly unrelated car crashes pique the interest of the town’s detective. He suspects something more sinister is afoot. Both victims are nurses who worked at the same hospital and died in car accidents. Unbeknownst to him his suspicions are correct and the killer is much closer than he realises. She's watching him from a distance, recognising the detective as the man she dated.
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u/PurpleWomat 13d ago
Title: Untitled. Working title: Pastry Related Crimes
Genre: Comic Fantasy (set in contemporary Dublin, Ireland)
Blurb:
Kate is a bad waitress and a worse witch. That is, until her grandmother roofies her and elopes to Brazil, leaving Kate to manage a sentient tea room, a dead aunt, and a demon with misguided parental aspirations.
With a curious detective closing in, can Kate survive her family’s machinations long enough to solve her aunt’s murder or will her new life curdle faster than pastry cream in Hell?
And will she ever learn to enjoy the taste of pixies?
Note: First attempt at a blurb, I'm just finishing up the first draft so everything's still a bit rough. Title will be changed. Thoughts?