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so important to not only write it bad but write it problematic. kill the twitter user that lives in your mind. you are not beholden to the potential criticisms of an imaginary audience.

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A little snippet of alob with cutie Sennan🗡

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“This story idea will be simple and short.” Lies.

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You Don't Need an Agent! Publishers That Accept Unsolicited Submissions

I see a few people sayin that you definitely need an agent to get published traditionally. Guess what? That's not remotely true. While an agent can be a very useful tool in finding and negotiating with publishers, going without is not as large of a hurdle as people might make it out to be!

Below is a list of some of the traditional publishers that offer reading periods for agent-less manuscripts. There might be more! Try looking for yourself - I promise it's not that scary!

Albert Whitman & Company: for picture books, middle-grade, and young adult fiction

Hydra (Part of Random House): for mainly LitRPG

Kensington Publishing: for a range of fiction and nonfiction

NCM Publishing: for all genres of fiction (YA included) and nonfiction

Pants of Fire Press: for middle-grade, YA, and adult fiction

Tin House Books: very limited submission period, but a good avenue for fiction, literary fiction, and poetry written by underrepresented communities

Quirk Fiction: offers odd-genre rep for represented and unagented authors. Unsolicited submissions inbox is closed at the moment but this is the page that'll update when it's open, and they produced some pretty big books so I'd keep an eye on this

Persea Books: for lit fiction, creative nonfiction, YA novels, and books focusing on contemporary issues

Baen: considered one of the best known publishers of sci-fi and fantasy. They don't need a history of publication.

Chicago Review Press: only accepting nonfiction at the moment, but maybe someone here writes nonfiction

Acre: for poetry, fiction and nonfiction. Special interest in underrepresented authors. Submission period just passed but for next year!

Coffeehouse Press: for lit fiction, nonfiction, poetry and translation. Reading period closed at time of posting, but keep an eye out

Ig: for queries on literary fiction and political/cultural nonfiction

Schaffner Press: for lit fiction, historical/crime fiction, or short fiction collections (cool)

Feminist Press: for international lit, hybrid memoirs, sci-fi and fantasy fiction especially from BIPOC, queer and trans voices

Evernight Publishing: for erotica. Royalties seem good and their response time is solid

Felony & Mayhem: for literary mystery fiction. Not currently looking for new work, but check back later

This is all what I could find in an hour. And it's not even everything, because I sifted out the expired links, the repeat genres (there are a lot of options for YA and children's authors), and I didn't even include a majority of smaller indie pubs where you can really do that weird shit.

A lot of them want you to query, but that's easy stuff once you figure it out. Lots of guides, and some even say how they want you to do it for them.

Not submitting to a Big 5 Trad Pub House does not make you any less of a writer. If you choose to work with any publishing house it can take a fair bit of weight off your shoulders in terms of design and distribution. You don't have to do it - I'm not - but if that's the way you want to go it's very, very, very possible.

Have a weirder manuscript that you don't think fits? Here's a list of 50 Indie Publishers looking for more experimental works to showcase and sell!

If Random House won't take your work - guess what? Maybe you're too cool for Random House.

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based on the soundtrack of stories post!

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕺𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊—In Between by Robot Koch, Finnegan Tui

(skipping the B-rolls) As the screen fades to black, wisps of shadow curl and twist through the darkness, shifting like living smoke. A faint whisper of wind cuts through the silence before the bold, silver letters of ESSEBRIS emerge, forming from the swirling shadows. The text flickers as if struggling against the darkness before solidifying with a soft metallic sheen. The shadows linger for a moment before dissipating, leaving nothing but silence.

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖑 𝕺𝖋 𝕬 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗—Rival by Ruelle

"Rival" by Ruelle fits Ellowyn because it captures the tension of being trapped in a fate she never chose. The pulsing energy mirrors her slow unraveling, the way she fights to hold onto herself even as she’s forced down a path she can’t escape. The lyrics echo her struggle—not defiance, but the weight of inevitability, of becoming something she never wanted to be. It’s the sound of her last moments of agency slipping away, of her being shaped by forces stronger than her, until there’s nothing left but the madness taking over.

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖆𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖞𝖘𝖙 𝕿𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖐—Song of Hal: Strings in B Minor

"Song of Hal: Strings in B Minor" is the perfect catalyst song for Essebris. The slow, mournful strings and deep cello carry the weight of the story’s emotional downfall, mirroring the inevitable loss and descent into madness. The lingering hums feel like echoes of what once was—fading memories, fractured identities, and the quiet sorrow woven through every choice the characters are about to make. It’s not just a song; it’s the sound of Essebris unraveling, of everything slipping beyond repair.

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖁𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘 𝕿𝖚𝖓𝖊—Bathroom Dance by Hildur Guðnadóttir

"Bathroom Dance" by Hildur Guðnadóttir is the perfect theme for Essebris’ so-called villains—though I don’t see any of them as truly evil, just victims of their own pasts. This song, in particular, fits Roman the moment he crosses the point of no return. The eerie, almost hypnotic strings reflect the unraveling of his mind, the quiet acceptance of his descent. It’s not rage or chaos—it’s something colder, more intimate, the moment where he no longer fights what he’s becoming. This song isn’t about madness—it’s about surrendering to it.

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖑𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖝 𝕾𝖔𝖓𝖌—Beneath The Brine by The Family Crest

"Beneath the Brine" isn’t just the climax song for Essebris—it’s the song that started it all. It’s the scene that pushed me deeper into this world, the one that set everything in motion. A moment of blatant betrayal, raw and undeniable, where any hope between Ellowyn and Roman shatters completely. The contrast between the song’s upbeat, almost whimsical sound and the sheer devastation of the scene makes it all the more unsettling. It’s the kind of moment that lingers, that twists everything beyond repair. This song isn’t just part of Essebris—it is Essebris.

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕰𝖕𝖎𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊 𝕸𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖉𝖞—Death In The Afternoon by Sin Fang

"Death in the Afternoon" is the only melody that fits the epilogue of Essebris. It carries that unsettling weight of an ending we all saw coming—one with no true winners, no real catharsis, just the inevitable collapse. We held on, hoping for more, even when we knew it was never meant to be. And now, all that’s left is the heavy aftermath, the silence after everything has unraveled. It’s final, yet it lingers, never quite settling, just like the story itself.

✧tag: @lord-fallen , @thatfunkylilfey , @bookofsloth , @wildjuniperjones , +anyone else who wants to join.

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Writers, imagine your WIP as a movie or a series—what would its soundtrack sound like? This isn’t just about picking songs; it’s about crafting a musical journey that reflects your story’s heart, tension, and emotions.

Your challenge: Curate a 6-song playlist for your WIP, where each song serves a unique storytelling role. Think of it like selecting tracks for a film score, with each one carrying a different narrative weight.

তততততততততততততততততততততত

🎬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐨��𝐢𝐞𝐬: 6 𝐄𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬

▥ 1. The Overture – The anthem of your WIP. If your story had an opening credits scene, what song would set the tone?

▤ 2. The Soul of a Character – Choose one main character and find a song that embodies their struggles, dreams, or internal conflict. (Tell us why you chose it!)

▧ 3. The Catalyst Track – A song that represents a pivotal turning point in the story. A betrayal? A revelation? A moment where everything changes?

▨ 4. The Villain’s Tune – Every great story has conflict. Pick a song that embodies your antagonist (or biggest obstacle). Is it chaotic? Lurking and slow? Charismatic and deadly?

▦ 5. The Climax Song – The moment everything builds up to—the final confrontation, battle, or emotional peak. What’s playing when it all comes crashing down?

▩ 6. The Epilogue Melody – The final track as the story ends. Does it leave behind sadness, hope, nostalgia, or something unresolved?

তততততততততততততততততততততত

✑ Tag fellow writers to challenge them, or one can simply join! I can’t wait to hear the soundtrack of your worlds! As default, I'm open to being tagged—I’d love to see what your stories sound like!

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୭࿔ Writer Thoughts: The Fear That Haunts Me

Lately, I’ve been haunted by a particular fear—not of failure, not of rejection, but something more subtle, more sneaky. The fear that my stories, the ones I’ve carried with me for years, have outgrown me.

I think every writer dreams of doing justice to the worlds they create. We spend years crafting intricate histories, weaving together characters with loves and losses, and constructing entire mythologies from the ground up. And yet, there’s a moment—one that sneaks up on you—where you start to wonder: What if I’m not the right person to tell this story?

What if my writing skills don’t match the weight of the story I want to tell? What if my execution is clumsy, my prose inadequate, my characters lacking the depth they deserve?

My biggest fear isn’t that my work will be bad—bad writing can be improved, revised, rewritten. My fear is that it will be almost good. That it will sit just on the edge of brilliance but never quite cross that threshold. That if I ever put my work into the world, someone will read it and say, This had potential.

And I know what they would mean. They wouldn’t mean it as a compliment. They’d mean that it could have been great—if only someone else had written it. If only the right writer had taken my idea and shaped it into something truly breathtaking. And the thought of that—that my ideas, my worlds, my characters could have flourished in different hands but are stunted in mine—is devastating.

Because these stories matter to me. They aren’t just things I came up with one day and decided to write down. They are a part of me, pieces of my soul spilled onto the page. And yet, there’s a voice in my head that whispers: Maybe they deserve better than you.

It’s a paralyzing thought. It keeps me from finishing projects, from taking the next step toward publication, from believing in my own work. It makes me hesitate before every sentence, second-guess every plot point, wonder if I should just shelve the entire thing until I’m "better"—as if I’ll ever reach some magical threshold of good enough.

But then, I remind myself of something important.

These stories, these characters, these ideas—they chose me. No one else has spent years breathing life into them. No one else has carried them in their heart, through every rewrite and every late-night brainstorm. No one else has agonized over the details, shaped their voices, or felt the ache of their struggles the way I have.

Maybe someone else could write them better. But they won’t—because they weren’t meant to. Because these stories, flawed as they may be, belong to me.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

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I have to say — Your eight chapter method is brilliant. It reminds me of the 8 arcs approach. Great work!

Aw, thank you so much! I usually don't give writing advice since I really do see writing as a self learning experience. But I'm glad that this is able to help others in some form or another! Will be making on how i approach the eight chapters method soon!

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here's a little peek at my project planning journals. I use my tablet and Milanote sometimes, but I love the feel of writing things down and getting to decorate, draw, and highlight.🪻💫

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୭࿔ Writer Thoughts: Anonymity as an Author

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about anonymity in writing. In a time where authors share their lives, personalities, and even their faces as part of their brand, anonymity doesn’t seem much of a popular choice. I don't know, I could be wrong. (Personal experience from what I've seen. Writeblr is an exception to this)

And to be clear—I don’t think there’s anything wrong with writers sharing themselves publicly. Some people thrive in that space, and it’s beautiful to see authors connecting with readers in a deeply personal way. But I’ve realized that’s not for me. I don’t feel the need to be seen or known outside of my stories. My words, my worlds, my characters—that’s what I want to leave behind. Not the online presence I would have cultivated. Just the stories themselves, standing on their own, hopefully continuing to resonate long after I’m gone.

We often talk about writing as an extension of self, but does it have to be an invitation into the self? Can an author exist separately from their work and still be meaningful? I believe so.

That’s the kind of legacy I want. One where my name—if it even matters—becomes secondary to what I create. I want my books to find their way into hands that will love them, without needing my face attached to them. I want my characters to live in the minds of readers, without the distraction of knowing too much about the person who created them. And, honestly? I want the freedom of existing outside of my own work, of not having to perform a version of myself for the sake of visibility.

Maybe that’s an unpopular take in an era where social media thrives on who we are just as much as what we make. But I think there’s power in remaining unseen. In letting the art breathe on its own, without a creator’s presence looming over it. In knowing that even when I step away, the stories will still exist, moving forward without me.

So, here’s my question: Is there still space for anonymity in writing? Can we allow authors to fade into the background while their work takes center stage? Or is the nature of storytelling too intertwined with the storyteller now?

I’d love to hear thoughts on this—especially from others who, like me, prefer to keep a distance between their personal lives and their work.

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✑chapter 2; Essebris by A.O Morrow.

The shift from death to life was jarring, a sharp plunge into nothingness. Ellowyn drifted in an abyss, a weightless void pressing in from all sides, suffocating and endless. Darkness wrapped around her like a burial shroud, thick and unyielding. Her body felt wrong—like it didn’t belong to her, like she had been stitched back into something that no longer fit.

Then came the weight. The crushing, unrelenting force of earth packed tight against her skin, pressing into her ribs, her chest, her skull. The realization struck like ice water poured down her spine—she was buried.

Panic surged through her veins, burning hot and frantic. She tried to move, but the soil resisted, heavy and unforgiving. Her hands clawed at the dirt, nails scraping against compacted earth, her breath coming in short, desperate bursts. Her lungs screamed for air, but all she inhaled was dust.

Her heart pounded like war drums in the silence of the grave. With every ounce of strength left in her trembling limbs, she pushed upward, her body straining against the weight pressing her down. The soil gave only slightly, stubborn and clinging, as if it had no intention of letting her go. Her vision swam in darkness, her ears ringing with the deafening silence of the earth swallowing her whole.

Then—cold.

The first brush of air against her fingertips sent a jolt through her bones, an electric shock of relief and desperation. She clawed harder, muscles screaming in protest, until her hands broke through the surface. Dirt clung to her skin, sliding beneath her nails, filling her mouth and nose as she gasped, coughing up soil that had invaded her lungs. The world above called to her, whispering of breath, of life, of the bitter night air waiting beyond her grave.

She dug. She pushed. She fought.

The earth relented, spilling her into the night, and Ellowyn collapsed forward, heaving, her chest raw and burning. She sucked in lungfuls of cold air, but her throat was thick with dirt, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Tears stung her eyes, mixing with the grime streaking her face, but she barely registered them. Her body ached, screaming in protest, but she was too exhausted to care.

The night stretched wide and endless before her, the sky a canvas of black and silver. The ground beneath her was damp, clinging to her like it wanted to pull her back under. A tremor wracked through her limbs, sharp and violent, but she pressed her hands to the soil, grounding herself.

Sound filtered in slowly, distant and disjointed—the whisper of wind through brittle grass, the eerie hush of the graveyard. Then, the steady, rhythmic pounding of hooves.

She turned her head sluggishly, vision still blurred from the suffocating dark. A shadow peeled itself from the night, a figure on horseback emerging beneath the pale glow of the moon. The rider approached, their silhouette stark against the endless sprawl of tombstones.

Ellowyn barely moved, barely breathed. She watched, her body drained, her mind sluggish. The figure dismounted, boots scuffing against the earth as they stepped toward her.

A voice, smooth and familiar, cut through the quiet. “Go on.”

The words slithered through the cold air, sinking into her bones like a command she couldn’t refuse.

Ellowyn shuddered, biting down hard on her lip in a weak attempt to summon warmth. Her body protested every movement, but she pushed forward, inching toward the figure. Crawling. Her fingers found the fabric of his trousers, clinging to them as if grounding herself in something real. She rested her cheek against the damp ground, chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

As her vision steadied, the graveyard took shape around her, bathed in moonlight’s quiet glow. The tombstones stood like sentinels, names and dates carved deep by time’s unforgiving hands. A towering statue of Onereh loomed at the center, its stone visage unyielding, surrounded by the flickering dance of candlelight. The scent of melted wax and damp earth clung to the air, mingling with the faint trace of decay.

Above her, the man shifted, his boots grinding against the soil. “Get up.”

Ellowyn exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes toward the heavens before shutting them tight. Every muscle ached, every limb felt leaden, but she willed herself to move. Slowly, painfully, she pushed herself upright, her body trembling under the weight of exhaustion.

She stood before him, raw and hollow, the taste of dirt still thick on her tongue. Her breath was uneven, her vision still unfocused, but she met his gaze head-on, refusing to falter.

She was alive. Again.

⸙͎۪۫ Wanted to share a small snippet from when Ellowyn crawls out of her grave.

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I used to get stuck in the endless cycle of plotting, worrying about pacing, structure, and word count. Writing started to feel more like a chore than the creative escape it once was. That’s when I decided to ditch the stress and try something new—a method I now call The Eight Chapter Method.

It’s something I came up with after struggling to finish projects. I told myself: “What if I wrote the entire book in just eight chapters?” No strict structure. No perfect pacing. Just pure, messy storytelling.

𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖊’𝖘 𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝖎𝖙 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖐𝖘:

💡 I cram the whole book—plot, character arcs, major moments, and even some dialogue—into eight chapters. It’s rushed, chaotic, and beautifully imperfect. But it works. I don’t worry about word count or whether everything flows seamlessly. I just write.

Once those eight chapters are done, I go back with a clearer view of the story. That’s when I start breaking down the chapters, expanding scenes, smoothing transitions, and cutting what doesn’t fit. It’s like having a rough sketch before painting the final picture.

𝑾𝒉𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆?

✍️ It keeps the excitement alive.

⏳ I don’t get bogged down by perfectionism.

📖 I see the whole story faster, making revisions less overwhelming.

I’m not sure if anyone else works this way, but it’s been a game-changer for me. If you’ve ever struggled with finishing drafts, I can’t recommend this enough. Just write the heart of your story, and worry about the rest later.🫀

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created simple and cute moodboards for my projects.

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writeblr feels so dead🥲

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FOR ANY WRITERS OR THOSE WHO LIKE GOTHIC LITERATURE

I found this. It's basically a huge list of how to write in a gothic horror-like style. It gives you words to use, and what types of adjectives to put down, and it explains them rather than just giving you a list too. I hope someone beyond myself finds this useful because holy shit am I going to use this tool

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love daydreaming✨️🤌