#AuthorsOfTumblr

[allthetropes]

tiny baby writers make me so happy. like yes!! you are doing the word thing! the same word thing that I did at your age! you're making the same punctuation mistakes! the same stunted dialogue! the same genuinely terrible titles! all of the best is ahead of you and you have so much to look forward to!! and you get to have fun in the meantime!? you go tiny baby writers!!

[trueknights]

A Wizards Calling, by True Lady Knights ID:

There's a roughness in my hand, I look into dark murky waters.

I do not think the magic has left me, how easily a pencil because a sword in calloused finger unused to fighting.

How keen my eyes are as they gauge the water, it's murky depths unknown to humans of this age, waiting eagerly for a pale hand to gift me Excalibur.

I listen for Merlin's words on the wisps of wind, through the tendrils of ancient tongues, gold pulsating through my veins and dancing within.

I do not think the magic has left me, dormant and siphoned though it may be.

I do not believe it has not abandoned us, it lingers amongst, it's essence clings like dust to ancient books.

What force wills your pen to write, your heart to beat and pump? What passion ignites your will, what passion drives quill.

Seize it for it is yours, seize it because it is ours. We plain clothed wizards have forgotten our spells. Yet still, we are here, living amongst the world.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Announcing "Convincing Tumblr To Read My Followers' Books" Event! Submit Your Story Synopsis here!

Exciting news! I'm so thrilled to announce the launch of my latest event: "Convincing Tumblr To Read My Followers' Books." This is your chance to shine as a writer and gain exposure for your works-in-progress (WIPs) or published books.

Here's how it works: You, my talented followers, are invited to submit your story synopses and descriptions using the prompts provided below and inside the google form. Whether you're an aspiring author with a captivating WIP or a seasoned writer with a published masterpiece, this event is for you!

Once submitted, your stories synopsis and details will be featured right here on my Tumblr blog page. This platform provides you with the opportunity to showcase your creativity and connect with readers and fellow writers from all corners of the internet. It's the perfect chance to gain followers, receive feedback, and expand your audience.

But that's not all! As readers, you'll have the chance to explore a treasure trove of literary gems. Dive into intriguing synopses, discover new voices, and immerse yourself in captivating narratives crafted by your fellow Tumblr users.

Here are some of the prompts for submission:

Title of your book

Brief synopsis or description

What inspired you to write this book?

Main themes explored in your book

Genre(s) of your book

This event isn't just about promoting your work—it's about celebrating the power of storytelling and fostering a supportive community of writers and readers.

Submit your stories using the prompts in the google form. Fill it out and join us in "Convincing Tumblr To Read My Followers' Books." Let's make magic happen, one story at a time!

Happy Writing - Rin T.

[megumimind]

Remember to take the time to thank your favorite authors on here. Even if it's a small "hey thanks for this" or "hey, your fic made me smile". They don't have to write these fics and they damn sure don't have to put them out for free. But they do and they make our days brighter with every fic. So thank you authors for all that you do. ❤️

[annawatson2321]

The Power of Voice: Why Turning Your Book into an Audiobook Can Amplify Your Story

In the vast ocean of storytelling, each wave brings a unique tale to the shore. As authors, you hold the power to shape these waves, and one transformative way to do so is by converting your written words into the vivid soundscape of an audiobook. The journey from page to audio is not just a change in format—it's an expansion of your story's reach and impact.

The Intimacy of Audio: When readers become listeners, they experience your story through the intimate medium of voice. A well-narrated audiobook creates a direct, personal connection, as if the characters themselves are whispering their secrets. This closeness can turn casual listeners into devoted fans.

Reach a Diverse Audience: Not everyone has the time or ability to sit down with a book. Audiobooks cater to busy commuters, visually impaired readers, and those who simply enjoy absorbing stories through listening. By transforming your book into an audiobook, you open your world to people who might never have discovered it otherwise.

Enhance Emotional Depth: The human voice carries nuances that text alone cannot. Fear, joy, sorrow, and humor come alive in the inflections and rhythms of speech. A narrator can breathe life into your characters, making emotional scenes more poignant and humorous moments more infectious.

Stand Out in a Crowded Market: While the shelves are crowded, the audiobook market still offers room for growth. By venturing into audio, you distinguish your work and show that you are adaptable and forward-thinking—qualities that resonate with publishers and readers alike.

Long-Term Benefits: Audiobooks continue to gain popularity, and their shelf life extends beyond initial release buzz. They are often revisited, shared, and cherished over time, providing a steady stream of royalties and lasting connections with your audience.

So, how do you start? Begin by choosing the right narrator—someone who understands and embodies the spirit of your book. Collaborate with audio professionals to ensure quality production. And most importantly, share your audiobook journey with your audience through updates, snippets, and behind-the-scenes insights.

Remember, every voice has a story, and every story deserves to be heard. Turn your book into an audiobook and let your words echo in the hearts of listeners around the world.

Embrace the sonic adventure, and let your story resonate in new, profound ways.

[courtneyandbooks]

The struggle

Y'all, I'm doing my best to write these characters and they are tearing my heart to bits. I need to hold them😭 HALP

[authorrmbrown]

The devil is in the details and I'm his pet

The thing that takes me the longest in writing isn't drafting, or revising, or plotting, or characterisation - it's fighting my own urge to make everything mean something.

I'm filling in gaps in my world-building right now in preparation for book 2, part of which involves sussing out an accurate timeline of wider historical events and attaching years to them. It's all well and good being able to say 'This happened 200 years before that happened' but when it comes down to specifics, god forbid I just choose a date and move on.

Song of the Stag takes place in the year 1441 of my world because the Battle of Bannockburn took place in 1314 and the Scottish independence referendum took place in 2014 and 1441 is the number 14 forwards and backwards. The legendary Queen Asha of Afren is crowned in the year 922 because 9 represents the end of a cycle and 2 represents balance, and I thought there ought to be two 2s.

No, but it gets worse. As of the beginning of Song of the Stag, the epoch for the calendar of the Talasaire (a magic-wielding community that lives in nature) happened 7,368 years ago. Why? Because firstly, 7 is a magic number. Secondly, the Groves that the Talasaire live in were based on the vibes of the Stonehenge Festival Campsite. And the first time I went to Stonehenge for the summer solstice was 21st (2+1=3) June (6) 2017 (1+7=8). Ergo, 7,368.

It makes NO sense. No one else knows or cares, but there's a goblin inside me that simply must ascribe meaning to everything. So if you check on me in three months and I'm not any further forward with book 2, this is why.

[patleclerc]

Do animal feel? Are we not animals? Excerpt from patleclerc.com/healing/ Art Changes Lives; patleclerc.com/book/

Illustration by @patleclerc_official

[cassassybitch]

My first self-published novel, The Autumn Effect is up now for kindle/epub pre-orders. Paperback copies available September 13th!

One brother holds her heart—one holds her life in peril.

In the quaint but mysterious town of Spindle River, Sadie is looking for a fresh start after a turbulent past. When the charismatic and wild hockey player Jamie waltzes into her life, she feels the spark she’s been longing for. But just as she falls for his captivating hazel eyes, she’s shocked to discover he has an identical twin, and she’s been inadvertently entangled in a love triangle she had no idea existed. Brendan, the introverted musician, stirs feelings in her that are equally intense yet confusing.

As romances bloom and Sadie’s heart wavers, ominous shadows lurk. Strange occurrences escalate into a chilling abduction attempt, leaving her feeling hunted in her own backyard.

With danger closing in, Jamie and Brendan vow to protect her, but when suspicions arise about one brother’s involvement in the threats, Sadie's trust is put to the test. Now, she must unravel the town’s dark secrets to expose the truth and protect her new home, even as she finds a startling supernatural heritage that intertwines with the peril stalking her.

Armed with her journalistic instincts, Sadie must navigate a web of betrayal and determine which brother she’s truly fallen for, and which may not be entirely human.

[austin-friars]

I'm about to slice this up and make it a nice mood board but omg, the prologue for my new wip

[jbodenauthor]

[cartersvilleareawriters]

CAW Term of the Week - Query Letter

[writers-republic]

📜 QUOTE OF THE DAY

"I kept always two books in my pocket, one to read, one to write in."

✏️ Robert Louis Stevenson

[xariaseesred]

Novel by Xaria Ryu

chapter one

GENESIS

Brief: In the opening chapter of 'Cursed Shores', we're introduced to a world brimming with challenges – a cityscape plagued by the consequences of unchecked super-powers. Keitaro, navigating a hazardous environment, seeks refuge in a bar, surrounded by a populace drowning their sorrows in a daily struggle for survival. As the night grows darker and the rain starts pouring mercilessly, we witness a mysterious encounter, a brief yet intense confrontation, and a glimpse into the Keitaro's internal struggles. We are then taken to a basement filled with aged books, where a complicated dynamic with Haruki, is explored. The chapter ends where stage is set, not with grandeur, but with a quiet intensity, inviting us to a world where survival is an art and secrets lurk in the shadows.

CHAPTER LIST:

chapter two: FLAME

Chapter starts below the break: keep reading! :)

Monsters, genetically modified plants trying to kill us all, abuse of power that leads to massacres and wars or incurable diseases, would all be perfectly good and logical reasons as to why I am plastered at a bar scanning for someone who might know a way off this island. The people here are nearly all understandably drunk out of their minds, none of them able to live their daily lives for longer than a work day. Children darting between tables without supervision, while lurking hazards stand poised to exploit even the slightest misstep. The place is loud, save for the moments when someone gets too reckless with their curse and gets dragged off the premises. The silence that washes over the room feels like a cold blade threatening to slit your throat. At least to anyone with something to hide. Once that is revealed, you can kiss this hell goodbye and welcome another one right after hours and hours of wishing you were never born. 

Gloves hide my curse, but my temper needs more than gloves to be concealed, and it is rising by the second. The alcohol stench and the soldiers posted up in every corner of the place are not helping. 

“Fresh meat, huh?” a velvety voice asks in a hushed tone standing next to me. 

“Walk along,” I nearly snarl, keeping my head down and not sparing them a glance. Whoever it is does not let up and slides closer to me, alcohol reeking off their person. 

“I know what you are,” they go on, voice sounding almost like purring now that we are standing shoulder to shoulder. With swift movements, I have spun them around, grabbed both their hands and pinned them behind their back under the bar’s edge so no unwanted eyes witness what just went down. It is a woman covered in rain protective gear looking a little younger than she sounded. Former military employee I would assume. No one else could get their hands on anything like that. Half my body covers hers and I tighten my grip around her wrists. 

“Eager to end up in jail I see,” she laughs. Drunk, I make out of her behavior. I will spare her the questioning and I tell her as much until I have convinced her that she is out of her mind. I let her go, leaving her giggling by the bar as I walk out into the neonate night. Cannot risk someone taking her seriously. I would rather have my trial that is barely two days away than get beaten to death in a jail cell. 

With no plan to ever return and risk my identity being outed, I make my way to a place I have learned to love and despise.

♦

The basement, crammed with thousands of books, exudes an icy chill between its shelves covering just a few square meters. I wish slamming the book shut in frustration was enough. Throwing it across the room would be a crime in here. Burning it up into ashes is out of the question, but painfully desired. You cannot win in this dreadful city, let alone the whole Island. Leaving is not an easy feat either. 

The flame dancing between my index finger and thumb, dies down gradually, turning a transparent pastel blue as it gets smaller and morphs into faint smoke. Rather than reigniting the flame, I allow the darkness to envelop me, accompanied by a deafening silence. I sit there by my miserable self until I hear indistinct footsteps grow louder and louder evoking a curse from deep in my chest. I don’t have the patience for this right now. I glance towards one of the shelves. It doesn’t take long for the inconvenience to step into my little corner and lean onto one of the coarse wooden shelves sporting a sad smile. Calling him an inconvenience is wrong on my part but not entirely untrue. I try too hard, way too often to avoid him only to have my night end like this. 

“You okay in there?” he asks after a heavy sigh. His tone is just light enough to come across as friendly. It has been a skill people have to learn to master around me since they know better than to step out of line with me. 

“I’ll need you to keep your mouth shut.” In the weak light that is seeping through the window from a street light, his staple black cap casts a dark shadow across his face at all times so all anyone ever sees is his mouth, which is now shaping a strained line in reaction to my words. 

“Always a ray of sunshine, yeah? I’ll need you to leave. Now.” Too pure for his own good. 

I am a walking hazard to these preserved books. I should in fact not be here in the first place, is what he should say. He is just too nice to say it. 

“Haruki…” I know it is nothing I can say that really helps my case but it is not like me to hold back what I truly feel around anyone either. Be it complaints or hateful remarks. There is not much on the good side of things around this one since his very existence has been a deep sorrow to endure dating back years. The only defense my brain seems to have against that is spite. 

“Light this candle, will you. Can’t see shit in here.” My body temperature and temperament is irregular as it is, but right now I can feel the blood sizzling far beyond its boiling point. He knows better than anyone that riling me up could have dire consequences. None that I will ever be proud of. That should also keep him away from me. Why he lets me stick around is beyond my ability to comprehend. Words do not suffice these days, but I’m willing to bet good fortune that unimaginably mean things would come out of my mouth to someone who’s never truly wronged me. 

After much inner turmoil I decide to light his candle. Haruki had started getting antsy as well, eyes glowing a terrifying dark red shining through the shadow as if ready to strike any second. People might think he is perfect but even he is not immune to impatience. 

“That’s not really your color, Ki,” I tell him under my breath, but still making sure I also don’t cross his boundaries. That nickname is one I gave him when we were just toddlers, playing in the tunnels under the city, both of us, along with a couple dozen other kids, having been strictly told to never show our faces on the surface until we were deemed ready. We were naive souls back then. Not our fault, but we could’ve never guessed what challenges awaited us. 

“What on earth did I do to get you actually talking, huh?” Fake smile or not, it could rival the sun in its brightness, teeth gleaming like the most expensive pearls. In the dim light of his candle the sharper angles of his youthful face get the spotlight. No wonder people idolize him the way they do. It’s almost aggravating how beautiful he is. Sometimes I think holding a grudge towards him for that reason would make more sense. That him always turning heads, getting what he wants all the time and people praising him for damn near everything is annoying enough. Him in his whole casual suit and tie get-up should be annoying enough.

“I’ll leave,” I exhale sharply before I make a fool of myself. While I grab my things I see Haruki’s eyes lose their color and disappear behind the shadow, his smile fading back into a strained line.

“Help me put these books back, Keitaro,” he utters firmly and I get the feeling that he could sense I did not want to be around him anymore. “Please?” The place is a mess and it is too late to argue with anyone at this hour.

I sort the books for him to the best of my ability, just to make it easier for him to put them back on the shelf. They are all old and torn. Most of them are missing pages, some have been found under water so the pages are uneven with the black words faded. Haruki finds this aspect of the library-keeping very intriguing. As illegal as it is for him to keep these books here in this region, he would protect them with his life and he has made that much unmistakably clear for me. He knows this place as well as his own bedroom. Down to every nook, secret passage and whatever people back then decided to hide within the books. Even theft is completely out of the question since he would know within a second if a thought like that appeared in someone’s head.

As we inch closer to being done with the books, my thoughts drift deeper into darker territory, further down memory lane and I once again see how close Haruki was to losing everything he ever held dear. Haruki senses the shift in my aura and makes the mistake of looking up and meeting my eyes. His now gleaming a concerned gray. The candle that he had set on the table lights up the rest of his face. Big innocent eyes asking questions I cannot answer and the burn mark I feared making an appearance from his temple down to his cheekbone. Still covered in angry, deep scars. The work of which I caused.

Until now, the anger I held earlier had started to subside. Now it awakened like a tiger held captive for too long, ready to kill anything that moves. I freeze for a second knowing that if it gets too intense, I am totally in the wrong place. I put the last book into Haruki’s cart to dart out of the library and into the night’s thunderstorm. Before Haruki gets completely out of earshot for me, I hear a barely audible “good night” as an overdue apology is stuck, heavy on my tongue. 

Heavy raindrops fall against my hair feeling cold everywhere it is parted as I make my way off the streets out toward the fields. The houses there are safer since these thunderstorms are constant. Sometimes accompanied with rain and sometimes not. They destroy more in a matter of minutes than what we can build in years, and that’s not to mention the relentless flooding this city goes through weekly. It has been like this for years and years so it is hard to remember what a normal day was like. 

As I approach the coast, a sense of unease washes over me like the tidal wave crashing against the shore. Something is different tonight, as if the air itself is charged with an electric energy that prickles my skin and sets my nerves on edge. It’s eerily quiet and in the distance I hear the whispers of patrol getting closer. Not a good sign.

And then, I see it.

Hovering above a small lonely piece of land on the horizon, a strange craft hangs suspended in the air like a phantom from another world glowing red. Its sleek contours are illuminated by the faint glow of the city lights, casting eerie shadows that dance across the water's surface.

My heart pounds in my chest as I watch in awe and terror, the sound of helicopters cutting through the air like a knife. With trembling hands, I raise my scope to get a better look, my breath catching in my throat as I witness the craft unleash three beams of light that stretch for miles in every direction.

I duck behind a nearby rock, my heart racing as adrenaline courses through my veins. This is no ordinary sighting; this is a warning, a sign that something far more sinister is at play.

As the echoes of the craft's arrival fade into the night, I know that I can no longer ignore the call to action. Whatever awaits me once I am away from this island, I must face it head-on, for the fate of my sister and those I hold dear hangs in the balance. But come hell or high water, I will not rest until I uncover the truth behind this mysterious intrusion and put an end to the chaos that threatens to consume us all...

>>> CHAPTER TWO <<<

[kentjstarrettofficial]

Hereby using 'spiny rats' as a slur for chupacabras in my book series, #TeenageWastelands

I just learned about spiny rats and they just look exactly like that sounds

[authorrmbrown]

Songs of the Stag track 8 ➡️ Land o the Leal, Grey Dogs & Kathryn Joseph

Image text:

Between the Separatists, the officers in the Queen’s Watch, and the regular citizens of Storran, there are a thousand shades of patriotism. To some, patriotism lies in acts of defiance, to others, it is steady maintenance of the status quo. I enjoyed playing with this idea in Song of the Stag through the concept of ‘lealtie’ (Scots, or Old Storrian, for ‘loyalty’). The Separatist battle cry is ‘Lealtie Ayebidin’, a declaration of eternal loyalty to their cause and their land. With a taste for irony, the Separatists call the Queen’s Watch soldiers ‘Lealists’, highlighting the soldier’s intense loyalty to a land that is not their own. Each of the characters in Song of the Stag are forced to reckon with what ‘lealtie’ means to them, and indeed, how far they are willing to go for it. The melancholic song ‘Land of the Leal’, which is about a woman’s dying words to her lover and promising to meet him in heaven, comes to mind for me when I think of a scene early in the novel where Cait faces the consequences choosing to be loyal to a certain side.

“Sae dear 's the joy was bought, John,

Sae free the battle fought, John,

That sinfu' man e'er brought

To the land o' the leal.”