#Substack for Writers

[mehmetyildizmelbourne-blog]

Free December Gift for Freelance Writers

Creating a Plan and Strategy to Boost Your Newsletters A Free Video and Audio Book Presentation of Substack Mastery Book for Your Enjoyment Dear Subscribers, Happy December! I hope this post finds you well. This month is very busy for me as I am helping our editors, updating all submission guidelines, and creating a new onboarding pack for 2025.  I will publish it soon as so many new writers…

[malusokay]

What's the point of a diary if you're not lying in it?

On Anaïs Nin, literary self-mythologizing, and why personal writing should always be slightly dishonest. (from my substack)

If you’re not lying in your diary, you’re just journaling, and journaling is for people who don’t know how to edit.

A diary is not a record of events; it is an act of creation. The best diarists know this instinctively. Anaïs Nin knew it better than anyone. Her diaries were not mere confessions but performances, half-lit mirrors where the truth shimmered, distorted but no less real.

Nin understood that life is not lived in a single register. Her diaries are a study in contradiction—one moment, she is in love; the next, repulsed. She is independent yet wholly consumed by those around her. But contradiction isn’t falsehood; it’s literature. She rewrote and edited her diaries, sculpting herself into the character she wanted to be. And is that really so dishonest?

People love to be outraged by the idea of a diary that is not entirely factual. But fact is not the same as truth. Diaries, at their best, are emotional truths, shaped by mood, by desire, by the need to impose a narrative on the chaos of daily life. Nin was not interested in being objective—she was interested in being immortal. She once wrote, “We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection.” But why stop at tasting? Why not rewrite, reshape, embellish? If we can curate the lives we present to others, why should we not do the same for the versions of ourselves we leave behind?

Nin herself was a master of this. She edited her diaries before publication, removing, refining, turning herself into a protagonist. She blurred lines, shifted timelines, made herself more alluring. She called it shaping reality. Others call it lying. The truth, of course, is that all personal writing is selective. Even in confession, there is curation.

The danger, of course, is that history will take the performance at face value. That the diary, once private, will harden into biography. But this, too, is a kind of truth. A diary is not a static object. It lives, it breathes, it deceives, but always in service of something larger than the mundane details of existence.

[theoverstimulated]

"You might think that because you’ve had COVID-19 and lived through it that repeat infections will impact you similarly, but “reinfections aren't harmless. As cases continue to rise and more variants arrive on the scene, infectious-disease experts are warning that repeat infections could have cumulative, lasting effects.”

...If you want to maintain your current level of health and avoid potential damage to your body & organs (up to and including your brain & your heart) and/or want to live as long as possible, taking precautions to prevent COVID-19 infections is crucial."

[official-trainwrecks]

HEY, YOU. Are you a fan of Friends, Community, or Heartbreaker? Do you love romance/romantic plotlines? Do enemies-to-lovers and will-they-won't-they scenarios keep you on the edge of your seat? Are you starving for more diversity and mental health rep?

Then you should read Trainwrecks, a FREE online serial following the lives of six Seattle-adjacent best friends from 2004-2015!

Meet the Cast!

Art by mangomangoj on Instagram.

Luna Cruz: (15) A nerdy and artistic girl who's had enough of being bullied about her weight. Her dream is to become a fashion designer. Or an ASL interpreter. Or both!

Dimitri Hale: (20) The most charming genius-turned-bag-boy you'll ever meet. He likes alcohol a little too much, but better booze than heroin, is he right??

Sebastian Velasquez: (17) The only thing keeping Seb from a life of debauchery is his best friend Dimitri, who he happens to have a crush on. Singing, dancing, and playing the guitar are his hobbies.

Jasmine Nolan: (17) Jasmine had the baddest reputation in her high school until she met Jesus. Now He's forgiven her, but she's having an awfully hard time forgiving herself.

Duke Kingston: (15) Duke might be one of the best friends you'll ever have! But if you're a bully, he's going to beat the shit out of you. No questions asked.

Victoria Hale: (15) Victoria's just moved to the U.S. from London, and she has her sights set on Juilliard. Beware her ADHD rage: She can go from 0 to throwing furniture in seconds.

About the Series

Trainwrecks: Season 1 (2004-2005) is now complete on Substack, and Trainwrecks: Season 2 (2005-2006) premieres March 3, 2025! Each week, subscribers receive both a narrative chapter and a social media chapter in their email inboxes. This entire story is free to read, but paid subscribers will receive four pieces of bonus content a month!

Curious about the characters? You can browse this blog or follow the link in the bio to the official website for bios, Spotify playlists, and more information!

Thanks for reading!

[notbecauseofvictories]

I would say 98% of the time, I think of a partner as a "nice to have." Like a cleaning service, or takeout, or sending dirty clothes out to get them laundered---you can get through your life without it, and I do think sometimes people use it as a band-aid for deeper problems. That's not to say that things like partners/cleaning services/takeout/laundry aren't wonderful, positive additions to your life! Just that you don't actually need these things to....you know, live.

....but that remaining 2% of the time? My apartment feels very big and empty.

[detailstodiefor]

The Dragon and the Simorgh

A short story I posted on Substack exploring the parallels between Celtic and Zoroastrian fire festivals through these two mythological creatures

[rissareee]

there’s something so special and so scary about putting your writing out for the public to read. i feel so exposed but also so mysterious & cool yk???

[ieppiq]

COPPER HOME RELEASED

Itch.io Exclusive. Minimum Price: $1.00 | Suggested: $2.00 *All sales will be reinvested both in my University Tax and into my Self-Publishing Fund. Huge thanks in advance for viewing or buying and downloading the Copper Home PDF file!

IF YOU RUN INTO ANY ISSUES, PLEASE NOTIFY ME, PLEASE.

And here's a Funfact on this project:

Only Text Version At My KO-FI Shop, Priced: $0.22

Also! If the price page gives you trouble changing the suggested price to the minimum: delete until it shows $0.00, write $0.001000 and backspace, then enter to move on to the next page /or/:

tagging a bunch of folks (no pressure to interact): @moremysteriesthantragedies , @pluttskutt , @druidx , @cheerfulmelancholies , @talesofsorrowandofruin , @ettawritesnstudies , @faelanvance , @dustylovelyrun ,

@deerwright , @aalinaaaaaa , @chauceryfairytales , @surroundedbypearls , @soupy8lowfish , @misswriteress

[soulmaking]

from orchid woman summer

[a-lady-and-her-quill]

𝘏𝘦𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 🌺,

𝘚𝘰 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘚𝘶𝘣𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘵. 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵.

[eightyonekilograms]

It feels like there's a thousand times as much cultural criticism as... culture.

[fknserenitymaxx1ng]

my holy trinity~

[malusokay]

Our Brains Are Rotting and Cicero Knew

On distraction, decline, and the intellectual rot Cicero saw coming. (from my substack)

O tempora, o mores—Cicero’s lament still echoes, like a parent sighing at their kid for putting the milk back in the fridge empty. He hurled those words into a world that thought it was collapsing, but honestly, Rome didn’t even know what real rot was yet. Cicero stood in the Senate, cloaked in self-righteous fury (as only Cicero could), accusing the guilty and clutching at virtues that were slipping through his fingers. “Iniquissima haec bellorum condicio est: prospera omnes sibi vindicant, adversa uni imputantur,” he said—history is cruel, always ready to share the credit for triumphs but quick to pin failure on a scapegoat. And oh, how disappointed he’d be to know his words, once etched in fire, are now buried in scrollable trivia, nestled between TikTok trends and threads about the dying sourdough starters.

Our rot is quieter and more subtle, almost polite, like water slowly ruining the foundation of a house no one even lives in anymore. It doesn’t come with swords or collapsing senates, but with screens. Flickering, endless screens. A thousand voices all talking at once until it’s just static, white noise buzzing in your brain. The kicker? We hold the wisdom of entire empires in our sweaty little hands, every speech, every scroll, every fragment of brilliance painstakingly saved by people who didn’t even have plumbing—and we just let it rot beneath algorithmic garbage. We traded Lucretius for lip-syncs, ars est celare artem for captions written by bots.

And Cicero? Poor Cicero, who believed so fiercely in the res publica, in the duty to preserve both morality and intellect—he’d probably choke on his wine to see us not just distracted but actively sabotaging ourselves. “Nescire autem quid ante quam natus sis acciderit, id est semper esse puerum,” he warned, because ignorance of history is the fastest way to stay a child forever. And, well, here we are: eternal toddlers in the nursery of civilization, sucking on the pacifier of whatever mindless content the algorithm spits out next. We’re not just lost; we’re willingly staying lost. It’s almost impressive.

Yet we think we’re clever. That’s the worst part. We think we’ve outsmarted the ancients, with our steady diet of soundbites and videos, each one shorter and dumber than the last. Meanwhile, Cicero would be rolling his eyes so hard they’d get stuck. “Legum servi sumus, ut liberi esse possimus,” he’d remind us—slaves to the rules we create, but these aren’t the rules of a republic. They’re the rules of a distraction economy. We call it freedom, but it’s more like gilded captivity. Every thought reduced to a trend, every story a fifteen-second flicker. What freedom is that? It’s like decorating your prison cell with fairy lights and pretending it’s cosy.

The rot isn’t just in the content. It’s in the way we approach it, like tourists in a museum, glancing at the masterpieces but never stopping long enough to feel their weight. We skim the Iliad, marvelling at its age but missing its fire, its warnings, its unbearable humanity. We quote the poets but only because it sounds sharp on a tote bag, not because we understand the exhaustion behind it. The ancients fought for words like these, polished them with the desperation of people who knew empires could crumble at any moment. And what do we do? We scroll right past, looking for something quicker, easier, something that sparkles.

We are exactly the people Cicero feared: writing tweets no one will read, building monuments to vanity instead of virtue, shrugging off the weight of history for the cheap thrill of now. The ancients taught us better. They polished their words like marble, made them heavy and sharp, meant to outlast empires. But we’re just tossing them aside to chase the next shiny thing. It’s not that we don’t know better—it’s that we don’t care.

And so, our brains rot. Not from hunger, but from excess. From too much noise, too much fluff, too much everything. The cry of O tempora, o mores isn’t dead, but it’s definitely hoarse. And the worst part? We’ve stopped listening. We don’t even notice the silence.

thank you for joining me on my little 4 AM Cicero brain-rot spiral. Usually, things like this stay buried in my notes, but where’s the fun in that, right? Lots of love, Malu <3

[adannamdi]

What I’m Dealing With Right Now: A Writer's Plea for Understanding and Empathy

Recently, I made a comment online—just one—that suggested something simple but real: that not every writer can afford to pay for custom artwork, especially those of us from underrepresented or economically strained backgrounds. I meant no harm. I only meant to express a truth many of us face daily.

But instead of dialogue, I was met with insults.

I was accused of sounding like AI. My education, intelligence, and intentions were ridiculed. Even after I shared my lived experience and made it clear that I wasn’t devaluing artists, just pointing out economic constraints, I was mocked, dismissed, and even stalked to my profile where more violence was exhibited.

And when I asked for solutions—a way we could collaborate, bridge the gap, and build a fairer system—I was silenced again.

This… this was disheartening.

I thought we were a creative community, one meant to uplift, educate, and challenge one another with kindness and open minds. A space where artists, writers, and thinkers—regardless of race, location, or income—could learn from each other and push the industry forward.

Instead, I was reminded that bias and elitism still thrive—even in the creative space.

But I’m not discouraged.

This experience lit something in me. I do have a solution in mind—one that could support both young writers and artists alike—but I’ll share it in due time. For now, I just want you to hear this:

If you’ve ever felt overlooked, underfunded, underrepresented, or told that your voice didn’t matter because you couldn’t “pay your way” into the industry—I see you.

We deserve to dream, too.

And if you believe in real solutions over shame, in access over gatekeeping, and in compassion over cancellation, I invite you to follow, subscribe, and stay tuned.

Because we’re going to build something stronger—together.

With resolve,

Ada Nnamdi

The Igbo Observer

[thelycian]

⊹Open Call⊹

The Lycian's submissions remain open 24/7 for writing submissions on our Substack blog. Submissions for our first issue will open soon so stay posted! We look forward to reading your pieces.

⊹Link in Bio⊹

[sensualterrors]

✥ SINNERS REVIEW ✥ snippet:

[spoiler free]

✥ “This is a movie about music and the outsized, beautiful, devilish role it can play in your life. Most people center their summary of Sinners on the outlaw twins, Smoke and Stack, who have mysteriously traded life in the big city (Chicago) for their old haunt of Mississippi once more.

✥ I immediately took note of how the events of Sinners occurs in the Delta region — known to many Black people, especially Southern Black folks, as the birthplace of sorts for blues music — think legends such as Muddy Waters and Charley Patton, who is mentioned offhand in Sinners.

✥ As a hoodoo practitioner, I took note of the setting because oldheads, Southern scholars, folklorists and real blues fans also know that the Mississippi Delta is a nexus of paranormal activity.

✥ Legend has it that Blues guitarist Robert Johnson — a contemporary of Son House and Patton and Muddy Waters — sold his soul to the devil at the crossroads in Clarksdale, Mississippi.”

🩸 READ MORE HERE 🩸