How can I know if it's book worthy?

Is it ok to market myself as both LBGTQ fiction and lesbian romance/LGBTQ romance? I see myself writing more romance novels as I go on but I just finished a book where the main story is not all about the romance of two of the main characters although it’s a large part of it. I think it’s more under a genre of LBGTQ fiction. The ending for their love story is happy too. I just don’t want readers to be disappointed if I publish this one and then continue to write romance. This book was different for me, I needed a lot of information about that time period since I didn’t live in that time and about the place my characters live. I took a lot of time for research before I even set down to write it. But nonetheless with everything I seem to write there’s always a love story in there even if it seems to be a subplot it’s still very prominent and blooming throughout the story. It’s just placed inside of a bigger plot, there’s something bigger going on in my story.

Im currently writing my first book and its based off a DND campaign that I wrote. Im wanting to what the rules are in terms of copyright. My campaign that the book is a bout takes place in Middle earth aka the same world that the hobbit and lord of the rings take place in. Im NOT going to be using any characters from the hobbit or lord of the rings but I am using the map and locations. please help.

The Sun and The Moon exist within each of us. At once, The Sun wakes up, and stares intently at everything around him. Disallowing himself even a single blink, he is fascinated, mesmerized, and falls in love with the cosmos. He is content with just observing all of the beautiful cosmos in which he is surrounded. He has been given the most wonderful gift of all, to be able to see. Contained within such colour, movement and grace, he feels as though his existence could never be dampened so long as he gets to continue to watch... He is so captivated by all of the ongoing drama of the space around him that eons pass by him, and yet, he does not feel a single moment... his attention is unwavering. As he continues to watch his eyesight grows stronger, more acute, and he begins to notice things in such detail that they start to look different as they once did. He feels as though they are going to start changing before his very eye. Just as this feeling arises he notices a flicker from the corner of his eye! Some kind of minute movement unlike anything he had ever before perceived. He turns every last wisp of his attention towards the movement, and as he does so, it vanishes. The Sun is immediately filled with a new and profound curiosity. He waits, and waits and waits, for something like this to happen again... he waits, and waits and waits. Patiently he scours his familiar surroundings in search of that glimpse he was certain he had seen. Alas, he waits and nothing changes. The Sun begins to grow frustrated with the After an ineffable amount of time has passed him by he begins to take a keen interest in a small Planet, one of many which he watches dance around him, some hundred thousand miles away. He begins to spends most of his time observing this rock, in particular, as to have changing colours and patterns unlike any of the other parts of the surrounding galaxy. As he continues to watch this Planet the rate at which it changes begins to grow, and grow, and as it does so, the Sun's interest and excitement about the Planet continues to heighten. He stops giving so much attention to the rest of the cosmos and starts focusing himself only on this small Planet. He is intrigued by the Planet's abi As he continues to observe this small rock Until one day, he begins to notice something strange... something unfamiliar, unlike anything he has ever seen before... the tiniest of movements, the most peculiar of phenomena, something from the corner of his eye that steals his attention away from the rest of the surrounding galaxy and draws it all toward one The Sun and The Moon exist within each of us. The Sun desperately calls out for attention, but is destined to an existence in which he cannot receive it. He stares intently at the life below him, and eventually, he realizes that it his eye, and his eye alone, that is generating the light rays The solar rays he creates are too powerful, too blinding, and so he is destined to a life of perpetual giving, as he can see that the light he has been gifted is what keeps all of th so the energy he gives off keeps us all alive, but never can those he loves bare witness to his true form without causing themselves harm. The moon hears the cries of the sun, and, with her one big eye, she shows the sun that she can stare directly into him and not be burned... She is capable of staring directly at him without being burned. The Moon hears his sorrow, uses her body as a way to show the suns creations his true beauty... but she can only do this in the dark of night, for that is the only time her body can be seen...

Thinking of picking up writing this year but can't seem to find writing groups that are active?

Well, come join us at The Midnight Faith, a 3-year-old holistic community that includes published authors, writers looking to improve, artists and consumers of all things dark and creepy. And if you're planning on smashing out your Nanowrimo goals this 2024, there's no better place for horror writers.

I would love to personally invite you to join our thriving community and be an active part of something great and welcoming.

We host monthly and weekly writing challenges, a wide array of artists who share their art with the community, helping each other in feedback while making friends.

Self-promotion is allowed.

We discuss all things that lean towards the dark side of reality, so 18+ is recommended.

Link to our community: https://discord.gg/dAjwkDRG3Y

We hope to see you soon.

N.O.

Hello! I'm Nashira, co-founder of the digital art collective Poetry Orchard. We facilitate online creative writing workshops as well as open mics for anyone to perform their work.

I thought this might be appropriate to share here because our last few workshops have seen quite a few newbie poets, including poets who had never shared their work with others before being in our space, which makes my heart grow ten sizes!

I would like to invite the lovely writers here to our next workshop inspired by the deeply unique bond between pets & their humans on Sunday, January 21 @ 10 AM EST / 3 PM GMT. Even if you do not have a pet of your own, you're welcome to attend!

There are 2 free tickets available that no one has claimed yet, so I would like to extend the invitation to anyone who has never written poetry or shared poems before. Our workshops are open to every type of writer because our space is a generative space - that is, there will be no critiques - the point is to create something new!

We will read poems relating to the theme, hold a group discussion making meaning of the selected work, hold a brief writing time guided by unique prompts, and then everyone is invited to share their piece and read it aloud if they wish.

It's a great space to make new poetry friends online as well. I hope to see you there! Good luck with your writing, everyone!

Hey everyone. Happy new year!

2023 threw up a lot of twists and turns with the likes of AI and I know lots of my writer friends have concerns. So I decided to put this survey together to give everyone the chance to express their thoughts, feelings and perspectives.

The aim is to compile all of the results into a report which I'll publish on my site and share with media outlets and industry publications to highlight the issues you all raise.

And as a thank you for taking part, everyone who completes the form will enter into a draw for a £50 gift voucher for the brilliant Broken Binding. You can use it to buy books both beautiful and signed by authors!

The form is only short and won't take more than 60 seconds to complete > https://forms.gle/Vsx54qTu9AXX8gRu7

Thank you!

https://preview.redd.it/grfswmej13ac1.png?width=1166&format=png&auto=webp&s=234593c310124b4ad8443223ccd2d8594d2a6be4

Comic Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1vmXSit_N2FN7UHJdZtZursUCsudEQ58-/view?usp=drive_link

From the imaginative mind of Ecosapiens co-founder, acclaimed sculptor, and animator, Garret Kane, comes the world's first climate comic, ‘Leosapien’. Dive into the captivating saga of Leo, a being created through the fusion of synthetic biology, nanotechnology, and machine intelligence, purposed with a singular mission: the guardianship of forests and wildlife.

The Leosapien stands as a unique entity amongst the eclectic assembly of Ecosapiens, having been created to serve as a protector and guardian. Possessing preternatural sensory abilities, agility, recovery, camouflage, and speed, the Leosapien patrols the vast forests of Africa. Its presence sends tremors of fear through those who seek to harm the environment or engage in wildlife poaching, occasionally escalating to direct confrontation and intervention to preserve the ecological balance.

Conceived as part of a larger, intricate universe and narrative, Leosapien marks the commencement of a series of individual profiles, each spotlighting the diverse stories, capabilities, and personalities of various Ecosapiens. These profiles aim to delve deep into the essence of each Ecosapien, exploring their unique roles and contributions to the world they inhabit.

Let us know any feedback you may have!

The cold dampness of the cave chills me to my core. The silence is deafening, even a feather dropping would echo throughout this cave. My torch had long gone out, and now I wander blindly, the path forward lit only by my will and faith. My armor chatters and clanks as I maneuver over and around rocks and stone, constantly tripping. Soon however I find the first sign, a flat stone wall nestled in a far off corner. I feel around, hoping to find the markings of dwarves, and I do, my fingers tracing their intricate and blocky art style. I pull the pick off my back, and swing. Chunks of stone chip off and I swing again and again. I swing until the faintest light of a lamp shines through. It's blinding at first, my eyes having become accustomed to the eternal darkness. I soon, with the aid of the light, create a hole large enough for me to fit myself through. Inside I find myself in a storage room, the shelves stocked with dried and rotted food. A layer of dust covers everything like a dirty sheet, even moving an inch fills my lungs with the stuff.

"I wish there was any water, I am dreadfully thirsty" I think to myself. I push on however, grabbing the lamp as I make my way through the door. It's a dwarven lamp, and an eternal one too. They are powered by magic some say. Others credits the dwarves master craftmanship in the creation of these. Whatever the case, it lights my way as I wander through the cramped halls. These halls were made for dwarves, not men nor a man of my size for that matter. Soon however I find myself in a great hall of tables and chairs, filed with cups, plates, flagons and tableware. Everything still covered in the layer of dust as before. As I enter the hall, I am amazed at the height of the ceiling. A giant could stretch his arms out in here it seems, and thinking of the space I stretch as well, the tightness of the hallways hurts my back. I wander through the dinner hall, amazed at its size and complexity. A grand table sits at the farthest end, above the others on a platform of seemingly gold and jewels. Giant pillars of carved stone support the roof and the massive stores of food that sit in lofts above the tables.

"I must continue on, the village needs the water. My family needs water." I say aloud before recoiling at the sheer echo this halls returns to my ears. So I continue on through another hallway to my left, forcing me to once again crouch down and subjugate my back to more pain. As I wall along I pass by a sign with many markings upon it, one of which looks like a waterfall. The dwarves never did move past a primitive form of preserving knowledge, meaning markings mean what they look like most of the time. And so I follow where the waterfall symbol leads me, the markings continue along the wall as it gets increasingly blue in tint. I am eventually met with a large stone door that is sealed shut, but there is a large cutout where I can see an iron bar that looks to be holding it closed. Walking over, I can hear the faint sound of gears and water on the other side. I pull the iron bar out of the adjacent wall and push hard on the door, it slowly opening as stone grinds against stone.

Inside the room I am blasted will the brightness of the sun, my skin feels hot and my eye's become useless grapes for a moment. When I finally recover, I look around at my surroundings. I am in a long tunnel where a large river runs from a far out place I cannot see to the exit on my right, but there is a hole just before the opening where the water flows down into. As I walk over and peer down the chasm, my armor being misted, I hear a faint grumble off in the distance from where the river runs from. The chasm is long and dark, but I can see a large water wheel at the bottom, and as I search around more, I see a large lever in a cut out near the entrance where I came from. I walk over and pull it, and soon after a large rumbling shakes the tunnel. Slowly, a stone slab slowly covers the chasm where the water runs, stopping with a large thunk. The river now runs out the exit, hopefully running towards the village.

"I have done it!" I shout in excitement, before running over and removing my helmet at the river. Kneeling down and staring at the clear water, I cup my hands and drink until I cannot drink anymore. Laying back and putting my helmet on once more, I sit and stare out at the landscape. It is quite beautiful, the green trees, the blue sky, the amber grain in the distance. This one moment of peace is interrupted by a deafening roar and the heat of fire. It comes from where the river runs, and I barely make it into the door before I am scorched. I collapse and huddle on the ground, hiding from the flames. I sit there and wait, but no more flames come, instead all I find is cool stone and a unending fear of what might be approaching my home. I scramble up and rush back through the hallways and halls once more until I reach the cave. Now lit with the dwarven lamp, I find the exit quick and sprint out, the sunlight again piercing my vision. I pay this no mind and sprint toward the village, pulling a wooden doll from my satchel and hugging it tight.

"I'll protect you, no matter what comes." I whisper in my mind, my only thought of my wife and daughter back home.

...

Smoke and fire. Fire and smoke. That is what I am met to when I return home. Homes collapse and char, animals run around screaming as their fur is set alight. I stumble and stagger through the streets, the heat washing over me as smoke and soot fill my lungs. My vision goes blurry and twisted, and I do not know how long I run through those fiery streets, calling out my family's names. I do know when I ran out of the village and collapsed onto the grass, retching and crying at the same time. I crawled around and pleaded with whoever would listen, I tore out my hair and I clawed at the grass in my hopelessness. I seemingly felt every emotion at once except for joy, for there was no joy left in me after that day. I sat there and cried, cried until I could not anymore. I stared at the now charred doll and the still burning village, my only home now alight in a wave of fire. And when all hope seemed lost, a little girl walked out of the flames. She walked over to me and sat next to me. It was my daughter, and she was undamaged by the flames. I couldn't react at first, my mind in shock and grief. I eventually broke out of it when she put her hand in mine, but when I turned to hold her close, she was not there. 

She was never there.

I am a DM for a game that’s heavily RPed heavy, I am planning on making it more then just that cause It grew on me. I need help from people that know more then me and even small discussions with friends and family with random questions helped me A TON.

My world is based on our world at 2031, the internet is gone and everything connected with it because a powerful AI virus that tried to take over internet and world wide nations turned servers off and disabled or destroyed everything. At 2000 (it started 1990s but it was more rare) a phenomenon occurred making kids being birthed 1/10.000 to be birthed with a power that could be deadly for themselves or extremely powerful, people don’t have two powers or above and just one.

Power examples (powers are quite weak and relate to the series “The boys” and “the X men”) Super strength: no endurance or resilience so lifting heavy could break your bones or just kill you by pressure Super speed: no stamina so you can have a heart attack Super hearing: without any additional help you might lose it by going near to a house party exploding your ear drums Etc etc

The powers come up without really a pattern, they can come up with time or immediately after birth

Questions:

How would fashion develop with powers or without internet ?

How would people communicate through distance without internet or mobile phones that haven’t been invented lately?

How would car companies/ car manufacturers wouldn’t change or not change their business/technology?

How would some random stuff or professions change ?

I want people to be creative and figure out their own powers and add them to their answers, all powers have the following characteristics -are in some way explained with chemistry/biology/physics -they mostly could kill the owner of the power -the grimiest the better -most powers could be used or helped with medical treatment or medical care (hearing aid for super hearing to adjust the level, etc)

Examples of the type of answers I would like to get:

Super power: super hearing (listening to all the frequencies) it’s not an uncommon power but it’s not very strong to most people, only able to hear a bit more then normal -a new music genre that plays music to lower or higher frequencies that give a whole new world view since it enriches the people’s brain with art like music (the main creator of this music can hear all frequencies and acts like he is under bliss whenever listening to the music)

I will attach some random first draft for powers that may give ideas :

• Blood thicken (Bone marrow growth making blood red and flow less
• Cell Activation (Restores and Heals slightly)
• Density Control on self only (2-10 times) (effects weight)
• Detachable limb
• Eat Anything (stomach acid)
• echolocation (in closed rooms)
• Elasticity skin (rubber like body with not much stretching)
• Empathy (Detects emotions)
• enchanced Masseter (Able to bite at 100kg force)
• Explosive breathing (the gas explodes if it gets in contact with fire)
• extra Adrenal glands (Unable to feel stress or shock)
• Fire/lighting/poison creation (no resistance)
• Floating (lighter then air)
• Force fields self-3 meters (small objects powerful pass it)
• Frequency Voice (Changing frequencies)
• Genius-level intellect 200-250 IQ
• Hair groath (furr and hair or facial hair)
• Healing (Transporting cells from you to others healing wounds)
• Heat vision (burns eyes too) (most users get transplants or become blind)
• Human tourch (No resistance to it/slowly dying)
• invisibility under strobe effect from lights
• Invulnerability (high firepower-small bomb)
• Liquification (turning body to water but don't control it)
• Longevity (live forever)
• Magnetism (become a magnet negtive or positive)
• melanin Alteration (shades of human on body)
• Memories to spychic blast (small bomb damage) he forgets it
• Mind control (Only sway not change
• multiplying the size of a body part (Dazy because of blood and skin reaping)
• mutated lungs could allow for deep diving beyond human capabilities, or could allow resistance for really cold wind/snow/whatever high up
• Pain Infliction (upon touch causing physical pain)
• photosynthesis
• Poison ressistance
• rapid growth (nails to claws, callouses when and where needed, hard to fight when your hair is suddenly in your eyes)
• and more

Hello all,

I'm still in the process of wiring this online novel. and seeking feedback if I should continue or stop.

Any feedback would be appreciated.

Thank you,

https://www.webnovel.com/book/lost-in-florence_27995806900773405

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/let-it-be-a-good-life-meighan-klippenstein/1144286080

Hello all!

I have just self published my first poetry book. I would so appreciate any and all shares, purchases, and general support! The writing community is so wonderful. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Meighan

Leosapien ISSUE #1

From the imaginative mind of Ecosapiens co-founder, acclaimed sculptor, and animator, Garret Kane, comes the words first climate comic, ‘Leosapien Issue 1’. Dive into the captivating saga of Leo, a being created through the fusion of synthetic biology, nanotechnology, and machine intelligence, purposed with a singular mission: the guardianship of forests and wildlife. In the riveting inaugural issue, armed with his heightened senses - from unparalleled auditory and olfactory capabilities to extraordinary vision and magnetic field detection - Leosapien uncovers the footprint of a vast organization, embarking on a quest to halt their destruction.

Read here: https://ipfs.io/ipfs/QmVxU65RJmgjU5kLdMRXXr7M57Rc4EQYpUjdPDQUmk3som/Ultra_Rare.pdf

Growing up I heard many stories of demons and angels as I grew up in a very religious household. But that is not relevant to my first encounter with a demon. I am an uber driver so I often bring young kids home from the bar on a late friday night. This was like every other stop that I have had as an uber driver. I pulled up outside of a popular nightclub and my client opened the passenger side door. It was odd that he sat upfront. Most people just get in the back. His ride was a bit farther than the normal distance that I liked to travel but it was close to my home and it was almost 3AM so I was about done for the night. After he got in I started to head towards his destination roughly 31m away. I typically like to make small talk with my passengers and I looked in his direction and noticed that he was dressed very formally for your typical night club kid. He was probably around 27 and 6ft 3in. And his face seemed to be quite handsome. So in an attempt to start some small talk I asked him.

“So did you have a good night Kyle?” I got his name from Uber when I picked him up.

“Not terrible I got what I needed but hoped that I would receive more” He said in a deep but very reassuring voice. I don't know how to describe this but it felt very trustworthy. Similar to a fatherly like tone.

“How has your night been? Had any interesting encounters tonight?” He said.

“No not for me” I replied showing him my wedding ring “18 years happy and counting” I responded.

He waited for a moment and said “Is that really true? Did you not cheat on your wife Samantha 3 years ago after a fight that you had about money because she lost her job?”

I looked at the GPS and it said 26m. “I am not sure what you are talking about” I replied with a stern tone in my voice. I increased the volume of the music on my steering wheel. This was not possible. I must just be hearing things since it was so late, no one knows that I had an affair and it was a mistake. He must have just had a really good guess I thought.

“Would it cause you despair if she found out?” He said

“There would be nothing to find out because that didn't happen and we are happy.” I replied.

“True It wouldn't make much of a difference because she has been aware since early last year. Stephanie works at the new firm that she works at. I never understood how humans forgive each other for such betrayal a truly despicable quality”

We hit a stop light and I slammed on the breaks and exclaimed loudly.

“Who the fuck are you! What do you want from me!” Visibly angry at this time. Glancing at the GPS 18m Until arrival. The man took a moment to straighten himself in his seat after the sudden stop.

“Please refrain from outbursts of anger. I have no use for anger, what I am interested in is your sins.” He said almost sounding annoyed. Like he was supposed to be the one that was annoyed in this situation.

“So then what do you want, what do I have to give you to leave me and my family alone” I said.

He smiled a large smile “I do not want anything from you. I would much prefer to make a deal instead if you are interested?” He said.

“It doesn't feel like I have much choice. What kind of deal do you want.” I glanced at the time 11m until arrival.

“What I want is your sins” He said with a slur like a snake.

“You want my sins? What does that even mean? You want me to confess to you like some kind of priest?” I replied only getting angrier.

“Quite the opposite actually. I would like you to commit sins in my name and I will reward you equivalently to the sin that you have committed how does that sound”

I checked the time, 3m left. I just wanted this crazy man out of my car at this point and just wanted to keep him talking so that I could drop him off and head home.

“Uh, ya, sure can you give me the rest of the details and I will give you all of my sins” I said in an overly dramatic tone.

The man smiled ear to ear. “Great! This makes my night a good night sir. If you accept please take my card and keep it with you as you commit your sins. It would be even better if you say my name as it is printed on the card when you do it. I will visit you again next year at this time to collect. I should also mention If I return and I am not satisfied with what you have to offer me I will take something else as payment and never visit you again.

I then pulled up to the location that he requested to be dropped off at. It was just an old 24h diner just off the highway.

“Ya sure kyle were here so get out” I said

“Wonderful!” He said as he placed a card on my seat as he got out and I peeled out of there.

The next year was rather difficult for me. I hit a man with my car by accident, killing him. I then became quite the alcoholic and this affected my marriage. My wife and I had another fight and I ended up spending the night at a hotel with a lady of the night. I stepped outside the hotel for a smoke. Another bad habit that I had picked up along the way. I lit my cigarette and took a puff when I heard a familiar voice.

“Absolutely marvelous my new attendant of sin. I truly did not expect products such as this from you!” Kyle said in an almost overjoyed tone.

“Manslaughter, infidelity, addiction and neglect! I never imagined that you would produce such fruits! For such miraculous contributions to myself I will grant you 3 rewards. What can I do for you in return for such quality sins!”

I stumbled back, almost dropping my cigarette. What the hell? How? What?

“What, what, are you doing here! How did you find me! What are you talking about” I yelled.

“Why, whatever do you mean? It is 3:31AM on the same day as the last as I said I would return. I am here to collect and reward just as I promised. A demon never goes back on his word. Now tell me what it is that you wish for in reward as part of our deal.” He replied.

“Wait, you're a demon?” I said.

“Indeed I am, Specifically a demon that is in need of sins and you are going to give me some quite valuable sins. Now what would you like as your reward so that I may collect your sins”

“Wait hold up what do you mean? I never kept you card shit I almost completely forgot about you, Just leave me alone and get away from me.” I yelled at him

He then looked down at the ground and I felt very uneasy. Even though he was standing several parking spaces away from me I felt very unsafe.

“Do you remember what I told you would happen If you did not fulfill your end of our arrangement? And you did keep my card. It has been in your car this entire time you never got rid of it and that means that you accepted our deal. The very car that you committed these very sins. I will take from you the equivalent of what I am owed today if you do not agree.”

I started to speak but he began to walk towards me and cut me off.

“Have you ever heard the human saying do not write checks that you can not cash?”

He was standing right infront of me now and looked me in the eyes. I could see his eyes were pitch black consuming any light that was around them.

“I will ask you once more, do you wish to select your payment or would you rather I take mine!” He said this in a deep below that sent shivers down my spine. I stumbled back and almost pissed myself. He was very serious. I was terrified of him and I had no Idea what he was going to do. So I screamed.

“Yes! Yes! But I don't know what I want, please just leave me alone!”

Kyle then calmed a bit. Spoke in a much calmer tone.

“Well you do have great sins to offer but since you bear such fruit I can't exactly just let you go. The sins you will produce in the future are worth much more to me than that. I can also not influence your decision. You must make it and my patience is wearing thin.”

Thinking fast I just blurted out what came to my mind as I was terrified and just wanted him to leave his eyes, his eyes! I swear to you that they were the most unnatural thing that I had ever seen. Like he had black holes where his eyes should be.

So I just said the first three things that came to my mind. “Money! Safety! And Health! Now please just go!”

Kyle smiled and his eyes went back to normal.

“Very well. I will grant you money, safety and health in exchange for your sins. Please let this be easier next year.”

I then blinked and I woke up in my bed at home with my wife. The demon kept true to his words. No one remembered the sins that I committed that the demon had taken from me that night. Everyone forgot about the man that I hit with my car. I felt no need to drink or smoke. My Wife forgot all about the fight that we had the other night.

He also made true his “rewards” as he called them. That same day a bank account with $10 million in it was opened in my name. My body became athletic and I probably lost 65 lbs overnight. I was in sheer awe at everything that had happened. I fell down the stairs that morning because I was too bewildered to realize that I had missed a step. When I hit the bottom and got back up I felt no pain, not even a bruise.

Kyle or his real name that I came to learn later Kalsifer. Would visit me every year to collect my sins and make them as if they never happened, and would then reward me for it. It has been almost 55 years since I met Kalsifer in the passenger seat of my Uber. I have committed many sins in his name. I have yet to disappoint him yet and I do not want to find out what happens If I do. But the one thing that I know for sure. Once you make a deal with the devil there is no turning back; all of these deals are eternal. I have now lived over a hundred years. My wife died 8 years ago. I am getting old again and I will no longer request youth as a gift from Kalcifer. At first I thought this was a great deal I could do anything with no consequences. But year after year he continues to take my sins and slowly taken my emotions along with it. I will continue to fulfill my end of this deal until I die. I no longer wish to live. There is no point because without knowing Kalcifer took something that I didn't know I even had. The ability to make mistakes in my life is almost completely without consequence. I no longer even know what the difference between right and wrong is. There is no point to anything anymore.

Demons will take things you didn't even know that you had to lose. Never make a deal with a demon; you never know what they really take in return.

Good morning/afternoon to all,

Let me start by saying I love reading. I'm a submariner in the US Navy, and trust me, down there you find a lot of time to read. Since I was in high school, I've also dabbled in writing my own stories but never managed to follow through for one reason or another. I am committed to finishing this latest thing I started writing, even if it comes out as absolute hot trash. I'm looking for a few people to share my plan and work so far. I don't quite want to post it to a large forum just yet so I can sort through feedback from a few people efficiently. I apologize if this is not the proper posting location for this request. Please steer me in the right direction if needed. As I said, I'm essentially Reddit-illiterate.

Hello!! I help run a group on Discord. We write, voice, and edit videos. We are all volunteers so there's no stress on how much or how little you want to work with us. Here's our YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/@TheGuildofSnails And this is our discord. My name is Nathanael and I am one of the owners so feel free to ask me any questions you want! https://discord.gg/symqMngrpF

A boy recalls his story of getting mind-reading abilities and his relationship with the darkness.

https://www.xtales.net/2020/06/why-i-prefer-dark.html

Title: The first onion seed

Genre: Utopian, Sci Fi

Status: just a general plot, ready to be adopted.

Preface: About 15 years ago, when Facebook was still in its infancy, and we didn't have smartphones and self-driving cars, I came up with an idea for what I feel would be a great book. I'm a software developer by trade, and writing has never really been my thing, but I'd love to see if someone out there would be interested in developing this further. Also, apologies in advance for my bad English, it's not my native language. Any feedback is more than welcome.

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The opening scenes are set in the year 2074, where only a billion people roam around the Earth, while everyone else lives their virtual lives connected to The Onion, submerged in their little pods "Matrix-style". These people traded their physicality for longevity and provide, through their bodies, the energy needed to run the system [in other words, what if Morpheus was wrong about The Matrix?]. The seeds (this is the name associated with those people in the pods) can live up to 200 years, and can interact with people in the real world through a Neuralink interface [The Peripheral, new show on Amazon]. The book/movie, though, would tell the story of how humankind got there.

Flashback to 2034, where we find Eve, a young woman living her life as college student somewhere in Italy, where she moved from the United States after being awarded a full scholarship to study the ancient history of that Country. Everything seems normal about her life, her friends, her internship. Then one night, while she is riding her Vespa to go home, she gets into a bad accident. And yet, the morning after, the alarm next to her bed starts blasting some Italian music, and she wakes up like nothing happened, ready to start her day again, and not remembering anything about the accident.

A couple of weeks later, something similar happens again, and once again she wakes up the day after like in a videogame where the character gets respawn without a scratch. But she has a feeling that something is off, and even her friends act differently this time around. This is when the audience finds out that Eva is actually in a coma after a bad car accident. Her parents are two brilliant neuroscientists, who are conducting a research on bringing coma patients back to life by connecting them to a machine they invented, The Onion. As they do not want to accept to lose their daughter forever, they decide to connect her to this supercomputer.

Just like modern AI, this supercomputer has learned from the vast human knowledge on social media and the internet in general, and is capable of recreating virtual worlds full of people with their own personalities, capable of interacting with Eva in an uncannily natural way. The Onion interacts with Eva's brain and "tricks it" into thinking that those electrical signals are indeed coming from her body.

So they manage to tap into Eva's subconscious, and they want to help her re-establish that link with reality that was severed because of the accident, by recreating a virtual world that is an exact replica of the one she lived in a few months before the accident. However, her brain keeps thinking about the car accident, and that's why it continues to create a "reality" where her life ends that way. And every time that happens, her parents reset the system and let her "play" again, hoping that one day she will find her way out and wake up for real.

Of course love is what, in the end, gets Eva to finally wake up. In the Onion, she meets Enrico, a funny extrovert Italian young man who has a passion for life in general. He has a bubbly personality, tons of friends, and of course loves to tell Eva about his crazy adventures around the world. But Enrico doesn't really exist... and this is another part of the story that I haven't fully developed yet. Many movies have inspired me on how to expand on this interaction between a human and a machine [Her, just to name one].

The "bad guy" in this story is the CEO of the company where the two neuroscientists work, who sees the hidden potential this technology can have. This part I haven't really figured out though.

Once Eva wakes up, the Onion becomes widely popular. Unlike many dystopian novels where technology is always seen as the enemy to destroy, here it's used for good, to escape famine and other calamities caused by the excessive use of natural resources.

What do you think?

Hello I’m 25 and I’ve always loved reading and I want to learn how to write fictional fantasy novels. I have never written before and was wondering if anyone could share resources on how to learn free or not.

The windows of the twelfth floor were a blurry mess, smeared with a milky-like film that made Tipper curse under his breathe. Dangling by a single rope anchored to the roof, he clicked his tongue in disgust at the sorry state of the glass. The last bloke to clean the panes had done a shoddy job. He had a bucket of warm water, vinegar, and detergent attached to his harness, along with a few other tools of his trade. Grabbing a rag from the bucket, he started rubbing away the grime with rough, practiced stokes.

Grabbing his squeegee - next to his cutlass - Tipper wiped off the excess cleaner, produced a fresh rag, and polished the window till it sparkled like new. Grinning at his reflection, Tipper felt satisfied with his work.

A gunshot filled the air. “Damn it!” Flint cried.

Tipper spun on his rope and glanced down. The wind tugged at his navy blue reefer jacket, dirty and worn, layered over a black, knit turtleneck sweater. The one ocean rolled gently beneath him. Deep blue water as far as the eye could see. Small waves and currents gently rocked the fifteen story apartment complex. Near the buildship, a red buoy floated in the water marked with two bullet holes. Neither of them belonged to Flint.

“That’s ten pieces, mate,” Tipper said. “Unless you wanna go again? Double or nothin’?”

“No way. My guns busted. Can’t shoot straight,” grumbled Flint.

Tipper swung over to Flint, snatched the Walther P99 from his hands, and took aim as he dangled well over a hundred feet above open water. He fired three quick shots. All three hit their mark. Flint’s jaw hung open. Tossing the gun back to Flint, the man fumbled it and almost dropped it into the waters below.

“You streaky son of a -”

“We’ll call it twenty pieces,” said Tipper, chuckling. “Now get back to work, mate. Can’t have Landlord Sable steerin’ this thing blind.”

Flint grumbled as he worked his squeegee across the window, “Don’t matter anyways.”

“What’s that now?”

“Yer shootin’. It don’t matter how good you are. When’s the last time Waterfront has seen some real action?”

“Watch yer tongue out here on the Lass, lad,” Tipper warned, flicking his squeegee clean. “She might just give you what ye be askin’ for.” Flint was young, maybe twelve. He had been in a few battles so far, and still yearned for the thrill and action.

Then again, so did Tipper.

He was different than other window washers, though. Many got burnt out by the job, and he couldn’t blame them. It was a hard life to stomach. Dangling by a rope hundreds of feet over a merciless ocean day in and day out. It took a strong resolve, especially knowing that you were the first line of defence if the buildship needed protection.

“Maybe we should hope she does,” Flint replied. “I ain't just itching for a fight. How long we been gone now, Tipper? We’re runnin’ low on supplies - food, water. Seems like everything’s harder and harder to come by these days.”

“Mate, don’t worry about it. We’ll be hittin’ the Peaks in a month’s time for a resupply. Landlord Sable’s got it all sorted. Let them do the worrying.” Tipper was content to leave the worrying to others. Things tended to find a way of working themselves out. Flint’s slow pace with the squeegee irritated him, though. “Get a move on with that squeegee, or I’ll have to remind you how straight my gun shoots.”

From the crows nest - the roof of the buildship - speakers sounded a low, jarring alarm. It pulsed urgently, echoing across the Lass. Tipper felt a rush of excitement, but he sighed theatrically. “You’ve done it now, Flint. You’ve got the Lass’ attention.”

Tipper leaned back against the windows, bracing himself with his feet on a thin metal ledge protruding from the wall. He reached into his reefer jacket and pulled out a flask, taking a swig of brandy before scanning the horizon. It didn’t take long for him to spot the source of the alarm. After another swig of brandy, he replaced the flask. “Mid-rise. Residential. Five or six stories. Seven at most.”

“Pirates?” Flint earlier eagerness had vanished, replaced with trepidation.

Tipper hesitated before answering. “Well…yes. But remember, we’re pirates.”

“Their buildship be no match for Waterfront. Half our size, they are. Could they really be lookin’ to attack us?”

Three sharp blasts came from the distance, the sound echoing ominously. Tipper translated. “They want us to stop and hold position.”

“Why?”

“Why do ye think, matey? They want to be gettin’ to know us better and participate in open and fair trade.” His sarcasm was thick as sea fog.

“Really?” Flint asked.

“Nay. Pass me the hand cannon and be grateful it ain't Blacktower approachin’.” Tipper took the hand cannon and poured powder down its barrel before dropping in a metal ball about the size of his fist. He tamped it down and began taking aim. The mid-rise was still out of the weapons range. Various other window washers positioned around the buildship were doing the same, their partners readying matches to fire the hand cannons. The approaching buildship had its own window washers ready, dangling precariously on the walls of the mid-rise.

“Alright, get ready kid. Just do what I say and you you’ll get through this,” Tipper reassured Flint. He quickly added, “Probably. Maybe.” Flint’s look of anxious annoyance made Tipper laugh.

Waterfront’s windows slid open as gunners readied cannons. Waterfront let out a series of long, screeching howls. If the approaching buildship continued to approach, Waterfront would open fire. The mid-rise did not slow.

The deafening boom of cannons filled Tipper’s ears as Waterfront began to barrage the mid-rise. The mid-rise returned fire with cannons of its own, though it only had two. Both buildships were relatively small and incredibly maneuverable making it hard to land a solid hit with a cannon. Waterfront avoided avoided being hit completely, but was only able to graze the mid-rise at best. As usual, the battle would not be won be artillery. It would be won by window washers.

“Don’t fire until I tell ye, mate,” Tipper said, his voice low and urgent. “We don’t wanna blow our load too early.”

The mid-rise crept closer into range of the hand cannons - a little less than two thousand feet - and window washers began to fire. Window washers on both buildships began to fire the hand cannons, sending thunderous volleys across the Lass. The mid-rise’s shots smashed against the reinforced windows of Waterfront, leaving nothing but a few cracks at most. Tipper heard the screams of a window washer above him. Looking up, a window washer had met a grisly fate. A gaping hole in his chest, blood dripped down onto freshly cleaned windows.

Thankfully, the mid-rise had flimsy windows. They shattered into a million pieces and rained down like daggers, piercing hapless window washers below. The Lass was littered with shattered glass and blood.

Flint’s hand shook as he reached for the match to fire the hand cannon. “Not yet,” Tipper snarled.

“But -”

“Not yet, ye streaky bastard! We only got one shot at this, we can’t be wastin’ it. By the time we reload, we’ll be needin’ pistols.” Flint paled at the thought.

Two ballistas affixed to the mid-rise’s crows nest each fired thick, metal spears attached to dozens of ropes. One spear bounced off the side of Waterfront, scarring the glass and severing the ropes of a few window washers. They smashed into the sides of Waterfront as they fell and crashed into the Lass. The other spear, however, shattered a weakened section of glass and embedded itself deep within the buildship. Window washers on the mid-rise scurried like rats, climbing and traversing the buildship in a mad dash towards the ropes that connected the two vessels.

The thunderous boom of Waterfront’s gatling gun sounded as it spewed out hot lead, shredding through the walls of the mid-rise. Several window washers were picked off, their bodies dangling and swaying to and fro.

“Now?” Flint asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

“Almost, matey.”

A few of the mid-rise’s window washers finally reached the ropes bridging the buildships. Removing their harnesses, they began to shimmy across the ropes.

“Now!” Tipper bellowed.

Flint jolted, taken aback by the suddenness of the command. But he obeyed, striking the match and placing it to the hand cannons touchhole. Tipper braced himself against the windows to avoid being tossed around. He let out a shot that tore through three mid-rise window washers, shattering a nearby window. Glass shards flew everywhere, causing some of the window washers to falter and slip. They hung on for dear life, their harnesses saving them, before struggling to start climbing again.

Tipper gazed up to Waterfront’s top floor, were the spear had embedded itself. “Quick, follow me and bring your squeegee,” he shouted to Flint.

Tipper started climbing Waterfront, using nothing but thin, slick, metal beams for grip. He leapt and grabbed onto whatever he could, barely touching the buildship’s surface at times, catching his weight on his fingertips. The rope was there to catch him in case he fell, but he had been climbing Waterfront for as long as he could remember. He did not need the rope. In no time, he had climbed up to the crows nest and removed his harness.

Flint struggled to keep up, but Tipper didn’t wait for him. He reached into the blue sash worn around his shoulder and pulled out his prized possession - a Peacemaker, a Colt Single Action Army with a seven and a half inch barrel. Tipper had to cock the hammer back every time he fired, but that was exactly how he liked it. It made him feel like he had to choose his shots wisely.

Holding it near his hip in one hand, his other hand across his body and hovering over the hammer, Tipper fired six rapid shots. Six window washers on the ropes from the mid-rise tumbled down into the Lass. The belt holding his cutlass and squeegee was lined with bullets. Tipper took some bullets lining his belt and reloaded the Colt before slipping it back into his sash. Flint pulled himself up onto the crows nest just then.

“Get your squeegee out and follow me,” Tipper ordered Flint without waiting for the kid to catch his breathe. He gestured to one of the ropes connecting the two buildships. “This is the one we take.”

“What do you -” Flint’s sentence was cut short as Tipper leapt off the side of Waterfront. Falling through the air, Tipper held his squeegee above him and latched it onto the rope. The rope angled downwards towards the smaller buildship and Tipper slid down it, gaining speed. Bullets whizzed by him, but none found their mark. The rope was a battleground with several opposing window washers trying to cross it. Tipper kicked out, his boots connecting with the tops of heads. Window washers toppled from the rope like dominoes.

Tipper landed on the mid-rise’s crow nest, hitting the ground in a crouch. Tipper caught a few window washers stationed there off guard. Landing right beside one, he sprang up, slamming the handle of this squeegee into the washer’s chin before smashing it into their forehead. With a kick to their chest, Tipper sent the washer overboard.

Another washer charged from behind with a cutlass raised high. Tipper spun, baggy black pants and reefer jacket billowing in the ocean breeze. With a flick of his squeegee, the wet sponge sprayed droplets into the washer’s eyes. The washer recoiled, swiping at their eyes as Tipper drew his cutlass and cut them down.

But Flint wasn’t as lucky. He came hurtling down the rope, screaming like a banshee, and landed in a heap on the crows nest. As he tried to rise, he looked more embarrassed than anything else before a bullet found its mark between his eyes. Flint fell backward off the mid-rise, lifeless.

Aye, that’s just how it be on the Lass, Tipper thought. He had his gun drawn and a bullet in the washer that gunned Flint down before the man had a chance to turn his gun on Tipper. Window washers might be crucial to a buildship, but they were as disposable as the barnacles on its hull.

With a cutlass in one hand and a Colt in the other, Tipper led the charge as more Waterfront washers poured onto the mid-rise. The mid-rise’s forces crumbled quickly under their assault, and Tipper could feel the excitement of victory building. Now it was time for looting and pillaging. The mid-rise would be stripped of anything deemed valuable. The men would be left aboard the mid-rise, left to perish without supplies or working parts. Many of the women would be taken back to Waterfront - a crude practice, but necessary to combat inbreeding with the small populations buildships contained.

For him, though, the excitement faded. The fight was over. For Tipper, the real prize was in the battle itself. As other washers swarmed around him, grabbing anything and everything that Landlord Sable had deemed fair game, Tipper took stock of the spoils. Crucial tools, supplies, water, and food had to be left where they were found. Tipper managed to make his way to the mid-rise’s storeroom - a crude wooden attachment on the back of the buildship.

It’s almost empty, Tipper thought. And the other washers haven’t collected much either. He looked around the buildship, taking in the sorry state of things. It wasn’t just rundown - it was downright decrepit. If he had to guess, he’d say the buildship was barely able to stay afloat. And if he examined the mid-rise’s crew more closely, he wouldn’t be surprised to find they were in a similar state.

He heard footsteps approaching from behind him. “Thomas Thatch. Ye seem to always cross my path.”

Tipper spun on his heel and gave Landlord Marie Sable and exaggerated bow. “Aye, m’lord. I reckon it’s ‘cause I ain't dead yet.”

Sable smiled slyly, dressed in a long, blue canvas jacked with shiny brass buttons over a white vest. Her hair was tucked under a tight knit cap. There was a large scar running across her cheek leading to where her nose used to be.

Her first mate, the thin and brooding Barnaby Black stood by her side, scowling as always. “Hands off the food, washer. We need to account for it first,” he said.

“I wasn’t touchin’ nothin’, Barnaby. Calm yer nerves. Ain't much for me to take anyways.”

Barnaby hesitated to admit that supplies aboard the mid-rise were insufficient, and Sable sighed. “That explains why they attacked Waterfront. They had nothing to lose. They were probably ready to pillage the first buildship they came across. Hell…it could have been a seascraper and they still might have gone for it. They were more desperate than you after a few drinks, Barnaby. Has Robin checked out the fuel reserves yet?”

“Yes. They are…insufficient.”

Tipper shrugged. “We should make it to the Peaks in about a month. We’ll be fine.”

Sable shook here head. She had a reputation for being a fierce pirate Landlord, ruthless and intelligent. But she cared for her crew, treating them with respect and honesty. “We’re already cuttin’ it tight as is, and we can’t take anything back to Waterfront today. There’s not enough to go around. If we fall behind schedule, we’ll be wishin’ we found more aboard this mid-rise. The Lass has been rough on everyone these days. And Thomas…we’re low on everything. Ammunition included. Lay off any unnecessary shootin’.” Sable.

“The Lass is a crafty one,” Tipper agreed. He wouldn’t have it any other way. “But I blame those seascrapers. Streaky, greedy bastards.”

Tipper made to leave the storeroom and brushed by Barnaby. “But I have faith m’lord Sable and her first mate will see us through this storm. What do I know, though? I’m just a window washer.”

What's going on guys? My name is Jack, and I'm building a business that centers around fiction stories.

It's a unique premise, so I don't want to reveal all my ideas, but if any of you are looking to write on a regular basis for work, let me know. Just shoot me a DM or reply here in the comments. I'd love to do a call and get to know you, and hopefully we can try to work something out.

Keep it up you guys, you're all doing great! Let's bring back reading to the mainstream! Our work should be appreciated!

I started writing short stories centered around the Southern Gothic genre a year or so ago after graduating law school. I was born and raised in Northwest Georgia, and I have a real passion for the area. I started a YouTube channel reading the short stories I have written. I would appreciate your comments and criticism. I want to a better writer, and I want to be published in the long run. Feel free to subscribe to get regular updates and uploads, but I am really looking for serious and sincere advice and feedback on what I have written so far.

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCAzvgu7uPXoP7dmsuqXLf0Q

Thank you all for your help.

More info and updates here r/TextAdventureSocial If you are interested in this project let me know by joining so that I keep working on it.

Skinner stepped through the glass revolving door which was lined with gold. The main lobby a blinding white, the floors were marble, which reflected the fluorescent lighting against their polished surface, with large obelisks raising to the large barrelled ceiling, the only colour coming from the unoccupied dark leather chairs and mahogany coffee tables which lined the walls. It’s a shame, Martin can have all the money in the city and he still can’t afford a sense of subtlety Skinner thought, as he shielded his eyes, making his way across to the large oval stone desk which was placed in the centre of the room. A young girl stood behind it, her blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail with two strands framing each side of her face. A smile spread across her lips as she noticed Skinner approaching, but did not reach her eyes.

“Good evening, Sir” her voice was flat, like a school teacher reading from a register “Is there anything I can assist with? I can call you a taxi perhaps?”

Skinner leant against the desk, resting his forehead across his folded arms. “You can tell Mr. Roth that he has a visitor, and it’s been a long day so if you could get me a coffee whilst I wait that would also be most appreciated.”

“Sir, if you would like to raise a complaint about your residency, you will need to raise the issue with the building manager. Mr. Roth doesn’t have the time for such… minor issues.”

Skinner raised his head, locking eyes with the receptionist. Unfortunately, with all the money in the city it also seemed Martin couldn’t afford to hire staff with any customer service skills.

“Listen love, my issues are far from minor” Skinner reached into his tattered breast pocket, producing a small golden pin. A hammer within a skyscraper, the key to city “And he always has time for family. I’d hate to admit it, but it’s his one redeeming quality.”

The fake smile disappeared from the girls face, the blood drained from her face so that her skin matched the rest of the room.

“My apologies, Sir. I will let Mr. Roth know you are waiting. If you would like to seat, I will bring you your drink over shortly.”

Skinner walked over to the far left corner of the room, the only spot which was directly under any lighting, and fell into an arm chair. The seat was harder than he had expected. Surely one of Martin’s ingenious ways of letting guests know they weren’t welcome and to remind employees that they weren’t being paid to relax. He closed his eyes and began to doze. He felt a light tap on his shoulder followed by a quick shake. As Skinner opened his eyes, he was blinded by the light of the room, a sharp pain pierced his brain like a bullet. How anyone worked here without gauging their own eyes out was a mystery. The receptionist knelt in front of Skinner, the artificial smile had returned to her face. She passed over a small plastic card.

“Mr. Roth is able to see you know. Simply insert that into the reader for the elevator and you will be taken straight to him. I hope you enjoy your visit at Roth Construction Limited.” She explained returning the desk.

Skinner stood, his muscles tight, he stretched his back, which was accompanied by several small pops. A mug sat on the table beside him. The black liquid inside looked more like tar than anything which could be safely consumed by a human being. Still, it would be rude to let it go to waste after he had asked for it. He reached down, the mug was cold, clearly it had been sat there for a while. He lifted the drink to his lips and downed the strange liquid down in one. The bitterness caused his eyes to water as his throat fought against whatever he had just swallowed. He sat the cup down on the table, rubbing his throat as he walked towards the elevator and inserted the key card into the small slot in the wall. The silver doors opened up to reveal a fully glass interior, held together to golden rods. The glass box dipped under his weight as he stepped in. There were no buttons to choose a floor, rather the doors simply closed and he began to descend.