What Are YOU Writing?

    What are you working on right now?

    Please share YOUR writing with us here at WTD.

    So what are you writing?

    A novel? A blog post? Your best article ever? A poem? A film script?

    Maybe you’ve just finished something you’re really proud of?

    Or you just can’t tell whether it should get a Pulitzer or be thrown into the trash?

    Here’s your chance to share and discuss with each other what you’re writing about.

    Whet our appetite with the opening paragraph of your future bestseller or give us a link to your best article.

    Tell us: what are you writing at the moment?

    Who knows, your piece might even attract the notice of a major publishing house!

    Here are some guidelines:

    Writers: Share Your Writing

    Tell us what aspect you’re working on. Or give us the link to an article or give us a snippet of fiction. I’d love to know what your challenges and joys are!


    * When commenting, first list everything you really like about a piece.
    * Only then offer careful suggestions.
    * Treat each other with respect, friendliness, caring, and honesty.
    * Remember that we are all still learning.

    Now it’s over to you. Take a deep breath. Then jump into the comment section and bring out your treasures!

    Note that your comment may not appear immediately because our spam checker tends to hold longer comments back for review.  We’ll go in regularly and release all comments.

    About the author:

    Mary Jaksch is Editor-in-Chief at Write to Done. Grab her FREE report, How to Write Like an A-List Blogger. Mary has helped thousands of students successfully create profitable blogs in the  A-List Blogging Masterclass, and is the blogger behind Goodlife ZEN.


    About the author

      Mary Jaksch

      Mary Jaksch is best known for her exceptional training for writers at WritetoDone.com and for her cutting-edge book, Youthful Aging Secrets. In her “spare” time, Mary is also the brains behind GoodlifeZEN.com, a Zen Master, a mother, and a 5th Degree Black Belt.

    • Jora Payton says:

      I’m working on a short story about a couple in a long distance relationship and how they finally meet each other. I just started it yesterday and already have almost 3 pages. When reading please keep in mind that I have never wrote anything before. This is all very new for me. Here’s is an excerpt. She sat waiting near the entrance area of the Dublin Airport. She was waiting for her boyfriend Niall to arrive. She had told him that her friends Gemma and Rylan were stopping over in Dublin and wanted to meet him. Thankfully her besties were kind enough to play along with her little ruse when he asked them about “their trip.” But little did he know she was about to give him the best surprise ever.

      Comments and advice greatly appreciated. When I finish it I will post it on my new blog. 🙂

    • Sean says:

      Well, I’m currently in the process of writing a short story – which*might* evolve into a novel, if i can maintain my creative spark, that is. Goes like this:

      “Jeff was a rather average person. Slender in physique with ordinary intelligence nothing about him stood out. Yet he had one thing that one would say others did not have. And he had it in spades. Courage. Where as others would rely on physical prowess or intellect, Jeff succeeded on will. To him there was little that he wouldn’t try…”

      So far I have a chapter done.

      The next one is gonna be work. >>_<< (short story or not!)

      • Kylie says:

        You have captured me! I want to know who this ordinary guy with not much going for him but sheer will is. Where he is going. What’s his story etc.
        characterisation is good so far 🙂 but that is all that is there. Without any other details its hard to give any other feedback.

    • I have nearly finished my fourth book. This one is “Out of my Depth” the history of 15 years as an Expat in Thailand working with deepwater rice, rice that survives in water from 50 cm deep to as much as four metres.

    • Debrah what issue of Glamour are the rules for the contest in?

    • I write the blog Acronyms With Kathy G, My latest post is OMG — It Makes Me Cringe. I have recently developed a pet peeve. Whenever I hear or read OMG, I cringe, (read more at http://www.acronymstoliveby.com)

    • Debra says:

      Currently I’m working on a 3000 word essay for a writing contest for Glamour Magazine. It’s due Nov 1st and I have the first draft done, working on editing and rewording….the theme is interesting and has me trying to figure out how to best write it as a story or nonfiction.

      • Debra If you’re not afraid of the competition, tell us what issue of glamour the rules of the contest are in == please!

    • coffee-max says:

      Hello. I am very happy to join your team. Open the conversation and new acquaintances.

    • I write a blog, mostly. I just finished a short post series about introversion that was fun and interesting to write.

    • Hey everyone! I’m currently working on my first novel, which is about a simple jungle boy who’s life is thrown into chaos when his sister is abducted by supernatural creatures. I also have a blog for this book that I am writing/editing and you can check it out at my website. Or if you have an Instagram, follow me at richiep3rry for more. Thanks!

    • I watched the Aspens turn today
      And witnessed nature’s majesty.
      Orange and gold replaced the leaves
      Of green, and leapt from tree to tree.

      The rising sun poked shafts of light
      Down through an emerald canopy.
      I lay beneath those dark scarred trunks
      Of white, and lounged in reverie.

      I watched the colors of Autumn
      Slowly replace where green should be.
      The hues revealed the steady march
      Of time, no more a mystery.

      Deep in that secret mountain glade
      The pigments were a potpourri.
      Above, I heard a rustling sound
      Of leaves, and something stirred in me.

      The leaves were changing, Fall was here,
      I felt the warmth of summer flee.
      Watching the Aspens turn I thought
      Of love, and gave my heart to thee.

      – KW Bunyap

    • Aside from assorted client work, I’m also writing blog posts related to the art of paying for all my overseas adventures with freelance writing (which I’ve been doing since 2013)::


    • Nirmala says:

      I’m a dedicated blogger and avid writer as well. I have been writing an in-depth blog post for my new technology niche blog.

      I enjoy writing the tech stuff. I usually do keyword research before crafting my blog posts.

    • I’m a copywriter with more experience, I conduct my blog theme tourism)

    • Thanks for this great and informative article, It’s very helpful for peoples.

    • The news is very interesting thank you very much for the information ..

    • Neha says:

      Best blog to get inspiration for writing.Thanks for helping new writers.

    • Kade Cook says:

      GREY – The Covenant of Shadows. Just released
      A supernatural, thriller, urban fantasy novel.

      All the truths of her life were born from the promise of a lie.
      A lie that could change everything.
      Gabrian Shadwell studied hard and kept her nose to the grindstone in order to live the successful full-life most humans strive for. The problem is, she isn’t exactly human.
      After protection wards and cloaking spells are cast to suppress any evidence of magic that may be running through her veins begins scratching it way through the surface, Gabrian fumbles with the unnerving discovery that she can see hazy energy fragments emanating from her clients’ bodies. What is even more shocking is she yearns to devour it. Her perfect straight-forward life as a normal mundane human is just a façade that’s coming to an end. She is comprised of the things spine-chilling nightmares are made of.
      With no possible way to return to the simple life she once knew, she struggles to concede to the fact the calm reality of her world has shifted and is now crawling with Borrowers, Mages, and Shadow Walking-beings. But Gabrian’s unyielding thirst for knowledge pushes her to dig her claws in and gain control over her gifts as an energy-lending Borrower—essential for her to survive and earn her place amongst them.
      Her chaotic journey of self-discovery takes her from the pan and throws her right into the fire when the tainted eyes of the self-righteous Elders in the realm turn against her. The silken-tongued devil that lurks within the darkness of the realm seems to be the only thing with an empathetic concern towards her—for a price. Her soft-hearted will combats with her logical inner voice about who is really telling her the truth. She tastes the sweet and sours of deception in the air from both sides, but she must choose which force will reign over her freedom thus deciding how tight her shackles will be on the new path she will walk upon.
      It is an inner battle she must fight in order to uncover the ugly answers she seeks, and along the way, Gabrian will fall face first into an important and absolute truth—sometimes the only difference between a Borrower and a Vampire is hope.

    • Kade Cook says:

      Buried Within

      ALL THE TRUTHS spoken here today were born from the promise of a lie—a lie that could change everything.
      Along the edges of the rugged Maine coastline, the morning mist slowly creeps forward and encompasses the walls of the weather-worn Centurion lighthouse. Standing strong for more than a century, it refuses to falter from duty.
      Below its ever-seeing eye, the icy Atlantic air begins to shift and bend. From its midst emerges a tall, fair-haired figure; a woman yet merely the essence of one. She bursts forth with conviction to her mission, followed by her raven guide who shrieks loudly in announcement of their arrival.

    • Not too many bloggers have the courage to urge people to talk about themselves, their writing. It’s almost begging for an inundation of bad prose and endless self-pity.

      I’ve been a professional writer for over thirty years and, frankly, I’m appalled by how the honorific “author” has been devalued to the extent that anyone who has self-published a collection of short verse on their beloved dachshund can hold their heads up proudly and proclaim: “I…am…an…AUTHOR.”

      Um, no.

      Writing is a daily task–part-timers and wannabes need not apply. And AUTHORS toil in secret for years, climb into the arena, get battered and bloodied and still keep plugging away, with no expectation of award or praise. It’s a punishing vocation, physically, mentally and spiritually.

      Unwilling to pay the price?

      Then maybe you should go back to flipping burgers…

    • Written a middle grade novel which is yet to be published. Working on a second with the same characters. My husband had quite a bit of input. Sadly, he was diagnosed with a brain tumour on the 29th March and died suddenly on the 10th April. It’s take a while to get back to the writing, but now I’m trying to move on.

    • Forgot to add http. Have done so now.

    • I am a new author, as yet unpublished. Last year I wrote my first middle-grade novel, Harriet and the Secret Librarian. My husband had quite a bit of input on this novel. I started writing a second novel in February with the same main characters, Harriet and the Secret Ring, which sees my protagonist opening a library book on ancient times. A ring jumps out of the page and she is able to time travel with her friend. Mu husband had some input on this one as well. I’m 2/3rds of the way through writing, and think that I would like to try to get this one published first. Sadly, my husband John became ill towards the end of February, and was diagnosed with a brain tumour on the 29th March. He died suddenly on the 10th April. It’s taken a while to get back to the writing. I have a Facebook author page, and am trying to teach myself the art of blogging. Debra Clewer

      • Debra says:

        my sympathies are with you. I have recently lost my husband as well ( only 7 months ago) and my writing stopped for a while as well. Nothing seemed worth it….. But if I may offer advice.. and you may have already thought of this write these with your husband in mine dedicate it to him and keep pluggin away. If you want I can give ya my email and we can talk if you would like. my heart goes out to you.

    • I have just launched a new site on book publishing and published my first post. http://ipublishbooks.com/my-story/

    • Micheal A says:

      Thanks for this question and opportunity to share what we love doing and what we are doing currently. I love writing and its part of me. Most of my best blog posts are the ones I wrote about myself.

      I write to tell others my stories from personal experience to learn. That’s my way and what I continue to do presently. Here is one of my articles about myself http://www.myloverstrick.com/2016/01/how-i-created-my-evergreen-blog-post.html

    • Hi Mary, et al
      I’m in the process of reviewing the proof for my soon to be published book, Your Owner’s Manual For Life~Source Code of Your Soul. A brief description:
      The similarities between the workings of our Mind/Body and computer technology are profoundly parallel. Having worked in the computing industry since the early 1990’s and the holistic field since 2003, I consistently see the correlation. Intriguingly, information technologies (I/T) are designed in our own likeness. Source Code utilizes this paradigm to illustrate and guide you in orchestrating your life in harmony with your Mind/Body in ways that are ideal for You.

      I also contributed to the Best-Selling ‘My Big Idea Book’ by Viki Winterton and will be receiving an EIPPY Award for it next month. The piece of advice I wrote is the following:

      The most significant Aha is realizing that life doesn’t happen To you, it happens For you. There’s wisdom to be mined from every experience, whether windfall or wound. Asking: Truth: If X happened/is happening for my highest and best, what might that be? puts you into a space of gratitude for the wisdom you may not be able to see…yet. Approaching life with this outlook opens you to the infinite possibilities available to you.

      I’ll be contributing to other publications in 2017 after the launch of Your Owner’s Manual For Life.

      Please note that my email will soon be changing to [email protected] once the site transition is complete.

      Many Thanks!
      Maureen Marie Damery, former Microsoft programmer, holistic facilitator and author of forthcoming book Your Owner’s Manual for Life ~ Source Code of Your Soul

    • Christine says:

      Hahhh, I’m not very good at writing…
      I’ve only gotten into writing recently, and I tried writing some short stories. They actually come out okay, but I’m not really sure how to continue this one, though….: It’s based off a story my father once told me. It’s set in China.

      I’d never been good at English.

      Maths? Excellent! Science? Great! Geography? Cool! But English? I had no idea.

      As a Chinese boy raised in a rural village, I’d never had need to know English. Even with Chinese, I had learnt to read and write it for fun, using the old, torn textbooks from the meager collection of the neighbouring library. I taught myself Maths and Geography in the same way, hungrily absorbing the barely readable words until sunset. There wasn’t much to do in a tiny village such as mine.

      Sweat dripped down my brow as I stared at the test, devoid of answers, in front of me. Father and mother had worked so hard to get me a place in the school. I couldn’t waste it. But how could I ever do a test in such a baffling language?

    • Manuel says:

      I’m writing a fantasy novel about a group of people, organizations and goverments which are trying to stop the ultimate Dark Lord (Lady, in fact… because it’s a woman). But this Dark Lord happens to be the good guy trying to reach the stream of knowledge of the universe.

    • Gloria says:

      Thanks WTD for asking. So nice to have this writing community. I’m a new non-fiction writer sharing about a personal faithful journey. I believe it will be good reading for the self-motivational and as a spiritual uplift to others. No website or blogs yet. Focused mostly on content and research.

      This book has been in the works for a few years after keeping a journal following a family medical crisis. The content and chapters changed as I studied to embrace this amazing world of writing. I’m still learning every day as I write and hope to have my manuscript completed within eight months.

    • I just finished the first chapter of a paranormal romance titled “By the Light of the Moon”. https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2096132-By-the-Light-of-the-Moon

    • I am working on a novel about a student who after being attacked goes on a journey trying to find peace but ends up doing a lot of unhelpful things to number the pain.

    • Emily Yager says:

      I am in the process of editing my Historical Romance novel that is set in a small Ukrainian settlement in North Western Minnesota. (To be released November 11) Here a link to sample a couple of chapters.

    • Marci Hansen says:

      I’m writing my first novel. I’ve been a blog and marketing writer for 20 years, this is the first work I’m doing for me instead of for a company I work for. I don’t have a link to the book. Below, I’ve pasted in my Synopsis and then the first page.

      In the coastal town of Depoe Bay, Oregon population 1400, two people, Amy and Owen, disappeared on the same night. Ryan, a police officer in Lincoln County, OR for only five months was the last person to see both of them alive. Ryan, 29, was an EMT for seven years, also in Lincoln County, before he quit to attend the police academy. Ryan knows nearly everyone in the small towns that make up Lincoln County. Sometimes that helps him with his job, sometimes it gets him in trouble.
      Ryan decided to switch careers and become a cop as part of trying to grow up to win back Abby, the mother of his five-year-old daughter Emma. Abby and Emma live in Junction City, OR, population 5400 where he travels to on his days off. Four days a week however, Ryan still lives on the beach in a bachelor pad with his three best EMT buddies. They live on coffee and beer, bring home different girls every night, get in bar fights, and are old enough to know better.
      Abby has fought hard to create a great life for herself and Emma. Her mom died when she was young, her dad died under suspicious circumstances, and she and Ryan broke up when she was 7 months pregnant. Now she has a great job and a great house in her quirky home town where everybody knows her and is in all of her business. Her daughter is precocious and has even more small town connections than Abby does. Her best friend puts on Shakespearian productions with her pre-school students and coffee filter ruffles. Her grandma quotes Michael Jackson and the band Semisonic to fix any emotional situation.
      Through too much hubris and not enough brains, Ryan becomes a suspect in the missing persons cases. The real killer, Abby’s uncle Keith is a retired cop and was hired by one of the missing persons (Amy) Grandmother to find out what happened to her.
      Keith, a single, retired Lincoln County cop, had been obsessed with Amy for years. When she started dating Owen, Keith couldn’t handle it and had them both murdered. He forced Ryan’s roommate Dom to help him murder them both and dump their bodies in the ocean. Keith and Dom have been blackmailing each other for a variety of sins for nearly a decade.
      As a team, they cover their crime, making it look like Owen and Amy could have run away together. They also plant evidence that point to Owen kidnapping and murdering Amy and, as a back-up, evidence that Ryan committed the murders.
      When Abby finds out that Ryan is being held as a suspect, she runs to Depoe Bay to help if she can. With assistance from her Grandpa, Ryan’s other roommates, and the two small town communities, Abby finds enough evidence to get Ryan released. Ryan and Abby then work with the detectives to discover that Uncle Keith and Dom are the killers.
      As his history is uncovered, Abby is left wondering if her uncle Keith murdered her dad ten years ago. She is also left wondering if Ryan is actually good for her and Emma.

      First page:
      “It’s Tuesday!”
      “It’s Tuesday Mom.”
      “Mom, it’s Tuesday”
      “Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday”
      “Yes, Emma, it is Tuesday,” Abby said with the exact amount of irritation you’d expect after hearing the word Tuesday five too many times.
      Abby looked in the rear view mirror at her five-year-old daughter bouncing up and down as much as her seat belt and booster seat would allow. Abby just picked Emma up from the after-school babysitter. Her near-white blond pony tails were messy and falling out and there was something sticky smeared on the left side of her face.
      “Ask me how I know it’s Tuesday Mom. Ask me.”
      Abby slowed her new beach-glass-green Subaru Outback to a stop at the red light on Ivy Street, the main artery in Junction City, the town Abby moved back to five years ago.
      “How do you know it’s Tuesday Boo?”
      “Two ways. I’m a detective and there are two clues that tell me it’s Tuesday.”
      “Is one of the clues that yesterday was Monday?” Abby asked.
      “Now I have three clues. One,” she yelled and held up her tiny finger as if on stage giving a TED talk. “Yesterday was Monday.”
      “Two,” making the world’s smallest peace sign. “We are on our way to get take-and-bake pizzas,” she declared.
      “And three,” she yelled even louder, “because you are humming and smiling.”
      Abby’s heart skipped just a half a beat at Emma’s observation. “I don’t want to be happier on Tuesdays,” Abby thought to herself. She forced smiled into the rearview mirror at Emma.
      “You are observant and clever Emma.”
      “I know Mom. You tell me I’m clever all the time. That’s why I’m going to be a detective like dad.”
      “Dad isn’t a detective yet. He’s a policeman right now. He’s hoping to be a detective someday. Being a policeman is really awesome too.”
      “And,” Emma said, somehow defying all natural law by yelling even louder, “what’s really, really awesome is that he’ll be home tonight for dinner which makes you hum and smile and makes me…”
      “Yell,” Abby interrupted loudly. “Can we be really happy and whisper?” Abby stage whispered.
      “Pizza and Dad! Pizza and Dad! Pizza and Dad!” Abby repeated in a stage whisper while pumping her right fist in the air. Emma joined in, fist and all, then collapsed in a fit of giggles.

    • Sierra says:

      I’m working on just building a writing habit!

      I’ve started a new personal blog that covers my outdoor adventures, lessons I’m learning from a career pivot, and some interesting reads. My toughest post so far was a breakdown of lessons learned from Shoe Dog by Phil Knight (so long!).

    • I’m busy working on new editions of two of my hiking guidebooks covering trails in Northern California. Both books are published by The Mountaineers Books in Seattle, and they’ve both been in print for 20-plus years.

      It’s a lot of work, but I’m loving spending so much time in the wilderness.

    • Grace says:

      I am working on writing a children’s book. Here is a sample. Zoey is a 4 year old monkey. She lives in a tree house in the woods with her dad, mom and two brothers, Rowdy & Jordy. Rowdy is 10 and Jordy is 8. Zoey is little for her age. She is always being made fun of for being so little. Zoey’s nickname is “little Zoey”. Zoey despised being called “little Zoey” because it caused others to consider her as a baby. She didn’t want to be thought of as a baby. Zoey wanted to be thought of as a brave monkey.

      Even though she is little Zoey tried to do whatever her brothers did. If they climbed a tree, she tried to climb the tree. Sometimes she would make it up the tree, and sometimes she didn’t. If she didn’t make it up the tree, she still was proud of herself because she had tried.

      One day the family was hanging out at home. Mom was in the kitchen washing dishes. Dad was in the living room taking a nap. Mom had told Rowdy and Jordy to take care of their sister while she finished the dishes. Rowdy and Jordy took Zoey outside to play. The family’s tree house sat in the middle of a bunch of trees. This gave them many trees for playing and swinging. The monkey’s began swinging from tree to tree. Laughing and having a wonderful time together. Rowdy, Jordy, and Zoey noticed a new tree, and it was huge and full of BANANAS! They had never seen so many bananas or such a huge tree. It was decided that they would climb the tree, pick the bananas, and take them back to mom and dad. The three monkey’s decided to work together to get the bananas. They determined that Rowdy would climb up the tree first. He climbed up the tree to the bananas. Rowdy began picking the bananas. Soon his arms were full of bananas. Rowdy hollered to Jordy and Zoey, “ I need help up here.” Jordy sprung into action and up the tree he climbed. The two boys worked together and continued to pick the bananas. The boys hollered to Zoey, “We need your help.” “Prove to us you are not a baby.” Zoey tried to climb up the tree. She climbed part way up and the tree, and then fell. Rowdy and Jordy laughed and made fun of her. They hollered, “Zoey is a baby”, “Zoey is a baby.” The more Zoey’s brothers called her a baby the more angrier Zoey got.

    • Thabo says:

      I am working on a short story on prejudices, a lesbian heir to the throne of his tribe finds hesrelf
      caught in a web of rejection from her people because she is in love with a white lebian.

    • Pam Fernandez says:

      I don’t have a website or a link to my work, so I will only include the prologue, since it’s kind of long by itself. It’s actually two prologues because the story is taking two views of the happenings. The entire story at this point is roughly 80,000 words and isn’t finished yet.


      “—Beth!!” The evacuation was premature. There was no warning! One minute in the field, the next in some kind of lab. An ominous sound had preceded the abduction. But had the sound come from the field, or from this lab? There was no way to know, and no time to dwell on it. No time to even ask.
      Nate’s sweaty sandy-colored hair was pasted to his forehead and his glasses were fogging up from his own body heat. He looked around the enclosure until his eyes settled on the operator, as surreal as he appeared through a few layers of thick glass. “No! Send me back!” he pleaded. “You have to send me back.”
      Still dizzy from the sudden abduction, Nate knew that if he didn’t go back right then, Beth, Chrissy, and Matt were as good as dead. He couldn’t let that happen. They were innocent in this whole thing. Simon had already paid the ultimate sacrifice for him. Having anyone else pay that price was unacceptable—especially when children were involved. If these people wanted him that badly, then let them take just him. But leave the innocent out of this.
      At the time the vortex had grabbed him, three black SUV’s were chasing Beth and her two children through a field—some government intervention initiative meant to erase all memory of Earthly travelers from Andu. A move easily justified, if only the people arriving on Andu had actually initiated the transfer. They should be going after the real culprit, the one who started this whole mess in the first place.
      Nate hollered at the nameless operator, “Send me back, or they’ll die!” The operator seemed frozen, or deliberately slothful. “Now!!”

      * * *


      Dennis hauled Shawna up the stairs while she fought to get back down. The tight leather she
      had poured herself into made it easier to grip her dinky frame, but it also made it easier for her to entangle him in any head-first flight down the stairs. All the way from the car to here, this display of aggression had only worsened by the minute. It was a struggle surely grabbing the attention of neighbors. Were it not so late, many would probably be gawking by now. Maybe they were—curtains hide a multitude of sins. Eyes glued to wide-angle peepholes get a silent-film view of everything. Silent, in this case, was not to be confused with the chaos that Dennis was subjected to right this minute.
      Wild animalistic sounds emanated from Shawna as she pushed herself away. Her spiked black hair, with fluorescent blue highlights at the ends, danced in his face like feathers goading a sneeze. This behavior was so unlike her. Normally so charismatic and gentle, she bore no resemblance to her former self, aside from her name. He held her against him, clutching her wrists to keep her from scratching him. Those nails could do some real damage. It would bring the definition of cat scratch fever to a whole new level.
      “Shawna, stop!” He tried to keep his voice down, but it was becoming difficult to act like a normal human being while he was trying to wrangle this…this…whatever she was. She thrust an elbow in his face. The band around her upper arm smacked his jaw hard. His head slammed against the wall, and clips of his dark hair got left behind in the splinters of wood. He swore. He would ask forgiveness for that one later. She pushed back against the wall, getting a foot up on the railing for leverage. They both nearly tumbled down the stairs. She didn’t even let out a scream. The normal Shawna would have. Heights terrified her. Even standing on a bench brought on an episode of vertigo.
      His tone went up a degree. “What is wrong with you?! Why are you acting like this?” She was being completely unreasonable, and now their altercation was beginning to draw even more attention. People were hanging out of their doorways. Forget peepholes and curtains—this was good stuff, YouTube material in the making. Probably because someone was just short of getting hurt. God forbid anyone miss out on potential hideous compound fractures and all of the blood that was about to be spilled.
      “Shawna, stop this!!” His choices were limited. Under normal circumstances, Dennis would
      never resort to anything like this. “God, forgive me.” He smacked her across the cheek, just hard enough to daze her. She sagged against him, out cold. Dennis caught her, just barely, before she actually did tumble down the stairs. “Great,” he sighed. “Just perfect.”
      He grunted as he lifted her into his arms and carried her the rest of the way to her apartment.
      Never mind the dinky frame. This unrecognizable Shawna had some major muscle groups neatly packed under all that leather, which was considerably heavy when carried around on an unconscious body.
      He flopped her onto the bed. Removing her knee-high black boots and socks, he maneuvered her under the covers. She was asleep, this sweet woman who had unexpectedly turned into a barracuda. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair, feeling for bald patches. There were none, but a few splinters of wood met his fingers. He didn’t relish agonizing over getting those out. How he would accomplish that task was another matter altogether. He was sweating up a storm—what a workout that was! Dennis could never have imagined a date with Shawna was as good as a trip to the gym.
      She stirred. “No, I don’t want to go back,” she whimpered. “Please don’t send me back.” To him, it seemed that momentarily she seemed to be fighting against…something. “No! I don’t want to go back!” Then she quieted down, her eyes open and glazed over. A second later, a shimmering glow seemed to envelop her.
      Dennis blinked. Was he seeing things clearly, or was dehydration playing a part in all of this? A glass of tea would do him good, and he started toward the kitchen to get some. Suddenly Shawna bolted upright. A scream that seemed to begin in another time pierced the air. Dennis jumped. The adrenaline rush made it hard to concentrate as he ran back to the bed.
      “Shawna, it’s okay.” He sat down beside her, afraid to touch her. She fixed wild eyes on him. “Hey, it’s okay, don’t worry.” Dennis risked bodily injury and held her while she digested her surroundings. Her bed. Her bedroom. The clock. She seemed to linger on that, as if it wasn’t the same one. The dining room through French doors that led to the rest of her apartment. She could see the computer on the desk out there.
      “Am I home?” Her breathing was rapid. Well, given the fight she put up… “Am I finally home?”
      He frowned. “What?” Dennis took her face in his hands, brushing her hair away from her face,
      sweat gluing some of it in place. She seemed so—normal. “Of course, you’re home, Babe. Where else would you be?” He was worried. What was going on? She had gone from wild animal to deer in the headlights in mere minutes.
      She ran fingers over his forehead and into his dark hair, her eyes probing his entire face, as if she were searching for something. “Kiss me, Dennis,” she whispered. She seemed relieved when his kind blue eyes locked on hers. He kissed her, hesitantly at first, until she melted into him. She remembered how good his kisses were. Unhurried, gentle, but thorough enough to let her know she had been kissed. She rested her moist forehead against his. “I had to be sure it was really you.”
      He pulled away again. More worry lined his face. “What do you mean by that?” His eyes studied her hair, cut the way he remembered it—not that spiky, disheveled mess he had been dodging earlier. He touched the ends of her hair, moved them through his fingers—wasn’t there blue tinting just minutes ago? He pushed her sleeve up—no longer leather. No armband, just deep, red, irregular lines on her upper arm. Tender red lines, judging by her reaction. This didn’t make any sense. Just like the blue that had been in her hair, there was an armband around her bicep just minutes earlier. His jaw still ached from the blow she had managed to lay on him with that band. The huge ear cuff that had been taking a bite out of her ear was gone now, too. Only her beautifully delicate ears remained.
      “It’s hard to explain.” She choked up. Making it through this discussion in one piece would be impossible. Finally having the serenity of home, and yet to be unable to explain what had happened was unfair.
      “Come here, Shawna” Dennis whispered, holding her close. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but everything is okay now. I’m here.”
      “Hold me tighter.” He did. He could feel her arms squeezing, trying to pull him even closer. “I
      was on another world,” she said. A rasping breath through her tears halted her words. “Andu. This other world; it’s called Andu. It has people like you and me, people who are you and me, but they’re not the same. But not clones, either. You were—the other you—was harsh…and there was a gash, sewn up already, on your—his—forehead…and fire—lots of fire…” Dennis was skeptical. How unlike her to come up with a story like this. Which only signified that she had been dreaming…or…
      Suddenly Shawna gasped and put a hand to her head. She shot a terrified look at him. “Dennis, what’s ha…?” A brief blood-curdling scream escaped her.
      “Shawna?!” He was already dialing 9-1-1 as she fell limply back onto the pillow. By the time
      the ambulance arrived minutes later, she was in a full seizure. “Hurry up!” he screamed at the paramedics as they wheeled the gurney in through the door. Her temperature soared to 105 degrees, and Dennis helplessly knelt by the bed, holding her while the tremors surged through her.
      Dennis helped one paramedic hold her still while the other inserted an IV needle into the vein
      above her wrist. The convulsion ended as the fluids began pumping into her system. They shifted her to the gurney. Securing the straps sent Shawna into a frenzy.
      “Shawna, hold still; everything is all right, sweetheart.” His hand on her forehead calmed her. He pulled it back a moment later. “Jeez, she’s burning up.”
      “Let’s move.”
      Another convulsion hit as they were hauling the gurney down the narrow stairway. They paused on the landing and waited for the seizure to pass. Neighbors peered out of doorways, murmuring to
      each other as they observed the gurney making its way down to the ground floor.
      In the ambulance, Shawna hovered somewhere between reality and delirium—calling out names, one of them her brother, Simon—history was twisted—a chopper landed on the highway—the vortex swept her up—something West. Dennis sat on the seat beside her, listening to the gibberish, and feeling absolutely helpless.

    • George Vilkenson is a lawyer for one of the top tech firms in the country. After he wins a case for them they send him on a trip to a remote resort. When he returns he does not feel quite right. What starts off as the flu progresses to a life threatening illness that has his doctors stumped. He dies a gruesome bloody death in his hospital bed bleeding all over eight staff members who were trying to save him. By the end of the day they all have similar flu like symptoms but instead of progressing like George they all get an voracious appetite for warm raw meat.

    • Ross Kelly says:

      Having written and published a story of my family, and having ghost written family stories for three clients, I just completed my book on how to write your story, appropriately entitled, “What’s Your Story?” It will be published mid-October.

    • George Vilkenson is a lawyer for one of the top tech firms in the country. After he wins a case for them they send him on a trip to a remote resort. When he returns he does not feel quite right. What starts off as the flu progresses to a life threatening illness that has his doctors stumped. He dies a gruesome bloody death in his hospital bed bleeding all over eight staff members who were trying to save him. By the end of the day they all have similar flu like symptoms but instead of progressing like George they all get an voracious appetite for warm raw meat.

    • George Vilkenson is a lawyer for one of the top tech firms in the country. After he wins a case for them they send him on a trip to a remote resort. When he returns he does not feel quite right. What starts off as the flu progresses to a life threatening illness that has his doctors stumped. He dies a gruesome bloody death in his hospital bed bleeding all over eight staff members who were trying to save him. By the end of the day they all have similar flu like symptoms but instead of progressing like George they all get an voracious appetite for warm raw meat.

    • George Vilkenson is a lawyer for one of the top tech firms in the country. After he wins a case for them they send him on a trip to a remote resort. When he returns he does not feel quite right. What starts off as the flu progresses to a life threatening illness that has his doctors stumped. He dies a gruesome bloody death in his hospital bed bleeding all over eight staff members who were trying to save him. By the end of the day they all have similar flu like symptoms but instead of progressing like George they all get an voracious appetite for warm raw meat.

    • Carol Fillmore says:

      I have started a brand new (published first one on September 9)poetry blog, to share my own and to explore new forms. Here is the link:)


    • Hugh Parker says:

      “Your destination is on your right.”

      “Thanks Echo, Sara and I will get out here.”

      Both front doors opened automatically. A flurry of snowflakes emphasized the cold.

      James flipped his collar up.

      Snow crunched as he jogged around the taillights to the passenger side of the 2020 Sleek.

      “Why aren’t you getting out?”

      “I miss the old days when a guy opened a door for a gal.”

      Adrenaline pumped a smile into his face. He extended a hand out to gallantly help her exit.

      Holding his cold hand, she asked, “Isn’t that better?”

      “Much, but it is starting to come down big time.”

      “And?” Relying on default settings, the side doors closed.

      “And — we need to get the heavy box out of the back.”

      “Yeah,” she said softly, but stood in front of him like a mirror reflection.

      He felt disoriented as he planned to get the box yet realized it was a perfect time for a kiss.

      She leaned forward.

      Around eager lips, he said, “Or, we could just stay here.”

      She pulled back. “Box!” as if work was the only thing on her mind.

      He jammed his hands into his pockets to keep them warm.

      She led him around to the front of the hatchback.

      He heard “Crunch, crunch” until he realized they were at the front of the car.

      Sara held her hands behind her back.

      Lips met.

      The driver-less car backed up and headed to its next Uber assignment.

    • Two books and an special Idea:

      “Write today”, english translation of my acclaimed Spanish manual for writers “Escribe Hoy”. It helps to outline and write first draft of a novel in 30 days or less. NaNoWriMo anyone?? (to be released in September).

      “Las mujeres que solían soñar” (Women to use to dream). Second book of my series of the same name, and continuation of my first novel, Clara Sandra solía soñar (Clara Sandra used to dream). It’s focused in New Spain, with two women attacked by the Spanish Inquisition because they can dream about the future. Are they witches of prophets?? (to be released in October)

      But more important… We are promoting now the “Literary Visits”. The idea is going with one author to a place in which is or her book had some scenes, and s/he reads part of the book in the place. By example, in Cuauhtemoc’s Treasure (El tesoro de Cuauhtémoc) we go to the Aztec Mayor Temple and hear there some scenes placed in that scenario. Pretty cool!! http://visitasliterarias.com

    • Chris Graham says:

      I’ve recently finished my final read through and edit of my latest novel… though I’m sure there will be a few other revisions before it’s committed to Kindle and paperback. There’s always those sneaky typos that creep silently past the eagle eyes of myself and my publisher.

      But first, a warning: I write crime novels, often covering contentious subjects. One of the themes covered in this book is ‘honour killing’.

      A young British student of Pakistani origin, has left her faith and is in a relationship with a young Englishman, despite her family’s wishes that she marries a suitor chosen by her father.
      Though her father isn’t happy about it, it’s her elder brother who really takes offence at the perceived disrespect she’s shown to her family, and the dishonour she’s brought on them.

      She left the family home and went into hiding. Following a failed attempt on her life, she now believes that her brother has fled to escape the attentions of the police. Consequently, she has returned to her studies.

      The following is the scene where her brother finally catches up with her.
      . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

      FROM: DISRESPECTED – “Nothing gets you a little respect like the muzzle of a gun”.

      Temporarily balancing a sheaf of papers and her laptop in the crook of one arm, the girl turned the door handle to let herself out of the room. She was pleased that she’d got out before the rush of students began, all heading for a coffee break. As she stepped out into the corridor, she almost collided with a workman walking past.

      Following him, she made her way to the lift, where her load was transferred yet again to just one arm to allow her to press the down button. Ahead of her, just along the corridor, she could see the maintenance man put his holdall on the floor and take out a screwdriver. It looked as if he was unscrewing a light switch.

      The familiar double tone alerted her to the arrival of the lift. She entered, then propping her papers and laptop against the side of the car, she held them in place with her body as she used her now free hand to press for her floor. There was a soft scraping sound as the doors began to move.

      As soon as he saw the doors begin to slide shut, the workman dashed to the lift and slipped inside as they finally closed. He immediately threw his arm around the girl’s throat from behind, letting his elbow fold to clamp her in a vice like grip. She gasped for breath, dropping her laptop and her work onto the floor with a clatter. Her eyes opened wide with terror, as she stared into the reflection in the mirrored interior wall.

      The girl recognised the once familiar clean shaven face that looked back at her as it stared over her shoulder in the mirror. She attempted to scream, but her assailant simply squeezed his arm tighter around her throat. She felt, rather than heard, a sickening popping crunching sound, like tearing the leg off a chicken, transmitting itself through her skull as her jaw dislocated.

      Scrabbling vainly with one hand, she tried to reach the alarm button, but her assailant held her just out of reach as with his free hand he inserted his long screwdriver into the soft area below her ribs, then pushed its sharpened tip up through her heart and one of her lungs with no more effort than skewering poultry before lowering it into a tandoor.

      The iron taste of blood filled her mouth as it frothed up her windpipe, then she slumped as her legs seemed to go from under her. She was vaguely aware of her bladder letting go, before becoming no longer aware of anything ever again.

      Her brother whispered, “Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi rajiun,” into her no longer hearing ear, then let her slide gently down to the floor, now wet, and strewn with urine soaked papers. The lift came abruptly to a halt.

      As the doors opened, he pressed the button for another floor, then slipped away onto the landing. No one noticed him.

      The lift doors closed again almost immediately, then with a slight shudder, the lift left for the top floor. What few students there were, walking past, had their noses buried in their smartphones. Life still went on; except for one particular student.

      Rashid went through the door into the men’s toilets, then shut himself into a cubicle just as he heard the door open again as someone followed him in. Breathing a sigh of relief, he took off his overalls and stuffed them into his bag.

      He waited till he heard the sound of running water as hands were washed, then the whooshing of the hand drier, followed by the opening and closing of the door. Eventually all seemed quiet.

      Noticing a little blood on his hand, he wiped it clean with toilet paper, then flushed the smeared tissue away before letting himself out of the cubicle.

      After washing his hands, he checked himself carefully in the mirror for any other incriminating signs before going out into the corridor. Trying hard to appear calmer than he felt, he made his way down the stairs to the next landing just as a boisterous group of students came along the corridor.

      Rashid’s initial instinct had been to get away as quickly as possible. If he ran, then within seconds he could be driving away from the campus, but he realised that he’d be better losing himself in the crowd.

      There were a number of Asian students, many of whom were what was considered as ‘mature’, so a man like him in his late twenties would blend in OK. Someone blundering at full speed, through the crowded students heading for their coffee break, would be noticed.

      He wondered how long it would be until the girl’s body was discovered. He’d deliberately sent the lift to the top floor, where he knew there was redecoration being carried out by contractors.

      They wouldn’t be heading for the canteen at this time of the morning, and most students tended to take the stairs when going down, if a lift wasn’t immediately available. At least there was something to be thankful to the current fashion for keeping fit.
      * * *

    • Kim says:

      I am writing for my blog! I write about creativity, mostly focused on photography and writing. My newest won’t be live for a few more minutes, so I’m leaving the link to my homepage here.


      I hope you’ll have a look, and let me know what you think. Have a great day!

    • Nicolas says:

      It began with a huge whirlwind that could be seen through out the sky, people began screaming,
      “What is it?” what’s happenin,?” Then suddenly-
      It disappeared.
      Everyone was asking, what just happened?
      But others were saying, I don’t know and I don’t care as long as it’s gone.
      Then everything was starting all over again,
      but this time a huge mist or fog began covering everything, and from out of it, these horrendous looking creatures began advancing towards the people of the town.
      Everyone began running and screaming, but it was no use the creatures were already.
      The teller of Tales…Nicolas..

    • :Donna says:

      Hmmm…well, what I WANT to be writing is my novel series, but that hasn’t happened yet. So far it’s sporadically fleshed out in bits and pieces 🙂

      Most of my writing time is spent on writing comments (like this one) roundabout the blogosphere, tweets (Twitter, my favorite social media venue) and an occasional blog post, my most recent one of value to those who like podcasts:


    • I am currently finishing a memoir my genre has always been poetry. This memoir is my life moving ahead and following my dreams! A book of life lessons in short simple and real! The reader joins me on my life journey! Writing is sharing a words that open a mind and touch a heart to believe in the many possibilities this life has to offer. A book for the ageing population on making the choice to follow your heart to what gives you the most joy!! It will enlighten you to the possibilities that anything is worth reaching for a book of hope enlightenment!

    • Mary, thank you for the opportunity to share my suspense thriller RESCUE THE INNOCENT with you and your readers. Revising the manuscript. I would appreciate your feedback.
      A woman is despised, ignored, and ultimately rejected for competing and earning a traditional man’s job. She is challenged on all sides and must fight to keep a host of adversaries from sabotaging her “ambitious” efforts.
      The expected plot arc is flipped upside down and sideways, mostly the result of character-driven choices that worsen their precarious conflicts.
      This is a frightening and extremely human story of what could happen to thousands of stranded Americans in an ocean controlled by a global syndicate of techno-savvy terrorists. Read chapters 1-6 on Amazon, iBooks, Nook, GooglePlay, Kobo, or on my website.
      Link to Amazon: http://amzn.to/1UZ31P1
      Twitter @christinakgross Facebook.com/christinakgross Goodreads

    • This was given to us as a college assignment! Hope you enjoy the read!


    • So, this was written for a creative writing assignment given to us. Hope you enjoy the read.


    • Alexandria Storm says:

      I’m working on a short story about slave trade. It’s not finished yet. So… No link.?

    • kapush says:


      And updated the home page: http://kapush.org/cat-litter/

      This is an Amazon affiliate blog but I have tried to make it into something that will provide real value to my readers.

      Thank you for the opportunity to showcase our work. I would appreciate your taking the time to offer criticism.

    • Ravi Choudhary says:

      These are couple of chapters in the link, of my first project. May contain mistakes, please ignore them and post a useful review if you read it.


      • EKKing says:

        This story sounds very interesting, although I wasn’t sure what timeline/time period it was for – perhaps apocalyptic or post-apocalyptic? I wasn’t sure.
        Other than some spelling, tense, and POV errors, this storyline holds a lot of promise! More imagery couldn’t hurt, either.
        Hope you finish it; was a delightful read. Thanks for the opportunity to view it.

    • Chris Sam says:

      I blog at http://www.sightsnrhymes.wordpress.com, and this post is my greatest and most visited [https://sightsnrhymes.wordpress.com/2016/08/13/betem-liberation-festival-a-cultural-view-of-the-betem-people/] and I think it is an awesome post

    • Doug Lytton says:


      Below is one of my published articles. I could have selected one on my trip to Great Britain just as well, or my reflections on Wimberley, Texas. Hope you read it?


    • William Boteler says:


      I wrote this story for Seven Seas magazine in July. One of my interests is promoting conservation and conservation groups. This is an eco-tourism magazine and the photography in my opinion, rivals National Geographic. National Geographic magazine originally was a travel magazine written for affluent people but later became a tool to educate and inform the public about geography and science.

      Below you will find the link. See page 120 for my story about the Florida Keys:

      • Congratulations! I’ve never been to the Florida Keys and your article really made me want to go and visit.

    • Risha Rahman says:

      It based on bloodlines, women from three different generations. Their search for love, that goes unrequited.

    • >