#writing — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #writing, aggregated by home.social.
-
Leanpub authors!
Check out our new Tip of the Day channel on our website:
https://leanpub.com/tips/leanpub
#books #writing #selfpublishing #leanpublishing #bookmarketing
-
Leanpub authors!
Check out our new Tip of the Day channel on our website:
https://leanpub.com/tips/leanpub
#books #writing #selfpublishing #leanpublishing #bookmarketing
-
Leanpub authors!
Check out our new Tip of the Day channel on our website:
https://leanpub.com/tips/leanpub
#books #writing #selfpublishing #leanpublishing #bookmarketing
-
Leanpub authors!
Check out our new Tip of the Day channel on our website:
https://leanpub.com/tips/leanpub
#books #writing #selfpublishing #leanpublishing #bookmarketing
-
Sancho le rinde a Don Quijote un informe lleno de mentiras e inventos sobre Dulcinea, transformando la idealizada visión del hidalgo en una tosca realidad campesina. Capítulo 31 de la Parte I 👇
https://fictograma.com/d/3749-el-ingenioso-hidalgo-don-quijote-de-la-mancha-parte-i-capitulo-31 -
Sancho le rinde a Don Quijote un informe lleno de mentiras e inventos sobre Dulcinea, transformando la idealizada visión del hidalgo en una tosca realidad campesina. Capítulo 31 de la Parte I 👇
https://fictograma.com/d/3749-el-ingenioso-hidalgo-don-quijote-de-la-mancha-parte-i-capitulo-31 -
Sancho le rinde a Don Quijote un informe lleno de mentiras e inventos sobre Dulcinea, transformando la idealizada visión del hidalgo en una tosca realidad campesina. Capítulo 31 de la Parte I 👇
https://fictograma.com/d/3749-el-ingenioso-hidalgo-don-quijote-de-la-mancha-parte-i-capitulo-31 -
Sancho le rinde a Don Quijote un informe lleno de mentiras e inventos sobre Dulcinea, transformando la idealizada visión del hidalgo en una tosca realidad campesina. Capítulo 31 de la Parte I 👇
https://fictograma.com/d/3749-el-ingenioso-hidalgo-don-quijote-de-la-mancha-parte-i-capitulo-31 -
Sancho le rinde a Don Quijote un informe lleno de mentiras e inventos sobre Dulcinea, transformando la idealizada visión del hidalgo en una tosca realidad campesina. Capítulo 31 de la Parte I 👇
https://fictograma.com/d/3749-el-ingenioso-hidalgo-don-quijote-de-la-mancha-parte-i-capitulo-31 -
I 100% agree with this article about running a small press. Very, very good info here.
https://www.deiora.com/blog/doing-small-press-math
#writing #publishing #SmallPress #smallBusiness #SmallBookstore #Writers #WritingLife
-
I 100% agree with this article about running a small press. Very, very good info here.
https://www.deiora.com/blog/doing-small-press-math
#writing #publishing #SmallPress #smallBusiness #SmallBookstore #Writers #WritingLife
-
I 100% agree with this article about running a small press. Very, very good info here.
https://www.deiora.com/blog/doing-small-press-math
#writing #publishing #SmallPress #smallBusiness #SmallBookstore #Writers #WritingLife
-
I 100% agree with this article about running a small press. Very, very good info here.
https://www.deiora.com/blog/doing-small-press-math
#writing #publishing #SmallPress #smallBusiness #SmallBookstore #Writers #WritingLife
-
I 100% agree with this article about running a small press. Very, very good info here.
https://www.deiora.com/blog/doing-small-press-math
#writing #publishing #SmallPress #smallBusiness #SmallBookstore #Writers #WritingLife
-
Short Story: Membership Card By Gusti Aditya
Membership Card
A Short Story by Gusti Aditya (2026)
I buy three condoms at a supermarket. The store assistant offers me a discount if I want to join their store loyalty program. I ask how much is the discount. They says it’s 25% of whatever the price is. I agree because 25% in a crisis like this is very important. Especially for buying condoms that are only going to be thrown away afterwards. I give her my phone number, my identity card, and my current address. “Apartment unit 3 on Independence Struggle Street,” I say, slowly. The store assistant hands me a black membership card. After that, I get the discount. But who would have guessed that because of that discount I would be hauled away by two police officers after they kick really hard on the door of my apartment.
They leave me in a quiet room, like the interrogation rooms in action movies. For almost two hours I sit on a bench, with no table. A few meters in front of me, there is another chair that has been empty since earlier. I try to remember everything I have done. I feel I haven’t done anything with the potential to have me hauled away by the police I try to remember what I’ve posted on social media. I haven’t typed anything at all except for making fun of the memes scattered throughout my social media feed. Lastly there is only a canceled date—and three condoms that ended up not being used.
For a moment, I hear someone clear their throat. I look up. There is a loudspeaker, and that is where the sound of throat-clearing is coming from. “Mm,” it clears again, “Can you hear me, sir?” it asks. “Nod your head if you can hear my voice.” I do what they want. “Can you say something, sir? To test whether our technology is any good.”
Technology is any good? Is hearing that person’s voice the measure of good technology? I try to be cooperative. “Can you hear my voice?”
“Wow. Perfect.” The person’s voice sounds a bit noisy. It seems like the loudspeaker has bumped into something. Or whatever it is I don’t understand.
“Can you explain why I’ve been brought into this room?” I try more aggressively.
Silence lasts a long time. I look up. I look at the loudspeaker even though I know what I’m doing is stupid and pointless because there is not going to be anything up there. “Hm,” the voice sounds as if it’s trying to think of something, “Did you buy three condoms yesterday?”
I feel uncomfortable with the question. Shame flashes through me. “Is it a crime for a forty-four-year-old man to buy condoms?”
“Oh, of course not.”
“So?”
“Are you a member of the Tanjung Supermarket loyalty program?”
I think for a moment. “Tanjung Supermarket?” I murmur. “Oh, the store where I bought condoms?”
“Right.”
“Yes. I signed up because if I’m part of the program, the discount is pretty good. Twenty-five percent, just imagine that.”
The person is quiet for a long time. Then, you can hear a faint rustling sound, and they ask something completely different.
“Do you agree with the programs of our country’s government, sir?”
My brow furrows, “What do you mean?”
“Let me put this simply. Do you hate our government, sir?”
I recall every conversation I’ve had that day—with the store assistant, my girlfriend, my office colleagues, and everyone else I’ve met. I have been so compliant; any profanity or frustration stayed locked inside my heart and feelings, never once vented on social media or in any conversations with others. Lately, though, I have often cursed the crisis happening in the country in the silence of my own mind.
“No, not really. Haven’t you got the wrong idea?”
“Do you hate the government of our country?” The bastard hiding inside the loudspeaker repeats the question. “Answer based on your feelings, sir, not on any considerations of self-interest.”
Considerations of self-interest? What the hell? “Are you accusing me of being a dissident?” I raise my voice.
That memory feels like an earthquake in time. Suddenly I am transported to a moment when I have to buy condoms at a convenience store. I am not in the bleak room I’m living in, but rather my girlfriend’s small, rundown flat with her constantly complaining that the national crisis is driving the cost of living through the roof.
“These medicines just keep getting more expensive. Damn the people up there at the top!” she shouts. Anyone overhearing us was definitely bound to think we were fighting.
At the time I am harboring a sense of frustration. I am annoyed because I haven’t managed to sleep with her. The condoms that I usually carried had—somehow—simply vanished as if they’d been stolen by an invisible being. My girlfriend doesn’t keep condoms in her flat anymore, either. “I’m going out. I’m buying a whole damn dozen of those things!” I grumble under my breath. She laughs, smoke billowing from her mouth, and kisses me hungrily—her breath carrying that musty scent, like clothes that haven’t quite dried always emanating from the mixture my girlfriend was smoking.
And so I find myself standing before the store assistant whose face—I only now realize—looks incredibly fresh, as if clumps of fat are crowding their cheeks. Their head seems to emit a glow like the rear end of a firefly. “You’ll get a discount if you join the Tanjung Supermarket loyalty program,” they said. Yes, Tanjung Supermarket. I remember the name.
“Oh really? How much is the discount I get?”
“25%,” they reply.
There is nothing wrong with that conversation. Nor do I feel there is anything wrong with buying condoms, a dildo, or even the gear to put together a bomb.
The memory played on, leading me back to my girlfriend’s flat. Inside there she is watching television. She is looking at a lot of people being arrested simply because of their affiliation with a banned movement that is trying to overthrow the ruling regime. My girlfriend is fuming. She is spewing profanities. I sit and listen to the conversation. In the end the condoms do not get used.I clutch my head. A throbbing dizziness shoots through me the pain so sharp I can feel it in my teeth. “Hey, sir?” I hear a voice over the loudspeaker. “You’re alright, aren’t you? Don’t die just yet.” Don’t die just yet they say?
“Is it because my girlfriend talks so much trash about the government of our country?” I ask.
“Oh,” he pauses taken aback. “So your girlfriend often ridicules our country’s government? Fine, we’ll punish her eventually. But right now, it’s your turn. Your offense is far more serious.”
“What exactly did I do wrong?” I ask, half-pleading.
Then a man enters who is wearing none of the usual marks of a police officer.
He is overweight, and the sleeves of his suit are tight against his arms. His neck is swallowed up by rolls of fat. His hairline is receding, revealing a pimply, bald scalp like a shoreline littered with trash. “Hello,” he says—the owner of the voice from the loudspeaker. He is carrying a laptop which he simply sets down on his lap. He turns the laptop screen toward me. A video is playing.
At first the video shows a man with his hands behind his back—apparently bound by handcuffs. The low-quality, amateurish clip ends with a statement from the man whose hands are tied. “I confess that I am one of the people funding the dissidents. I provided billions so the dissidents could cut off the head of our country’s government—a government that stinks and does not stand with the people,” he declares heroically. He continued, “The profits I made went entirely to the employees, members, and rebels. To me their well-being matters more than that of the colleagues, sycophants, and lackeys willing to bend over just to get a slice of power.”
The screen goes dark, and the sound of repeated blows can be heard. But not a single cry of pain can be heard from the man being beaten.
The fat man then closes the laptop and places it beneath his chair. “So, what is your connection to that man?”
“Huh? Who is he? I have no idea.”
My spontaneous words seems to annoy him. He steps closer and punches my stomach hard. He grabs my hair, forcing me to look at a black membership card bearing my name. “You’re a member of Tanjung Supermarket!” the fat man shouts.
“Yes, I am. I’m a member. Just to get a 25% discount!”
“That means you support the rebels!” He punches me in the stomach again.
Then my right cheek is next to feel the blows of the fat-filled man. Next there is the sound of a door opening.
The two police officers who brought me in earlier walk in. What follows is blood, loose teeth, and my own cries of pain.
When I open my eyes, I find that many others are sharing my fate. They have been even more seriously injured than me; some have dislocated bones—a sight that makes me recoil in horror. “Are you a member of Tanjung Supermarket too?” I ask a woman whose head is bandaged.
She nods.
“What kind of discount did you get?”
“40%.”
I chuckle in disbelief. “And so what did you buy, anyway?”
“A machete, a saw, and a knife.”
“Are you a carpenter?”
The woman shoots me a sharp look. “They’re to kill the people up at the top.”
I swallow hard.She returns the question to me: “What percentage discount did you get?”
I answer hesitantly, “25%.”She ask again, “What did you buy?”
Suddenly, everyone in the room stops what they’re doing. They seem to be waiting for my answer.
Hesitantly and awkwardly I reply in a low voice—though there is no doubt that even those at the far end of the room can hear me. “Condoms.”
There is a moment of silence. I brace for laughter or mockery. But instead I am met with thunderous applause. The whistling does not sound like jeering. The bandaged woman gives me a thumbs-up. She remarks that resistance takes many forms—even in the bedroom. “Refusing to let a baby be born into a chaotic country like this is a strong form of resistance,” she says. I don’t get it. Well whatever. ***
June 2026
Gusti Aditya is a writer and researcher from Bantul in the province of Jogjakarta on Indonesia’s Java Island. He has conducted research on street violence in Jogjakarta and Paris. He has written essays for numerous media outlets including Kumparan Plus and Remotivi. His short stories have appeared in publications such as Kompas and Tempo. His first collection of essays is titled Jogja Bab Getih dan Klitih [Jogja Tale of Bloodshed and Street Violence] (EA Books, 2024). Membership Card (Kartu Anggota) was published in Kompas daily newspaper 2 Augustus 2026 https://ruangsastra.com/35200/kartu-anggota. Other works are available at https://play.google.com/store/search?q=%22gusti%20aditya%22&c=books.
Rate this:
#Cerpen #creativeWriting #fiction #GustiAditya #Indonesia #inspiration #Kompas #life #Literature #Police #Politics #Politik #renungan #Sastra #ShortStory #shortStories #Society #Writers #Writing -
Tormenta afuera. Dentro, Serra calma a Milan:
«Los Dioses proponen… solo piensa en tu Creador.»
Él sonríe: «Palabras sabias… desperdiciadas aquí.»
Ella elige a Grecia. Él le recuerda el convento.
Freniud irrumpe: «Todo listo»
https://fictograma.com/d/3748-crudos-capitulo-11-sabatis -
Tormenta afuera. Dentro, Serra calma a Milan:
«Los Dioses proponen… solo piensa en tu Creador.»
Él sonríe: «Palabras sabias… desperdiciadas aquí.»
Ella elige a Grecia. Él le recuerda el convento.
Freniud irrumpe: «Todo listo»
https://fictograma.com/d/3748-crudos-capitulo-11-sabatis -
Tormenta afuera. Dentro, Serra calma a Milan:
«Los Dioses proponen… solo piensa en tu Creador.»
Él sonríe: «Palabras sabias… desperdiciadas aquí.»
Ella elige a Grecia. Él le recuerda el convento.
Freniud irrumpe: «Todo listo»
https://fictograma.com/d/3748-crudos-capitulo-11-sabatis -
Tormenta afuera. Dentro, Serra calma a Milan:
«Los Dioses proponen… solo piensa en tu Creador.»
Él sonríe: «Palabras sabias… desperdiciadas aquí.»
Ella elige a Grecia. Él le recuerda el convento.
Freniud irrumpe: «Todo listo»
https://fictograma.com/d/3748-crudos-capitulo-11-sabatis -
Tormenta afuera. Dentro, Serra calma a Milan:
«Los Dioses proponen… solo piensa en tu Creador.»
Él sonríe: «Palabras sabias… desperdiciadas aquí.»
Ella elige a Grecia. Él le recuerda el convento.
Freniud irrumpe: «Todo listo»
https://fictograma.com/d/3748-crudos-capitulo-11-sabatis -
The Throne of Deep Roots: Book 2 of The Command of the Worldhold Series
The Throne of Deep Roots, the second book in Morven T. H. Borthwick’s The Command of the Worldhold series, is a sweeping work of dark epic fantasy built around ancient powers, political betrayal, war, and the consequences of choices made under pressure. The story begins in the shadow of a supernatural disaster, when the Black Sea rose as though answering an unseen will. From there, the novel follows several connected conflicts involving Eron, Belor, Seth, Elia, and the rulers of Dovaryel and Yorthmere. At the center of everything is The Command, a tiny stone with the power to make the sea obey, whose awakening attracts forces far older and more dangerous than the people carrying it fully understand.
One of the book’s strongest qualities is the depth of its world. Dovaryel, Dravarûyn, the Kor lands, and the southern mountains each have their own histories, customs, political tensions, and supernatural traditions. Borthwick doesn’t treat the setting as decoration. The world’s old wars and buried grudges actively shape what the characters believe and how they respond to one another. Titles such as Boundhand, Rootmaker, Vowblade, and Orathë also carry real social and spiritual weight. This gives the story the feeling of a history that began long before the first page. The formal, almost legendary prose suits that approach, especially in scenes involving prophecy, ritual, and ancient beings.
The characters are most compelling when they’re forced to decide what responsibility means. Belor’s Binding Art makes him powerful, but his real strength comes from his understanding that guilt can extend beyond the person who performs an act. His warning that “The blood of the fallen does not name the hand alone, but the will that sent it” captures one of the novel’s central concerns. Commands, bargains, and political decisions leave marks on everyone involved. Seth’s escape from execution, her discovery that she’s carrying Sathor’s son, and her refusal to return to the people who condemned her give her storyline a sharp emotional edge. Elia’s struggle to lead while dealing with fear, pride, and the limits of her gift makes her feel human even when the events around her reach a mythic scale.
The novel’s pacing is deliberate and immersive. Conversations, councils, journeys, and preparations for war receive nearly as much attention as battles, allowing tension to build gradually across the book. When violence arrives, particularly around the Field of Dravarûyn, it feels like the result of decisions that have been accumulating for hundreds of pages. The large cast and extensive terminology ask the reader to pay close attention, but the appendix provides useful support for navigating the Worldhold. The descriptions are often rich and solemn, creating an atmosphere in which forests, rain, stone chambers, and mountain caves seem to remember the events that happened within them.
By the end, The Throne of Deep Roots has expanded from a struggle among rulers into a confrontation with powers that reach back into the foundations of the world. Eron’s bond with The Command, the pursuit of the Thavurwyns, and the revelations beside the Deep Mirror all point toward a threat larger than the characters first imagined. Belor’s observation that “The ancient powers, once awakened, are not easily returned to sleep” works as both a warning and a summary of the book’s direction. This is a substantial, lore-heavy fantasy novel for readers who enjoy layered histories, morally complicated alliances, supernatural dread, and stories in which every victory creates a new burden. Its ending closes the immediate journey while leaving a chilling question hanging over the series: whether Vaelthar’s prison is beginning to fail.
Pages: 402 | ASIN: B0H45RJZR7
#author #book #bookRecommendations #bookReview #bookReviews #bookShelf #bookblogger #books #booksToRead #ebook #epicFantasy #fantasy #fiction #goodreads #historicalFantasy #indieAuthor #kindle #kobo #literature #MorvenTHBorthwick #nook #novel #read #reader #reading #story #TheThroneOfDeepRoots #writer #writing -
I just learned that because I was on the Rooted Magazine podcast, my book is on their page on Bookshop.org. I find that so cool!
https://bookshop.org/lists/rooted-reading-list
#Books #Bookstodon #Writing #Mississippi #NewOrleans #Fantasy #TimeTravel
-
I just learned that because I was on the Rooted Magazine podcast, my book is on their page on Bookshop.org. I find that so cool!
https://bookshop.org/lists/rooted-reading-list
#Books #Bookstodon #Writing #Mississippi #NewOrleans #Fantasy #TimeTravel
-
I just learned that because I was on the Rooted Magazine podcast, my book is on their page on Bookshop.org. I find that so cool!
https://bookshop.org/lists/rooted-reading-list
#Books #Bookstodon #Writing #Mississippi #NewOrleans #Fantasy #TimeTravel
-
I just learned that because I was on the Rooted Magazine podcast, my book is on their page on Bookshop.org. I find that so cool!
https://bookshop.org/lists/rooted-reading-list
#Books #Bookstodon #Writing #Mississippi #NewOrleans #Fantasy #TimeTravel
-
I just learned that because I was on the Rooted Magazine podcast, my book is on their page on Bookshop.org. I find that so cool!
https://bookshop.org/lists/rooted-reading-list
#Books #Bookstodon #Writing #Mississippi #NewOrleans #Fantasy #TimeTravel
-
How to Protect Yourself Against Book Marketing Scams #bookmarketingscam #writingcommunity #author #writing #amwriting #writer #indieauthor www.amazon.com/dp/1948872714
-
How to Protect Yourself Against Book Marketing Scams #bookmarketingscam #writingcommunity #author #writing #amwriting #writer #indieauthor www.amazon.com/dp/1948872714
-
How to Protect Yourself Against Book Marketing Scams #bookmarketingscam #writingcommunity #author #writing #amwriting #writer #indieauthor www.amazon.com/dp/1948872714
-
How to Protect Yourself Against Book Marketing Scams #bookmarketingscam #writingcommunity #author #writing #amwriting #writer #indieauthor www.amazon.com/dp/1948872714
-
a gentle heat
there will come a gentling heat,
#daily #DailyPoem #dailyPoetry #dailyWriting #Poem #poems #poetry #read #reading #Writing
the streets will quiet, the sleepers
dozing in their automobiles, engines
running for a time and jumping likewise
into dream; there will come a calm
like never before, all the world
holding breath that slips to sighing;
there will come a gentling heat,
the tractors idle in the field
carrying strange-shaped cargo, the
barns full of stillness, the
jungles dry, dry, dry –
we won’t see it,
there will be nothing left to see,
as civilization in all its quietude
conquers the barbarous everyday. -
a gentle heat
there will come a gentling heat,
#daily #DailyPoem #dailyPoetry #dailyWriting #Poem #poems #poetry #read #reading #Writing
the streets will quiet, the sleepers
dozing in their automobiles, engines
running for a time and jumping likewise
into dream; there will come a calm
like never before, all the world
holding breath that slips to sighing;
there will come a gentling heat,
the tractors idle in the field
carrying strange-shaped cargo, the
barns full of stillness, the
jungles dry, dry, dry –
we won’t see it,
there will be nothing left to see,
as civilization in all its quietude
conquers the barbarous everyday. -
a gentle heat
there will come a gentling heat,
#daily #DailyPoem #dailyPoetry #dailyWriting #Poem #poems #poetry #read #reading #Writing
the streets will quiet, the sleepers
dozing in their automobiles, engines
running for a time and jumping likewise
into dream; there will come a calm
like never before, all the world
holding breath that slips to sighing;
there will come a gentling heat,
the tractors idle in the field
carrying strange-shaped cargo, the
barns full of stillness, the
jungles dry, dry, dry –
we won’t see it,
there will be nothing left to see,
as civilization in all its quietude
conquers the barbarous everyday. -
a gentle heat
there will come a gentling heat,
#daily #DailyPoem #dailyPoetry #dailyWriting #Poem #poems #poetry #read #reading #Writing
the streets will quiet, the sleepers
dozing in their automobiles, engines
running for a time and jumping likewise
into dream; there will come a calm
like never before, all the world
holding breath that slips to sighing;
there will come a gentling heat,
the tractors idle in the field
carrying strange-shaped cargo, the
barns full of stillness, the
jungles dry, dry, dry –
we won’t see it,
there will be nothing left to see,
as civilization in all its quietude
conquers the barbarous everyday. -
a gentle heat
there will come a gentling heat,
#daily #DailyPoem #dailyPoetry #dailyWriting #Poem #poems #poetry #read #reading #Writing
the streets will quiet, the sleepers
dozing in their automobiles, engines
running for a time and jumping likewise
into dream; there will come a calm
like never before, all the world
holding breath that slips to sighing;
there will come a gentling heat,
the tractors idle in the field
carrying strange-shaped cargo, the
barns full of stillness, the
jungles dry, dry, dry –
we won’t see it,
there will be nothing left to see,
as civilization in all its quietude
conquers the barbarous everyday. -
Well, I've drafted 470 words of an experimental "small world" story.
It takes place in my not-small world, but the plot covers a small area, and is largely based around one establishment in one of the smallest woods on my world map.
I've also adopted a lighter writing style for it.
I'll have to see how it fares during editing a few weeks down the line. 🤔
-
Well, I've drafted 470 words of an experimental "small world" story.
It takes place in my not-small world, but the plot covers a small area, and is largely based around one establishment in one of the smallest woods on my world map.
I've also adopted a lighter writing style for it.
I'll have to see how it fares during editing a few weeks down the line. 🤔
-
Well, I've drafted 470 words of an experimental "small world" story.
It takes place in my not-small world, but the plot covers a small area, and is largely based around one establishment in one of the smallest woods on my world map.
I've also adopted a lighter writing style for it.
I'll have to see how it fares during editing a few weeks down the line. 🤔
-
Well, I've drafted 470 words of an experimental "small world" story.
It takes place in my not-small world, but the plot covers a small area, and is largely based around one establishment in one of the smallest woods on my world map.
I've also adopted a lighter writing style for it.
I'll have to see how it fares during editing a few weeks down the line. 🤔
-
Well, I've drafted 470 words of an experimental "small world" story.
It takes place in my not-small world, but the plot covers a small area, and is largely based around one establishment in one of the smallest woods on my world map.
I've also adopted a lighter writing style for it.
I'll have to see how it fares during editing a few weeks down the line. 🤔
-
Nostalgia - it's not as good as it used to be...
A couple of years ago I found a really nice little quote in an article on nostalgia that claims that it doesn't date back to when we first started writing, but a little time after when we could look back at earlier writing and misunderstand how it had been then. 😃
-
Nostalgia - it's not as good as it used to be...
A couple of years ago I found a really nice little quote in an article on nostalgia that claims that it doesn't date back to when we first started writing, but a little time after when we could look back at earlier writing and misunderstand how it had been then. 😃
-
Nostalgia - it's not as good as it used to be...
A couple of years ago I found a really nice little quote in an article on nostalgia that claims that it doesn't date back to when we first started writing, but a little time after when we could look back at earlier writing and misunderstand how it had been then. 😃
-
Nostalgia - it's not as good as it used to be...
A couple of years ago I found a really nice little quote in an article on nostalgia that claims that it doesn't date back to when we first started writing, but a little time after when we could look back at earlier writing and misunderstand how it had been then. 😃
-
New witching review! About a very historical, honest, and haunting piece of historical fiction!
#writing #amwriting #blogging #history #historicalfiction #witch
https://mistresswitchwrites.com/2026/08/06/witching-review-the-curewife-by-claire-marie-watson/
-
New witching review! About a very historical, honest, and haunting piece of historical fiction!
#writing #amwriting #blogging #history #historicalfiction #witch
https://mistresswitchwrites.com/2026/08/06/witching-review-the-curewife-by-claire-marie-watson/
-
New witching review! About a very historical, honest, and haunting piece of historical fiction!
#writing #amwriting #blogging #history #historicalfiction #witch
https://mistresswitchwrites.com/2026/08/06/witching-review-the-curewife-by-claire-marie-watson/
-
New witching review! About a very historical, honest, and haunting piece of historical fiction!
#writing #amwriting #blogging #history #historicalfiction #witch
https://mistresswitchwrites.com/2026/08/06/witching-review-the-curewife-by-claire-marie-watson/
-
Cada persona guarda una versión distinta de mí.
Para una señora sigo en la vidriería que cerró hace veinte años.
Para otros, todavía tengo treinta.
Uno cambia.
Las versiones que dejamos en...
https://fictograma.com/d/3756-soy-otro -
Cada persona guarda una versión distinta de mí.
Para una señora sigo en la vidriería que cerró hace veinte años.
Para otros, todavía tengo treinta.
Uno cambia.
Las versiones que dejamos en...
https://fictograma.com/d/3756-soy-otro -
Cada persona guarda una versión distinta de mí.
Para una señora sigo en la vidriería que cerró hace veinte años.
Para otros, todavía tengo treinta.
Uno cambia.
Las versiones que dejamos en...
https://fictograma.com/d/3756-soy-otro -
Piel de Porcelana
En el taller de Bernardo, las máscaras susurran buenas noches.
Una musa perfecta. Un molde demasiado caliente.
Y una luna roja que no perdona.
https://fictograma.com/d/3757-piel-de-pocelana -
Piel de Porcelana
En el taller de Bernardo, las máscaras susurran buenas noches.
Una musa perfecta. Un molde demasiado caliente.
Y una luna roja que no perdona.
https://fictograma.com/d/3757-piel-de-pocelana -
Piel de Porcelana
En el taller de Bernardo, las máscaras susurran buenas noches.
Una musa perfecta. Un molde demasiado caliente.
Y una luna roja que no perdona.
https://fictograma.com/d/3757-piel-de-pocelana -
Cada persona guarda una versión distinta de mí.
Para una señora sigo en la vidriería que cerró hace veinte años.
Para otros, todavía tengo treinta.
Uno cambia.
Las versiones que dejamos en...
https://fictograma.com/d/3756-soy-otro -
Cada persona guarda una versión distinta de mí.
Para una señora sigo en la vidriería que cerró hace veinte años.
Para otros, todavía tengo treinta.
Uno cambia.
Las versiones que dejamos en...
https://fictograma.com/d/3756-soy-otro -
Cada persona guarda una versión distinta de mí.
Para una señora sigo en la vidriería que cerró hace veinte años.
Para otros, todavía tengo treinta.
Uno cambia.
Las versiones que dejamos en...
https://fictograma.com/d/3756-soy-otro -
Santos se burla de Randy.
Daniel le propone matrimonio a Laura… y se come una bofetada que resuena en toda la noche.
Randy llega riendo:
Cuando nos guinden del árbol, ya tengo con quién conversar
https://fictograma.com/d/3754-marmol-capitulo-15-compay -
Santos se burla de Randy.
Daniel le propone matrimonio a Laura… y se come una bofetada que resuena en toda la noche.
Randy llega riendo:
Cuando nos guinden del árbol, ya tengo con quién conversar
https://fictograma.com/d/3754-marmol-capitulo-15-compay -
Santos se burla de Randy.
Daniel le propone matrimonio a Laura… y se come una bofetada que resuena en toda la noche.
Randy llega riendo:
Cuando nos guinden del árbol, ya tengo con quién conversar
https://fictograma.com/d/3754-marmol-capitulo-15-compay