I need to stop scrolling and write!

*continues scrolling*

it’s okay if you’re struggling to write today. some days the words flow, some days they don’t. what matters is that you showed up. your story isn’t going anywhere, and neither are you.

How to improve your writing style : a 5-steps guide.

Intro : I love the 5-steps format, don’t mind me. Again, this essay is based on my personal experience.

That’s all for me today. Since I would be entering my proofreading phase for my writing contest, the next essay would probably about proofreading (with examples from my own novel ?). Unless someone wants me to write on a specific subject first.

Gentle reminder that I’m still French and not a native so please forgive my dubious grammar and mispellings.

Great points!

Are y'all ever reading a book when something happens and you go: oohohoho like a little posh goblin?

legit all the time

a confession

last year, i published my first book.

it was one of the most nerve-wracking experiences of my life. i felt ashamed. terrified. instead of sharing the news with family and friends, i hid it, horrified that if any of them read it, they'd finally realize what a fraud i was.

writers, you know what i mean. creative pursuits and imposter syndrome go together like jam on toast, or ketchup on hotdogs, or... well, you get the picture.

lately, i've been trying to develop a healthier relationship with my writing. a positive one. creativity dies with doubt, it dies when we refuse to believe in ourselves and attempt to bury our flaws. life is flawed. it's imperfect. but there's beauty in coloring outside the lines, and so this is me practising what i preach.

this is me turning over a new leaf.

last year, i published my first book; a collection of short horror. seeing as it's nearly halloween, it seems as good a time as any to do my first real plug for it-- even if that plug is a year late.

CROOKED ANTLERS is a compendium of dark fantasy and urban legends. it blends the stylings of neil gaiman, chuck palahniuk and frank miller with the 'found footage' vibe of modern creepypastas to create horror for the digital age.

is it perfect? nah. but it is damn spooky, and that's all it ever set out to be. so if you're looking for a fresh tome of ghost stories, look no further-- i've got you covered.

oh? and if everybody else could plug their own work on this post too, that'd be great. let's tackle this imposter syndrome thing together. show me what you're cooking!

thanks and HAPPY OCTOBER!

Reblogging this again because I read this book myself earlier this year and I can absolutely recommend it to anyone who enjoys various forms of horror, speculative fiction, or just plain good writing in general. Each story in the collection is unique, entertaining, and hits the mark, often getting the reader invested in each one. It’s a perfect read for a rainy day or eerie evening.

Thank you! You are much too kind < 3

Holding my own book is an amazing feeling.... Can't wait to be holding my second soon 🙏

The key was rusty, splotched red and gray. It almost blended in with the copper-gold of the dead autumn leaves but it didn’t. It stood out to the boy.

And so the boy bent down and picked it up.

‘Lucky find,’ he said, gazing at the key with reverence. Images of great adventure played in his mind, chased by phantoms of guilt and worry. He wasn’t supposed to be wandering. Not here. Not today.

What was it his mother had said?

Something about the stars in the sky. The angle of the sun. ‘There are omens in the air,’ she’d said. ‘You get us some water from the river and you come right back, hear? Today ain’t no time for play. And keep away from that old well.’

‘Of course,’ the boy had said. He’d promised that under no circumstance would he dilly or dawdle, nor wander to that old well. She gave him a pat on the head, a kiss on his cheek, told him to give a holler if he saw anything odd, and then sent him on his way.

But this key, strange as it was, wasn’t odd. It was just a key. The world had plenty of keys. The boy had seen several of them, and never once had any of those keys caused trouble, so why should this one?

The only question was, who did it belong to? What did it open?

"Just going to read a line or two then put it on the list for later," I say--I always say.

But half an hour or more blinks away and I'm still staring at my screen with my heart in my throat.

A delight it is, every time. Thank you for sharing your spooks.

Sincerely, thanks for always sharing such encouraging comments! You're an absolute treasure, Dyre!