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Fast Track Your Financial Freedom

11 Best Places To Sell Short Stories For Money As A New Writer

Kelan Kline | Updated September 12, 2023 Make Money

Well, you are not alone – many writers need help finding ways to sell short stories and make money from their writing .

Although it can be challenging, it’s possible to turn your hobby into a source of income. With the right strategies, you can publish and sell short stories.

In this post, we’ll cover the best places to sell short stories for money and some tips and tricks to help you write short stories and also sell your short stories for money.

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Table of Contents

Quick Picks

Your writing could have a whole new gateway to earning money and having a side hustle or career you love!

Before we get into all your options, here are your best option to sell your short stories, as well as a bonus for expanding your writing career:

• Most Accessible For All Writers – Amazon KDP
• Most Variety For Writing Pieces – The Threepenny Review
• Job Site For Freelancing Career – FlexJobs

11 Best Places To Sell Short Stories For Money

From literary magazines to online marketplaces, we’ll give you the inside scoop on the best places to submit your work and offer tips to help you publish short stories.

So grab some coffee or tea, and let’s get started!

1. Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP)

• Expected Pay –  35% – 70%
• Content Size –  650 MB file size
• Main Genres –  Fiction, non-fiction, and comics

Amazon KDP is a self-publishing platform that allows writers to sell their short stories online. With KDP, you can set your prices and earn up to 70% royalties on sales. 

To get started, create an account and upload your story. Amazon KDP accepts short stories in various genres, including mystery, romance, and science fiction. 

Then start sharing your story links online to generate some sales!

However, please read the submission guidelines carefully before uploading your short story to ensure it meets the platform’s requirements.

2. Reader’s Digest

• Expected Pay – $100
• Content Size – 100 words
• Main Genres – Non-fiction

Reader’s Digest is a well-known magazine that has been around since 1922. 

While the publication is perhaps best known for its “Laughter Is the Best Medicine” section, it also accepts short story submissions. 

The publication is looking for feel-good stories with a positive message.

Being published in Reader’s Digest can help build your writing portfolio, increase your writing visibility, and lead to other opportunities in the publishing industry. 

3. The Threepenny Review

• Expected Pay –  $400 per story or article, $200 per poem or Table Talk piece
• Content Size – Critical articles: 1200 to 2500 words; Table Talk pieces: 1000 words or less; stories and memoirs: 4000 words or less; poetry: 100 lines or less
• Main Genres –  Essay, poetry, memoirs

The Threepenny Review is a widely recognized literary magazine that will pay writers for a wide variety of content. 

If you have a story that’s different from your average read, Threepenny Review is your go-to publication. 

It publishes fiction, non-fiction, poetry, and memoir, so as long as you stick to its guidelines when you submit short stories, you’ll increase your chances of getting published. 

4. Flash Fiction Online

• Expected Pay –  $80 per piece
• Content Size –  500 – 1000 words (very strict!)
• Main Genres –  Science fiction, fantasy short stories, slipstream, horror, and literary fiction

Flash Fiction Online is an online publication dedicated to publishing short works of fiction, including flash fiction, typically defined as a story that is 1,000 words or less. 

The publication accepts a variety of genres, including science fiction, horror, literary fiction, and fantasy genres.  

Keep in mind that flash fiction pieces are a specialized form of short story writing, so make sure your story is concise and impactful.

They also only accept submissions between the 1st and 21st of each month and cut it short if they accept 425, so pay attention to your calendar to get things submitted as early as possible.

5. Barrelhouse

• Expected Pay –  $50 per published article
• Content Size –  Up to 8,000 words
• Main Genres –  All genres

Barrelhouse is a literary magazine that publishes fiction, poetry, and non-fiction.  

The publication is known for its eclectic mix of styles and subject matter, making it a great option for writers experimenting with different forms and genres.

Before submitting your work, it’s crucial to read their submission guidelines carefully.

The magazine accepts submissions all year-round through Submittable, but it may take six months to hear back from them.  

• Expected Pay – Varies by short stories
• Content Size – Varies
• Main Genres – All genres

A well-known online publishing platform, Medium , allows writers to share their work with a large readership through their Partnership Program.  

You can apply to publish without the program and even start a blog to gain followers and buyers, but you can earn more passively with their partnership.

You can earn passive income by receiving a share of Medium’s revenue based on the engagement your stories receive. 

If you want to be part of the Partner Program, make sure that you meet these criteria:

• Follow the Medium publishing rules.
• Being published on Medium at least once.
• You’ll need to have at least 100 followers on Medium.

7. Duotrope

• Expected Pay – Varies
• Main Genres – Most genres

Duotrope is a popular website that connects writers with publishers through its comprehensive database. 

It’s a little different from the rest on our list because they are a paid service that can help you connect to hundreds of potential buyers and publishers!

Duotrope offers advanced search options, personalized tracking, and statistics on submission response rates. 

The website charges a monthly or yearly subscription fee, starting at only $5. There’s also a free trial for new users to get a feel for the service- and see if you can land some sales!  

8. Strange Horizons

• Expected Pay –  Varies by genre
• Content Size –  Varies by genre
• Main Genres –  Art, fiction, non-fiction, poetry, podcasts, reviews, volunteering

Strange Horizons is probably on your radar if you’re a sci-fi fan, but they can do much for you as a fantasy writer.

This award-winning online magazine publishes speculative fiction and poetry that explores the boundaries of sci-fi.

In addition to fiction and poetry, Strange Horizons includes essays, interviews, and reviews exploring the intersections of speculative fiction and social justice.

The magazine publishes new content every week, and each issue features a mix of established and emerging writers, so you have potential even as a new writer.

9. The New Yorker

• Expected Pay – Not listed on Contact Page- my research shows possible $0.17 – $0.20 per word for articles under 1,500 words
• Content Size – Not listed
• Main Genres – Humorous fiction, fiction, and poetry

Probably the most prestigious magazine, The New Yorker is notoriously difficult to get in. Being published on its pages is considered a significant accomplishment for writers!

The New Yorker is rumored to pay well and is looking for unique and thought-provoking short stories, often featuring work from established writers. 

If you make the cut and get a published story, you’ll be in good company alongside some of the most famous writers in the world. 

I did see some crazy articles that listed $1,000 – $7,500 as pay for long articles, but I couldn’t find anything to corroborate.

10. Sun Magazine

• Expected Pay – $150 for poetry; $300 for fiction and personal essays
• Content Size –  Less than 7,000 in word count
• Main Genres – Fiction, personal essays, and poetry

The Sun Magazine is a literary magazine known for its commitment to publishing high-quality writing that explores the human experience in all its complexity. 

The publication accepts short stories, poetry, and personal essays and is particularly interested in insightful, engaging, and well-written work. 

The Sun Magazine also includes interviews with writers, artists, activists, book reviews, and other features that delve into literature and the arts.

• Expected Pay – Short fiction: $0.08 – $0.10 per word (up to ~20,000 words); Serials: $0.0 6 per word (40,000 – 80,000 words) ; Fact articles: $0.09 per word; Poetry: $1 per line
• Content Size –  20,000 – 80,000 words depending on the genre
• Main Genres –  Science fiction

Analog is a science fiction magazine that has been around since 1930, making it one of the genre’s oldest and most respected publications. 

The magazine publishes short stories, serialized novels, and fact articles and is known for its focus on hard science fiction that explores scientific concepts in depth. 

Analog is particularly interested in well-researched, scientifically accurate, and thought-provoking work.

How To Write Short Stories & Sell

Short stories are a beautiful form of writing that can transport readers to imaginative worlds and deliver impactful messages.

Writing stories allows you to express yourself creatively and explore different perspectives.

But how do you make the most money with your stories?

Here are some tips on writing short stories and selling short stories for money.

Pick Popular Short Story Topics

One of the easiest ways for short story writers to connect with readers and sell their stories is to choose popular and engaging topics.

Some popular topics to make money writing short stories include romance, suspense, and horror. 

However, don’t be afraid to think outside the box when you write stories and explore unique or unconventional themes that are true to your voice as a writer.

You still want to stay true to your interests and come across as genuine to your readers, so that’s an important balance.

To choose a topic for your short story- start by considering your interests and passions and what stories you yourself like to read! 

Once you have some ideas, research to see what topics are currently popular in the market. Look for popular culture, news, or social media trends that inspire your writing. 

Learn Writing Techniques

Improving your writing techniques is important for making money selling short stories.

One way to enhance your writing skills is to read many short stories. Learn how other writers use language, structure their short stories, and develop their characters.

Analyzing the work of other writers can help you understand what makes a great story and inspire you to try new techniques in your writing.

Another way to improve your writing techniques is to take writing courses or workshops.

Online courses are widely available and can help you learn new skills from the comfort of your own home.

Use An AI Writing Program

An AI writing program like  Jasper  can be useful for writers looking to improve their writing skills and streamline their short story writing process. 

Using machine learning algorithms, Jasper can analyze your writing and provide feedback on areas where you can improve your short stories.

It can include suggestions for better word choices, more effective sentence structures, and improved pacing and plot development for your short stories. 

Jasper can also help you identify common grammar and spelling errors, helping you to produce cleaner, more polished writing.

However, be sure to check guidelines because some programs won’t accept AI-generated work- if you have it on your resume or promote it on a blog, it may disqualify you from publishing.

Pick Appropriate Submission Sites

Choosing the right submission site for your short stories is an important part of short story writing and can increase your chances of being accepted and publishing your work.

Most importantly, you need to match niches to the publication- if you only write sci-fi, don’t try to apply to magazines that don’t publish sci-fi!

You can also look at the magazines or anthologies where your favorite writers have been published, and if you have similar styles, you could break into that niche too.

When you’re looking for sites to submit short stories, read the short story submission guidelines carefully.

Each site has unique requirements, and failing to follow these guidelines can result in your work being rejected.

Pay attention to word count limits, file formats, and submission deadlines the short story publishers have set.

Consider Writing Contests

Short story competitions allow writers to showcase their skills in a competitive setting.

Participating in short story writing competitions can be a great way to gain exposure, build your writing skills, and earn recognition for your work.

Many short story contests offer cash prizes, publication opportunities, or other rewards for the winners.

Choose writing contests that align with your short story genre and writing style. Some contests are focused on specific themes or genres, while others are open to a wider range of submissions.

Enter short story competitions that accept short stories that match your interests and experience and have a track record of publishing high-quality short stories.

Entering writing contests can be a rewarding experience, and even if you don’t win, you can gain valuable feedback on your writing and connect with other writers in your community.

How much money can I make selling short stories?

Selling short stories can be a great way to earn money as a writer, but it’s important to have realistic expectations about how much you can earn when you write short stories.

The amount of money you can make selling short stories depends on various factors, including the publication you’re submitting to and the length of your story.

Some publications pay as little as $50 for stories, while others pay over $2,500 for longer pieces in more popular magazines.

What sites are best for selling short stories?

When choosing a platform to sell your short stories, it’s important to consider factors like the publication’s submission guidelines, pay rates, and audience.

Three of the best sites for selling short stories include Amazon KDP, Reader’s Digest, and Duotrope.

In addition to these three sites, many other online publications and platforms accept short story submissions. Some popular options include The New Yorker, Sun Magazine, and Analog.

Can I make money from writing poems?

Many magazines accept poetry submissions and pay for accepted work.

The amount of money you can earn for your poems will vary depending on the publication, but some magazines pay up to several hundred dollars per poem.

In addition to submitting your work to literary magazines, there are other ways to make money from writing poetry.

Some poets sell their work directly to readers through platforms like Etsy or Patreon.

Others offer their services as a freelance poet or writer on FlexJobs , writing custom poems for weddings, birthdays, and other special occasions.

Where can I find freelance writing jobs online?

Fortunately, the internet has made it easier than ever to find freelance writing jobs online. 

If you’re ready to get started, several job boards and websites specialize in connecting freelance writers with clients looking for quality content.

One popular option is  FlexJobs , a job board specializing in remote and flexible work opportunities.

FlexJobs features a variety of freelance writing jobs, from content creation and copywriting to social media management and email marketing.

Another option is  Steady , a platform connecting freelancers with businesses and individuals seeking content creation services.

Steady allows you to create a profile, list your services, and bid on projects that interest you.

Get Paid For Other Writing

There are many opportunities to write short stories and also earn for writing other things too!

Two of the most popular ways to make money writing for other things is as a freelance writer and writing a blog.

Freelance Writing

As a freelance writer , you can work with different clients and write about topics that interest you, from travel and food to technology and business.

Many businesses and publications hire freelance writers to create content for their websites, blogs, and social media accounts. 

Freelance writing, for example, can be a lucrative way to make money as a writer. And with the free workshop, Freelance Write From Home  you can get started this week!

Writing a Blog

Writers often start a blog to showcase short stories online and hone their writing skills before they sell short stories for money with online publications.

You can start your own blog , self-publish stories, and earn money through advertising, affiliate marketing, and other monetization strategies.  

Also, many businesses and individuals maintain blogs to promote their products or services, and they hire writers to create engaging and informative content for their sites. 

Our Start Your Blog Boot Camp will help you with the tools and strategies to turn your blog into a viable income source. 

Final Thoughts

Writing short stories is an excellent place to start if you want to gain valuable experience while making a little extra cash.

By researching your market, writing a compelling story, proofreading , and submitting to multiple markets, you can set yourself up to succeed when you sell short stories for money.

Not only can you get paid by selling short stories, but you can also earn passive income as a blogger or work for blogs as a freelance writer!

So why not take your writing hobby to the next level? Start making money writing short stories today or consider finding freelance writing jobs on FlexJobs .

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About Kelan Kline

Hi, I'm Kelan Kline! A personal finance expert, entrepreneur, and passionate money nerd. With my bachelor's degree in business and finance, my drive in life is to help others learn how to make money online, create passive streams of income, and reach financial freedom! I have been featured in online publications like Forbes, TIME, USA Today, Huffington Post, Business Insider, Marie Claire, CNBC, Acorns, The Penny Hoarder, Bankrate, Nerd Wallet, Yahoo Finance, MSN, GoBankingRates, Her Money, Thrive Global, The Simple Dollar, Money Crashers, Readers Digest, FinCon, Best Company, Rent Cafe, Romper, Intuit Turbo, Opp Loans, CreditCards.com, Debt.com, Discover, LifeLock, Quick Sprout, Money Geek and many more! Click here to read all of my posts.

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Sell Short Stories For Money (35 HIGH PAYING Sites In 2024)

What if I told you that you could sell short stories for money?

Are you asking: Where can I sell my stories or where to sell stories, or even, how to sell my story online?

Confession: I often write short stories about my little cat 🙂

If you have a flair for writing short stories, I’m going to tell you how you can get paid to write short stories.

Suppose you are worried about how to earn money by writing stories and where can I sell my stories online. Let me ease your mind.

Keep on reading this post and find out how you can earn money by writing short stories online to pay your bills!

You don’t have to worry about being the best writer. As long as you have a great storyline, there is bound to be a publication below that will accept and pay you for it.

Selling stories is an easy way to make money and gain some exposure if you’re looking to create a name for yourself. 

In time, you can even generate enough income from selling stories online to make it into a side hustle .

You just need to take the first step, and I’m here to show you how can you sell short stories for money.

35 Story Writing Sites That Pays Well !

1. Asimov’s

2. the new yorker, 3. the sun magazine, 4. the atlantic, 5. clarkesworld magazine, 6. apex magazine, 7. one story, 8. boulevard magazine, 9. cricket magazine, 10. gray’s sporting journal, 11. bourbon penn, 12. alfred hitchcock’s mystery magazine, 13. reader’s digest, 14. reader’s digest asia, 15. bella magazine, 16. take a break, 17. real people magazine, 18. introvert dear, 19. healthy mummy, 20. the american scholar, 21. virginia quarterly review, 22. apparition lit, 23. smokelong , 24. fantasy and science fiction  , 25. write city magazine  , 26. dark magazine, 27. sand journal, 28. the threepenny review, 29. harper’s magazine, 30. clarkesworld, 31. strange horizons  , 32. longleaf review, 33. lightspeed magazine.

34. Uncanny 

35. Pulp Literature

Some of the links on here are affiliate links and I may earn if you click on them, AT NO EXTRA cost to you. Hope you find the information here useful! Thanks.

Where To Sell Short Stories For Money (35 Best Sites)

If you’re wondering ‘where can I sell my short stories online’, start making money from short stories from these 35 sites:

A science fiction magazine that pays 8–10 cents per word.

No introduction is needed, this is possibly the most profitable magazine in the world. They have a huge and loyal readership.

They accept unsolicited works and getting published in their magazine is the winning prize.

The Sun Magazine is another publication that needs no introduction. They will pay writers to write both fiction and non-fiction and also poetry.

Non-fiction and fiction pieces start from $300 to $2,000 whereas poetry ranges from $100 to $250.

The Atlantic is another prestigious magazine that will accept your short stories and poetries. Expect to be paid professional rates if accepted.

A science fiction and fantasy magazine that will pay you 12 cents per word for short stories.

If you have a knack for writing darker fiction, Apex pays up to 8 cents per word up to 7,500.

A literary magazine that publishes stories between 3,000 and 8,000 words. They pay $500 for each story.

This literary magazine encourages new writers to submit their work for a payment of $100-$300 .

Sell short stories for money wit Cricket Magazine. This publication has many literary magazines under its wing and caters to young readers up to 14 years old. The payment is a lucrative 25 cents per word .

This outdoor sporting activities magazine publishes short stories that are of high quality and will pay you an average of $600 for a 750 to 1,500-word piece.

This magazine will accept odd and highly imaginative short stories. Payment is 3 cents per word.

This magazine is the leader in short-form crime and mystery fiction and encourages new writers to submit their work. Expect to be paid between 5 – 8 cents per word.

Not a fan of fiction? I got you. You can still sell story online to these magazines that will publish nonfiction stories and pay you for it.

You could have your piece in the world-famous Reader’s Digest. Send them a true story about you, in 100 words or less, and get paid $100 for it.

Reader’s Digest Asia is an extension of Reader’s Digest and they have a couple of categories that they need writers regularly for:

-Inspiring stories or life-changing experiences

800 to 1,000 words for the price of $250 per published stories

-Acts of kindness

100 to 500 words for up to $100

-Anecdotes and jokes  

Around $50 to $100

-Tales of your amazing animals  

Up to 300 words for pay up to $100

Get paid up to $1000 when you share your personal story with Bella Magazine.

Send them a brief outline and someone from the magazine will contact you for further details.

If you sell your story to Take A Break, you could earn up to $2,000.

It’s really easy too, head on to their website where you fill in an online form . You have to send them a brief outline and voila!

Real People Magazine will buy your story for a fee. How much that is, I can’t say.

The magazine does a full interview with you (usually over the phone), asks you to provide relevant details, and pays you a fee that is agreed upon by both parties.

Here’s a really cool one.

Introvert Dear publish articles about introversion. They also look for articles about Highly Sensitive People on their new website, Highly Sensitive Refuge.

If they publish your piece, you could make $75

You can earn $100 by submitting your transformation story to Healthy Mummy!

Tell the readers about your journey and include good quality photos to show your transformation.

 All you super mama’s out there, this is your time to shine even more than you already do.

This is a quarterly magazine that publishes articles on public affairs, literature, science, history, and culture. They pay up to $500 for non-fiction submissions.

This reputable literary magazine accepts non-fiction pieces such as personal essays, memoirs, and literary journalism. They will pay around 25 cents per word.

Here Are More Websites That Pay You To Write Short Stories

Where can I post my stories and get paid for my short stories under the fantasy, sci-fi, and horror genres? Look no further than Apparition Lit.

This site accepts submissions for poems and short stories ( 1000-5000 words) every quarter of the year. They only accept one submission at a time.

Apparition Lit pays $0.05 per word , with a minimum of $50 for short stories and $50 per poem.

Submit your stories to Apparition Lit here.

If you are looking for where to publish short stories online for money, you can send your submission to SmokeLong . They pay $100/story upon publication in their quarterly issue.

They accept short stories of flash narratives, fiction, non-fiction, or a hybrid of up to 1000 words.

Fantasy and Science Fiction are among the many short story publishers that pay for fiction stories. 

They prefer character-oriented stories in any genre, anything from science fiction, humor, fantasy, horror, or even humor. 

Your stories can be up to 25,000 words. Fantasy and Science Fiction pay 8 to 12 cents per word on acceptance.

Write City Magazine is a Chicago Writer’s Association (CWA) publication where you can submit stories for money.

They pay $50 for CWA members and $25 for non-members for stories no longer than 1800 words.

Your short stories can be fiction or creative non-fiction, but they need to follow specific story elements listed in their submission guideline .

The Dark is an online magazine that publishes monthly horror and Dark Fantasy stories.

You can submit your short story online to the magazine, as they welcome submissions from all writers. 

Original fiction stories are paid 5 cents per word on publication. Stories can be up to 6000 words.

So, if you have a talent for writing horror stories that are not graphic or violent horror, sell your story online to The Dark magazine.

If you are looking for story writing platforms that pay for authors who bring a fresh and underrepresented perspective, then you can write stories for money with SAND.

This publisher out of Berlin aims to give authors with underrepresented circumstances a chance to have a voice in the literary and art scene.

You can submit your short stories for submission, but due to their team being made entirely out of volunteers, the response can take up to 6 months . 

SAND pays a rate of 1 to 4.9 cents per word. Thus, you can expect a 3000 -short story to be paid between $30 to $150 . 

The Threepenny Review publishes quarterly journals with short stories, poems, and essays. 

They are open to accepting submissions for their journals up until April each year.

You can get paid for short stories through online submissions and mail manuscripts. Accepted stories are paid $400 . 

The recommended length for a short story is 4000 words.

If you are looking for magazines that pay for short stories, Harper’s Magazine accepts submissions for non-fiction and fiction manuscripts to be published in their magazine.

You can get paid, on average, $0.70 a word, and all submissions and queries must be sent by mail to:

Harper’s Magazine

666 Broadway, 11th Floor

New York, NY 10012

Ever wanted to make money with short stories about science fiction and fantasy? Do you love to geek out about the science behind science fiction?

Selling a short story filled with sci-fi and fantasy is possible with Clarkesworld Magazine. The magazine publishes monthly fiction and non-fiction stories and articles under the science fiction and fantasy genre.

You must be wondering how non-fiction can exist in a science fiction genre. 

The magazine accepts articles about the reading experience and the writing process of science fiction.

What won’t make the cut are things like your experiences of alien abduction O_O (this was literally from their guideline) or any sci-fi convention reports.

The pay rate is 12 cents per word for fiction pieces between 1000-22,000 words. For non-fiction, the rate is 10 cents with a 2500 word limit.

If you are looking for more story writing websites that pay for science fiction pieces, try submitting your short stories to Strange Horizons.

This weekly online magazine publishes stories, reviews, poetry, and more on speculative fiction (science fiction, fantasy, horror, slipstream, and fantastika )

For fiction pieces, the rate is 10 cents per word with a word limit of 10,000 , while for non-fiction , payments are between $20 to $150, depending on the type of written contribution.

For those writers who love weird and creative fiction, you can publish stories online for money with Longleaf Review. 

They publish quarterly themed journals online and accept submissions for flash or short fiction, poetry, and creative non-fiction.

Accepted work will receive $20 ; read the Longleaf Review submission guidelines here .

Wondering where can I sell short stories about mythical creatures, folktales, sword-and-sorcery, and urban tales?

Digital science fiction and fantasy magazines like Lightspeed are one of many websites that pay you to write stories for them.

Lightspeed pays 8 cents a word for your short fiction stories with a word count of 1500-10,000 .

34. Uncanny 

If you can write new or classic speculative science fiction and fantasy fiction stories, you can sell your stories online to Uncanny.

This bi-monthly sci-fi/fantasy online magazine is always seeking stories that evoke strong emotions and challenge their readers’ beliefs.

Their rate is 10 cents per word for original, unpublished speculative fiction stories between 750-10,000 words. 

Submissions are not always open, but you can follow Uncanny’s social media for submission updates. 

35. Pulp Literature 

Pulp Literature magazine publishes digest-sized inexpensive paperback magazines of all genres (they also sell digital copies of the magazine).

How to publish a story online and get paid with Pulp Literature? You can submit your short fiction stories through their submission form. 

It is recommended that the stories are under 5000 words for a higher chance of acceptance. 

Here are Pulp Literature’s rates for short stories:

$0.05 – $0.08 per word for stories up to 5000 words.

$0.03 – $0.06 per word for stories between 5000 and 10,000 words.

$0.02 – $0.04 per word for stories over 10,000 words.

If you are having trouble knowing how to apply to freelance writing websites and how to come across as more experienced, so you can get paid higher.

I can recommend a super-duper freelance writing course I took, which helped me land 3 new clients in 3 weeks .

I spent ages googling FREE information and googling articles (like you are doing now) and I needed to keep my costs down as I wasn’t being paid for my writing just yet.

But I got sick of reading conflicting or confusing information and took the freelance writing course .

It taught me how to pitch to new clients and come across as experienced. Just look at this review:

I also learned how to set up a freelance writing website, where to find jobs, and what to charge.

The  Write to $1K course has a 30-day template you just need to follow to get to your first $1k from writing.

If you are ever going to invest in one writing course – please let it be this one . It’s the most useful thing you can do if you want to know how to be a freelance writer with no experience.

There is no way you will finish the 30 days and not win a new client. Her training is THAT good. And I am not making this up, because I took the course myself.

Make Money From Short Story Writing Contests

You can also make a handsome sum by applying to short story contests.

A few notable publications have these contests, and they’re quite common.

*Disclaimer: The cash prize and or other supplementary prizes listed below are those known to me at the time of writing this article. They are subject to change.

Here are a few short story competitions:

• Harper’s Bazaar Short Story Competition

Harpers Bazaar invites entries of up to 2,200 words.

They have a theme each year and the winner of this year’s competition won a  two-night stay at the historic Grantley Hall in Yorkshire, England, and had their work published in the magazine. 

• Scottish Arts Club Short Story Award

The winner of this contest received $1,260 ! The second prize won $640 and the third prize is $320.

The top 20 were published in the Scottish Arts Club Anthology. Not bad, eh?

Howard Frank Mosher Short Fiction Prize

• Ran by Hunger Mountain, this competition offers its winner a $1,000 cash prize and publication.
• Stories had to be around 8,000 words in length. There was a $20 entry fee. 

I don’t know about you but I might enter one of these competitions myself to make a quick buck or maybe even win a nice trip somewhere.

How To Sell Short Stories On Amazon?

Still not sure how to sell short stories online? I’m going to let you in on a little secret. 

If you’re not too keen on having your pieces published in magazines or stories being bought, you can publish short stories online for money.

That’s right, you can be your own publisher with the help of Amazon. 

Amazon gives you the option to sell digital and print copies of your work. This way, you can publish short stories for money.

The company makes it easy to upload and format your story on its website. 

They print and ship the copies on demand for you, so all you have to do is follow their guidelines and upload your piece.

Easy, and just like that, you’re published. 

Depending on the purchase price you set and the plan you opt for when you decide to self-publish, you can earn anywhere from 35%-70% of the purchase price. 

What’s great about publishing on Amazon is that you don’t have to figure out the logistics of printing and shipping.

There’s a huge demand for ebooks these days.

Specifically, Amazon’s “short reads” section. These are books that have less than 100 pages to them.

Publishing on Amazon also means you make money in perpetuity. 

 When you sell a short story to a publisher, you’ll get a one-time payment.

But with Amazon, you receive the payout from the royalty every time a copy of your story is bought. 

Factor in the fact that your piece will be available on the biggest online marketplace?

That’s a great deal to sell short stories for money if I can say so myself.

What Are Short Stories? 

To understand how to make money selling short stories, we should take a look at what are short stories.

According to various online sources and the encyclopedia, a short story is a short work of fiction or nonfiction that is shorter than a novel or longer than a fable.

So, essentially a piece of literature that typically takes a short amount of time to read from start to finish or one that is self-contained.

Some categories of short stories include but are not limited to:

• Novelettes – A novelette can easily be described as a short novella or long short story. A novelette falls in the range of 7,500 to 19,999 words. 
• Flash Fiction – Is an umbrella term used to refer to very short works of fiction that provide a compelling story and range between 1,000 words or less.

But what makes a good story?

What sets apart Mark Twain, Edgar Allen Poe, and the average writer?

The foundation of a good story can be comprised of 5 key elements:

• A plot: 

Short stories -being so short, only have room for one plot in the storyline. One and a half if you’re going to squeeze in a twist. 

• A theme: 

Short story themes should be clear and impactful.

• Characters:

Great stories have great characters but this can take a long time to develop. Keep your characters exciting and limited.

• A time frame: 

Most short stories can be read in a single sitting or a brief span of time. They focus on a limited amount of time within the plot.

• A setting:  

Where does your story take place?

Is it someplace new to the readers?

Think about how JK Rowling’s Harry Potter took off. It was a completely different world, one unlike any other we’d seen in the literary world.

You should familiarize yourself with this before learning how to sell story online.

So far, we’ve covered what a short story is and what makes a good short story, but who would buy these stories and why?

Before we can sell short stories for money, let’s look into why people would buy short stories.

People buy short stories for numerous reasons. The main one is content.

Publishers, Magazines, Websites, Bloggers, heck anyone who needs content would buy a short story. This is where you should sell your short stories.

Magazines for instance, are made up of hundreds of pieces written by different writers.

They’re always in need of content and by submitting short stories to a magazine, you could make money for your short stories and reach a huge audience.

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Now that you know where to submit short stories for money, let’s get started and make money writing short stories.

Hold your horses, amigos. Before you start anything, it’s always good to look at what sells. 

You can look at what’s selling and hitch a ride on the bandwagon or you could find what’s missing in the market and pave your own way. 

Some of the best selling short read categories are:

  Romance, erotika, thriller, suspense, and scifi-fantasy.

How Much Can I Sell A Short Story For?

This isn’t a get rich overnight scheme, (well not this section at least. I’ll let you be the judge of that a little later on in the article), but you can have a lucrative side hustle or make a decent income by writing short stories for money .

How much you make when you write short stories for money is dependent on the magazine or publisher you pitch to or the short contest you enter (this is the get rich overnight thing I was telling you about).

Each magazine offers different rates for submissions.

Publications will buy a story as a whole or pay you word for word.

Magazines are a great place to submit short stories for money and earn money writing fiction online.

Tips To Succeed Selling Short Stories Online

We’ve learned how to make money writing short stories online, places to sell short stories and even the elements that go into writing a great story.

But that’s not all I have for you, my dear readers.

I want you to succeed, side hustle, or main revenue.

If you want to make money selling short stories, here are some extra tips to increase your chances of making that happen:

• Get some online training to become a freelance writer

I took this awesome course that taught me how to improve my writing, pitch to new clients, where to find jobs, and most importantly, it has a 30-day template you just need to follow to get to your first $1k.

I used this to sell my writing online. You can use this to help you sell short stories for money.

• Play to your strengths:

Choose the right magazines or story selling websites to submit to.

• Stick to the guidelines : 

Most magazines won’t consider your story if you don’t follow this rule.

Be sure to follow the instructions provided by the site to the letter.

Nothing will blow your chances of getting published faster than submitting a story that doesn’t meet the guidelines. 

Pay attention here: some guidelines will specify what can or can’t be in the story (e.g. explicit sex scenes, racial and political issues, religious themes, etc.).

• Research : 

Decide which magazine you’re going to submit to and study it.

Get a feel for their tone and what kind of stories they publish. 

You can also get a good sense of their readership by seeing what kind of ads they place in their magazine. This way you can gear your content towards their readers.

• Join a group :

If you’re interested in fiction opportunities out there, join a like minded support group on Facebook or subscribe to platforms like Poets & Writers to get more ideas of where to submit.

FAQs On Sell Short Stories For Money

Can You Make Money From Short Stories?

Yes, you can make money from short stories.

Many literary magazines and online platforms pay for short story submissions.

A story can make more money than a novel because it pays per word and has proven to hold its value over time.

It also takes less time to write than a full-length novel.

Where Can I Write Stories And Get Paid?

Here are the 21 best sites to write stories and get paid:

• The New Yorker
• The Sun Magazine
• The Atlantic
• Clarkesworld Magazine
• Boulevard Magazine
• Cricket Magazine
• Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine
• Bourbon Penn
• Reader’s Digest
• Vestal Review
• Flash Fiction Online
• Clarkesworld
• Reader’s Digest Asia
• The American Scholar
• Introvert Dear
• Virginia Quarterly Review

How To Sell Stories Online?

Some tips to sell stories online:

• Write a great story with an interesting plot
• Find publications that fit your genre and writing style to submit to
• Platforms like Duotrope and Poets and Writers are where to sell short stories online
• Follow submission guidelines to submit your work
• Be patient waiting to hear back from the editors

How To Sell Your Story?

This is how to sell a story:

• Memoirs : Submit your memoir to literary agents or publishers who specialize in non-fiction.
• Personal essays : These are shorter pieces about a specific time or aspect of your life. 
• Film/ TV adaptation : Reach out to producers/ companies to see if they’re interested in adapting your story into a film or TV show.

Who Buys Short Stories?

Many outlets buy short stories to publish on their website and platforms. 

• Magazines & online platforms : Your best chances of being paid are here. Most accept submissions all year round
• Kindle & Ebooks : You can sell your stories directly to readers without going through an agent
• Podcasts like Clarkesworld Magazine are dedicated to telling stories in audio form. 

How Much Do Short Stories Sell For?

How much short stories sell for depends on where you sell the story and who you sell it to.

Publishers usually pay anywhere from 5 – 25 cents per word.

Literary magazines can pay $100 – $1000 for a story, while some online platforms and smaller publications may only pay $5 as a token. 

How To Make Money From Writing Stories?

Here are 9 ways you can make money from writing stories:

• Sell stories to magazines
• Self-publish on Amazon
• Submit stories to contests and anthologies
• Create a short stories blog
• Create a Patreon account
• Sell a collection of short stories online
• Write on Medium
• Ghostwrite stories for other people
• Write short stories for gaming companies

How To Sell Your Story To A Magazine?

Here are 5 steps for selling your story to a magazine:

• Find magazines that might be interested in your story
• Write a strong pitch summarizing your story and why it’s a good fit
• Submit your story according to the guidelines given
• Follow up with the editor after a few weeks
• If accepted, try to negotiate payment

How To Sell My Story For Cash?

Here are 5 ways you can sell your story for cash:

• Pitch your story to reporters or major news outlets
• Submit your story to magazines 
• Self-publish your story as an e-book on Amazon
• Look for websites that pay for short stories like Wattpad
• Negotiate a book deal with publishers or agents

How To Earn Money By Writing Stories?

If you are looking for ways how to earn money by writing stories, here are some of the best ways to make money writing stories.

• Publish on your blog.
• Write for content writing service.
• Make an e-book
• Do freelance writing jobs.
• Submit your pieces to magazines or journals.
• Submit to online publications.

Is Story Writing Profitable? 

Is story writing profitable? Yes, it is possible to get paid by writing short stories or novels. 

You can go with traditional publishing, where you can get advance payment for your book and collect royalties from your published work.

You can also sell your short stories to online publications or magazines.

Start To Sell Short Stories For Money Now!

Many people ask ‘where can I sell my short stories’? There you have it: 35 sites that pay for writing stories.

I hope this article has shown you that you can sell short stories for money as well as how to sell a short story.  

It definitely isn’t a get-rich-quick scheme (I guess it is if you won all the writing competitions you entered). 

But with magazines looking for new content, self-publishing and our need as humans to consume information in short amounts of time, there’s definitely a growing interest in the industry.

People want to read more even though they have less time, and you can solve that problem with your short stories. The people get to read, and you get to make more selling your stories. 

I’d say that’s a win-win situation 🙂 

Related articles on Freelance Writing: 

• Is Upwork Good For Beginners? +Tips To Land First Client!
• Upwork Test Answers: Ace The Test With Flying Colours!
• 15 Upwork Tips For Beginners [Personal Experience!]
• Freelance Writing For Beginners-8 Steps to Get Hired

Freelance Writing Courses That Will Transform You Into A Six-Figure Writer

• 21 Most Profitable Freelance Writing Niches

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Top 150 Short Story Ideas

by Joe Bunting | 131 comments

Do you want to write but just need a great story idea? Or perhaps you have too many ideas and can’t choose the best one? Well, good news. We’ve got you covered.

Below are 150 short story ideas for all your favorite genres. You can use them as a book idea, as writing prompts for writing contests , for stories to publish in literary magazines , or just for fun!

Editor’s note: This is a recurring guide, regularly updated with ideas, new story prompts, and information.

If you're in a hurry, here's my 10 best story ideas in brief, or scroll down for the full version.

Top 10 Story Ideas

• Tell the story of a scar.
• A group of children discover a dead body.
• A young prodigy becomes orphaned.
• A middle-aged woman discovers a ghost.
• A woman who is deeply in love is crushed when her fiancé breaks up with her.
• A talented young man's deepest fear is holding his life back. 
• A poor person comes into an unexpected fortune.
• A shy, young woman unexpectedly bumps into her soulmate.
• A long journey is interrupted by a disaster.
• A young couple stumble into the path of a psychopath.

Get The Write Structure here »

Table of Contents

Why Creative Writing Prompts Are Helpful How to Write a Story General Story Ideas Thriller Story Ideas Mystery Story Ideas Romance Story Prompts Sci-fi Story Ideas Fantasy Story Ideas Horror Story Prompts

Why Creative Writing Prompts Are Helpful

Below, you'll find our best creative writing prompts and plot ideas for every genre, but first, why do we use prompts? Is it just a waste of time, or can they actually help you? Here are three reasons we  love writing prompts at The Write Practice:

1. Practice the language!

Even for those of us who are native English speakers, we're all working to improve how we use our language. To make progress, you have to practice, and at The Write Practice, believe it or not, we're really into practice! Creative writing prompts are easy, fun ways to practice.

2. When you have no ideas and are stuck.

Sometimes, you want to write, but you can't think up any ideas. You could either just sit there, staring at a blank page, or you could find a few ideas to help you get started. Even better if the list of ideas is curated from our best plot ideas over the last decade that we've been publishing lessons, writing exercises, and prompts.

Use the story ideas below to get your writing started. Then when your creativity is warmed up, you'll start to come up with your own ideas!

3. To develop your own ideas.

Maybe you do have an idea already, but you're not sure it's good. Or maybe you feel like it's just missing some small piece to make it better. By reading other ideas, and incorporating your favorites into your   story, you can fill your plot holes and generate creative ideas of your own.

Use the story ideas below to develop your own ideas.

4. They're fun!

Thousands of writers use the prompts below every month, some at home, some in classrooms, and even a few pros at their writing “office.” Why? Because writing prompts can be fun. They get your creativity started, help you come up with new ideas of your own, and often take your writing in new, unexpected directions.

Use the plot ideas to have more fun with writing!

How to Write a Story

One last thing before we get to the 100 story ideas, let’s talk about how to write a great short story . (Already know how to write a great story? No problem. Just skip down to the ideas below.)

• First, read stories. If you’ve never read a story, you’re going to have a hard time writing one. Where do you find great stories? There are a lot of places, but check out our list of  46 Literary Magazines  we’ve curated over here .
• Write your story in a single sitting. Write the first draft of your story in as short a time as possible, and if you’re writing a short story , try to write it in one sitting. Trust me, this works. Everyone hates being interrupted when they’re telling compelling stories. Use that to your advantage and don’t stop writing until you’ve finished telling yours.
• Read your draft. Read your story through once, without changing anything. This will give you a sense of what work it needs going forward.
• Write a premise. After reading your first draft, get your head around the main idea behind your story by summarizing your story in a one sentence premise. Your premise should contain four things: a character, a goal, a situation, and a special sauce. Not sure what that means or how to actually do that? Here’s a full premise writing guide .
• Write, edit, write, and edit. Good writing is rewriting. Use your second draft to fill in the plot holes and cut out the extraneous scenes and characters you discovered when you read the first draft in step #2. Then, polish up your final draft on the next round of edits.
• Submit! Real writers don’t keep their writing all to themselves. They share it. Submit your story to a literary magazine , an anthology series , enter it into a writing contest , or even share it with a small group of friends. And if it gets rejected, don’t feel bad. You’ll be in good company.

Want to know more? Learn more about how to write a great short story here .

Our 150 Best Short Story Ideas, Plot Ideas, and Creative Writing Prompts

Ready to get writing? Here are our 100 best short story ideas to kickstart your writing. Enjoy!

10 Best General Short Story Ideas

Our first batch of plot ideas are for any kind of story, whether a spy thriller or a memoir of your personal life story. Here are the best story ideas:

• Tell the story of a scar, whether a physical scar or emotional one. To be a writer, said Stephen King, “The only requirement is the ability to  remember every scar .”
• A group of children discover a dead body. Good writers don’t turn away from death, which is, after all, the  universal human experience. Instead, they look it directly into its dark face and describe what they see on the page.
• A young prodigy becomes orphaned. Orphans are uniquely vulnerable, and as such, they have the most potential for growth.
• A middle-aged woman discovers a ghost. What do Edgar Allen Poe, Ron Weasley, King Saul from the Bible, Odysseus, and Ebenezer Scrooge have in common? They all encountered ghosts!
• A woman who is deeply in love is crushed when her fiancé breaks up with her. “In life every ending is just a new beginning,” says Dakota Fanning’s character in Uptown Girls.
• A talented young man’s deepest fear is holding his life back. Your character’s biggest fear is your story’s secret weapon. Don’t run from it, write about it.
• A poor young boy or girl comes into an unexpected fortune. Not all fortunes are good. Sometimes discovering a fortune will destroy your life.
• A shy, young woman unexpectedly bumps into her soulmate (literally bumps into him). In film, this is called the “meet cute,” when the hero bumps into the heroine in the coffee shop or the department store or the hallway, knocking her books to the floor, and forcing them into conversation.
• A long journey is interrupted by a disaster. Who hasn’t been longing to get to a destination only to be delayed by something unexpected? This is the plot of  Gravity ,  The Odyssey , and even  Lord of the Rings .
• A young couple run into the path of a psychopath. Monsters, whether people who do monstrous things like serial killers or scaly beasts or a monster of a natural disaster, reveal what’s really inside a person. Let your character fall into the path of a monster and see how they handle themselves.

Now that you have an idea, learn exactly what to do with it.  Check out my new book The Write Structure which helps writers take their ideas and write books readers love. Click to check out  The Write Structure  here.

More Short Story Ideas Based on Genre

Need more ideas? Here are ideas based on whichever literary genre you write. Use them as character inspiration, to start your own story, or borrow pieces to generate your own ideas. The only rule is, have fun writing!

By the way,  for more story writing tips for each these plot types, check out our full guide to the 9 types of stories here .

20 Thriller Story Ideas

A thriller is any story that “thrills” the reader—i.e., gets adrenaline pumping, the heart racing, and the emotions piqued.

Thrillers come in all shapes and forms, dipping freely into other genres. In other words, expect the unexpected!

Here are ten of my favorite thriller story ideas :

• She just started a new job when a cryptic message comes across her desk that she can't ignore.
• An undercover agent is in a race against time to find out who is behind a pate of disappearances.
• A stuntman realizes the star is a target of a conspiracy theorist on set and their life is in danger.
• A government agent arrests the wrong man and he begs his wife to find evidence before he becomes the scapegoat for a coverup.
• Murder victims keep appearing at a popular tourist destination. She must find out who's behind it in this action thriller.
• A new neighbor seems friendly enough until a series of unsettling events rattles the neighborhood.
• A thriller writer's compelling characters begin showing up in real life crime scenes, and they become the prime suspect.
• Mysterious circumstances always surrounded the sudden retirement of a megastar, until a nosy investigative journalist uncovers a clue that would unravel everything.
• Artificial intelligence took his job after he created the very code that launched the company into eye-popping profitability. And now he's out for revenge.
• A criminal mastermind has shut down essential services in the city, and only a retired recluse of a hacker can stop him. If they can convince him to take the case.

Click for ten more thriller short story ideas

25 Mystery Story Ideas

Enjoy a good whodunit? Then you’ll love these mystery story ideas .

Here are a few of my favorites, but find the rest here :

• A librarian happens across a crime scene when they clean the basement archives.
• A murder mystery party goes wrong and potential suspects point at each other to avoid arrest. (Especially effective if set in an enclosed location.
• A secret society of mystery readers realizes that there is a real killer still on the loose and the clues are hidden in a dead author's books.
• A murder scene on a movie set becomes reality when the star is found dead, and the prime suspect discovered missing.
• A new restaurant owner in a small town uncovers a long-forgotten mystery from the town's past but the mysterious circumstances unearth a real killer.

Click for the mystery story ideas

30 Romance Story Ideas

Ready to write a love story? Or perhaps you want to create a subplot with a secondary character? We've got ideas for you!

Hint: When it comes to romance, a sense of humor is always a good idea. Have fun! Here are a few of my favorite, but find twenty more love story ideas here :

• A character's high school sweetheart shows up and it turns out the school crush feelings haven't gone away.
• Two characters find an unexpected connection during a key scene that confuses one of them.
• He gets a letter from a secret admirer and goes on a quest to uncover the identity of the sender.
• They work together and a secret romance would be a terrible idea, putting both their jobs at risk, but the pull to each other is hard to resist.
• She returns home when her family's had a tough time after the death of a parent. He's been helping them sort through the mess, and while she disagrees with how he's helping, she can't stop thinking about him.
• At their large ten year high school reunion, he asks her to dance and she slowly realizes he's the brother of someone she doesn't want to ever see again, but there's an instant connection.
• A romance writer can't find her own happily ever after until she meets…
• It's conference season and he has to present all over the country. It's usually a boring string of business trips, but when he's put on a panel with a fiesty and brilliant woman who the night before had kissed him in a bar, he knows this conference season is going to be very different.
•  It's her first road trip after a bad breakup and she's determined not to depend on anyone else until…
• A pop star and an astronaut in training meet at a benefit dinner and can't avoid each other's orbits.

Click for romance story ideas

20 Sci-Fi Story Ideas

From the minimum-wage-earning, ancient-artifact-hunting time traveller to the space-exploring, sentient dinosaurs, these sci-fi writing prompts will get you set loose your inner nerd.

Here are a few of my favorite sci-fi ideas :

• In a future society, neural implants translate music into physical pleasure, and earphones (“jacking in”) are now the drug of choice. Write either from the perspective of a music addict, OR the Sonforce agent (sonance + enforcer) who has the job of cracking down.
• It’s the year 5000. Our planet was wrecked in the great Crisis of 3500, and remaining human civilization survives only in a half dozen giant domed cities. There are two unbreakable rules: strict adherence to Life Quality (recycling doesn’t even begin to cover these laws), and a complete ban on reproduction (only the “worthy” are permitted to create new humans). Write from the perspective of a young woman who just discovered she’s been chosen to reproduce—but she has no interest in being a mother.
• So yeah, ancient Egypt really was “all that” after all, and the pyramids turn out to be fully functional spaceships (the limestone was to preserve the electronics hidden inside). Write from the perspective of the tourist exploring the ancient society who accidentally turns one on.

Click for the other seventeen sci-fi story ideas

20 Fantasy Story Ideas

Need a dose of sword-in-the-stone, hero and/or heroine packed coming-of-age glory?  We love fantasy stories!

Just try to not have fun writing (or even just reading!) these fantasy writing prompts. Here are a few of my favorite fantasy story ideas:

• Bored high school wizards decide to throw a party to celebrate tomorrow's graduation. Nothing could possibly go wrong.
• Weddings are stressful. They're especially tricky when one family is magical and the other hates spells, and both mothers want to control the celebration.
• A bored housewife wakes one day to find all her dishes are singing Hey, Jude . (Alternatively, if you want to make this a darker story, have them sing  The Sound of Silence. )
• A witch living secretly in suburbia casts a spell to speed up the laundry, but it backfires—just in time for trick-or-treaters to deal with dancing underwear.
• Capitol Hill wakes one day to find thousands of fairies protesting for better media representation. Unfortunately, no one can understand what they're saying.
• A fed-up genie, sick of being over-sexualized and paid in wishes, throws a magical tantrum which turns everyone in the world into the opposite gender.
• One bright morning in May, all domestic pets start talking.
• Eating food turns one's skin the same color as one's last ingested item, which makes cheating on diets a challenge of strategy as well as taste.
• Giants are REALLY into reality TV, and one day stomp down from their hidden mountain homes to convince Hollywood to create a show about them.
• Mythological creatures, tired of being portrayed as gym rats, confront their creators on a popular combative talk show.

Click for the fantasy story ideas

20 Horror Story Prompts

• Three college students take a final road trip during spring break of their senior year, not knowing that each of them harbors a dark secret about one of their college professors who was murdered in the fall. As revelations begin to stack up, they each begin to suspect the other.
• A quiet golf community is upended after a series of grisly murders begin happening on the greens, and a golf pro's seemingly perfect life begins to unravel with each body they find. She isn't the killer, but she has a terrifying idea of who might be.
• A police officer on terminal leave before retirement finds himself in a bar where he suddenly realizes the art on the walls shifts and reveals pictures of serial killers from the last twenty years. And his best friend and former partner, who is still on active duty, is there on the wall too.
• A grieving daughter revisits the libraries and locations where her famous horror writer mother penned her most famous works. And finds out her mother's stories weren't quite the fiction everyone believes.
• A teacher returns to teach at the school where they attended to find that their entire class is made up of the children of every bully and enemy from their life. But no one claims to remember them.
• A cursed siren hunts a fishing village looking for the boat and man that killed her true love.
• A hoarder dies and the mother-daughter team hired to clean up the mess discover a dead body and the horror of how it all began might connect to a shape-shifting monster from their own family.
• A yacht party veers off course during a summer squall and lands on an island. Their relief gives way to terror as they realize they aren’t alone and worse, they’re prey.
• Radioactive scorpions escape from a lab and begin to attack a small desert town.
• An experimental romance rehab resort goes into lockdown after a therapist and a participant are found dismembered and clawed to shreds on the beach. But the threat is inside the compound.

Ten more spine-tingling horror story prompts here . 

The Secret to Choosing the Best Story Idea

Stories, more than any other artistic expression, have the power to make people care. Stories have the ability to change people’s lives.

But to write a great story, a life-changing story, don’t just write about what your characters did, said, and saw. Ask yourself, “Where do I fit in to this story? What is my personal connection to this story?”

Robert Frost said this:

If you can connect your personal story to the story you’re writing, you will not only be more motivated to finish your story, you might just be able to change the lives of your readers.

Next Step: Write Your Best Story

No matter how good your idea, writing a story or a book can be a long difficult process. How do you create an outline, come up with a great plot, and then actually  finish  it?

My new book  The Write Structure  will help. You'll learn how to take your idea and structure a strong plot around it. Then you'll be guided through the exact process I've used to write dozens of short stories and over fifteen books.

You can learn more about   The Write Structure  and get your copy here.

Have a great short story idea?  We'd love to hear it. Share it in the comments !

Choose one of these ideas and write a short story in one sitting (aim for 1,000 words or less!). When you're finished, share your story in the Pro Practice Workshop (or our latest writing contest ) for feedback from the community. And if you share, please be sure to comment on a few stories by other writers.

Joe Bunting

Joe Bunting is an author and the leader of The Write Practice community. He is also the author of the new book Crowdsourcing Paris , a real life adventure story set in France. It was a #1 New Release on Amazon. Follow him on Instagram (@jhbunting).

Want best-seller coaching? Book Joe here.

Work with Joe Bunting?

WSJ Bestselling author, founder of The Write Practice, and book coach with 14+ years experience. Joe Bunting specializes in working with Action, Adventure, Fantasy, Historical Fiction, How To, Literary Fiction, Memoir, Mystery, Nonfiction, Science Fiction, and Self Help books. Sound like a good fit for you?

131 Comments

“No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise for the writer, no surprise for the reader.” —Robert Frost

Great quote, right?

Your site is just awesome!

asome i rily like that

My latest project has been working on a TV-format screenplay. In TV writing, there are B storylines, which are plot lines that span the course of a season (or several seasons). Each episode, however, has an A storyline, which is the plot of the events in that particular episode. Each A storyline is essentially a short story, and churning them out is surprisingly difficult! Lately I’ve been outlining episodes for my own story. I’ve just completed one that I particularly like, and would love to hear what you all think!

The Vampire Cat

The episode opens with Leiko telling the rest of the crew The Dream of Akinosuke. She finishes the story and they all head off to bed. Leiko walks Shannon to her room. On the way, Shannon asks Leiko if the events of the story were the main character’s dreams or if they were real. Leiko replies that for the Japanese the line between dreams and reality is very thin. They say goodnight and part ways.

The next day, the crew touches down on planet Lorraine. Their mission is to rob an auction house of a valuable piece of art if their client is not able to purchase it. They attend the auction. The client is outbid, so that night they return to the auction house to steal the sculpture. While looking for it, Leiko uncovers a dimension hopping machine, which she assumes to be a piece of junk. The crew is surprised by the auction house’s guards. Shannon is shot in the fight. Leiko tries to help her, but is intercepted by a guard. They fight, and Leiko falls inside the dimension hopping machine. She falls against a lever. The doors to the machine close and it begins spinning very fast. Leiko is thrown to the floor and the impact knocks her unconscious.

When she awakes, Leiko is no longer in the machine or the auction house. She is in a 16th century Japanese barracks, surrounded by soldiers. Furthermore, she is dressed like them and they address her as Soda. When she catches a glimpse of her reflection, she realizes to everyone else she looks like a Japanese man. Unsure if she is dreaming or not, Leiko decides to play along. She hears from the other soldiers that the prince of the region is seriously ill, and thinks maybe with her advanced medical knowledge she can help. She sneaks into the castle to see him. On the way, she passes a group of court ladies. The most beautiful of them smiles at Leiko and her eyes flash yellow. Leiko shakes it off, assuming she must be seeing things. She reaches the prince’s room and is shocked to find Shannon lying close to death, surrounded by attendants. She is discovered and thrown out, but she begs to be told what’s happened to the prince, and is informed he has a mystery sickness no doctor can diagnose. It is feared he will die. The prince’s attendants suggest that if she is so worried about her sovereign, she should pray for his health. Before she leaves, she uses to her dagger to look at Shannon’s reflection, and sees that her reflection is in fact that of the prince. Leiko feels the whole situation is somehow strangely familiar, but unable to put her finger on why, she decides there is nothing for it but to follow the attendants’ advice.

That night she goes to the holy quarter and bathes at the well before praying to the statue of Buddha for the prince’s/Shannon’s recovery. A voice calls to her, and she looks up to see a figure in a window above her. The figure asks her to come up. Leiko goes into the building and finds a priest who introduces himself as Ruiten and tells her he has been brought to the castle to find the source of the prince’s illness and asks for her help. Leiko finally realizes why this all seems familiar to her – she is in the story of The Vampire Cat of Nabeshima, playing the part of the young soldier Ito Soda. She makes a conjecture: the dimension hopping machine really worked and has brought her to the spirit world. Shannon, after being shot, is dying, and her spirit has taken the place of the prince in the story. If Leiko saves the prince, she saves Shannon. Ruiten agrees that this may be possible. Leiko agrees to help him. Knowing how the story goes, she now has a hunch as to what is causing the prince’s sickness.

Leiko goes back to the castle, and straight to the house of the court ladies. She digs under the verandah and finds exactly what she thought she would – the body of the beautiful lady, with puncture wounds in her throat.

The next day, Ruiten obtains permission for Leiko to keep watch over the prince with his attendants. That night, all the attendants fall asleep. Leiko keeps herself awake by stabbing herself in the leg. Later in the night, the beautiful lady comes to the room. She says her name is O Toyo, and she is the prince’s favorite companion. Under Leiko’s watchful eye, she cannot harm the prince, so she leaves.

The next morning, Leiko goes to confront the false O Toyo. They fight. Before Leiko can kill her, the false O Toyo shifts to her true form – a demonic black cat – and escapes the castle. Ruiten sends soldiers after her. Just then, there’s a scream from the prince’s room. Leiko and Ruiten rush from to the room and are told the prince is dead. Leiko pushes her way to the bed and, taking Shannon in her arms, pleads with her to wake up. In course of this, Leiko realizes she’s in love with her friend. Suddenly Shannon opens her eyes and says Leiko’s name.

Leiko wakes up in the med bay of the Perseus, surrounded by the crew. Shannon is in the bed next to her, weak but alive. Leiko gets up to tend to her. Shannon asks if one of the crew was holding her, because she could have sworn she felt like she was lying in someone’s arms. Kaya jokes that she must have been having a good dream. Leiko remarks that maybe it was something more.

This is great! Seriously, I really enjoyed it. Now you have to write it! 🙂

Hey Sunny! Loving this website

Opps that was my grandma 🙂 But she right

Do you know of any Romance magazines that offer short story romances or literary magazines dedicated to just romance? Just curious.

I’m not familiar with any, but try googling “romance literary magazines” or “romance short stories” and I’m sure you’ll find some. Reply back if you find any that are particularly promising.

I just want to say, there are so many good stories on this website. This show the amount that you have helped all these people, maybe one day I will add myself to those people, thank you.

http://www.writersdigest.com/writing-articles/by-writing-genre/romance-by-writing-genre/romance_markets

بدأت تمطر ورأيت الناس يسرعون للإختباء من قطراته فابتسمت لذكرى جميلة عبرت خاطرى ..تذكرت امى عندما كانت ترقص تحت المطر بفستانها الوردى..الهى كم كنت أعشق هذا الفستان عليها..كان يناسب بشرتها الفاتحة ونحولة جسدها .جذبتنى من يدى يومها واخذنا ندور فى حلقات لا تبدء ولا تنتهى. شعرت ببرودة يديها تصعق يداى وبرودة المطر تبلل وجهى أحسست وبالسعادة تغمرنى لانك اخيرا بجانبى واخيرا تبتسمين اشتقتك يا اماه ..أشتقت لتفاصيلك وابتسامتك. أشتقت لمعنى وجودك جانبى ..المطر يهطل، أعلم أنك لو كنت الأن معى لجذبتينى ورسمنا بأقدامنا دوائر حتى تبتل عظامنا ..سأرقص لك فقط وسأبتسم لك فقط. بدأت عيون الناس تتجه نحوى ..تستنكر فعلتى ولكنى لا أفعل شئ.انا فقط أخبر أمى إنى بخير وأنى أشتاقها..ولكن للمطر طعم غريب يا أمى. له طعم ألم فراقك ،طعم الحياة بدونك ؛هو المطر وهى الحياة ولكن طعمهما مؤلمين يا أمى

I’m writing a “Thriller.” I’m very excited. A short story. Thank you. Right on time as usual!

Fun! Good luck LaCresha.

I’m wondering about “the sagging middle” in story structure right now. I’m happy with my beginning and ending, but the middle isn’t as dynamic as I want it to be. Does anyone have any experiences or advice about this? (It’s a 25 000 word story that’s due for a competition in about four months.)

Hey Rosie. We have a few resources on that. First check out our structure and plot cheatsheet: https://thewritepractice.com/plot-structure . Then, a great guest post on story structure with a hole in it: https://thewritepractice.com/story-hole . And I always recommend Save the Cat, which is a book for screenwriters, but is also very helpful for story structure in general: http://amzn.to/1TNpv2F . Highly recommend it.

The story grid is a good site and podcast for story structure. 🙂

I would say have an extremely unexpected twist, with a character the audience trusts.

But longer than 15 min but here it is.

I rub my fingers into the soft fuzz on the big brown chair. I can make designs if I move my fingers up or down. A dot makes one eye. Then another. A line for a smile finishes my chair picture. ‘Why would Daddy take money and blow it into the wind?’ I wonder as I draw.

A wet spot lands by the mouth, making the brown turn dark. I try to wipe it away, but the face disappears instead. I lay back in the chair, bumping my twin brother and making the dim room spin. My pink and orange stripe shirt is soft as I wipe my eyes. James’s tears fall to the chair like rain, his mouth open like one of the squishy balls we play with. His cry is loud. I join the noise.

Mommy’s hair, as dark as the wet spot on our chair, poofs around her face. Her green eyes seem small with her eyebrows close together. Teeth and gums show as Mommy screams like a roaring lion. Daddy points a finger at her nose. He looks so big. He yells, trying to be louder than her. James and I try to cry louder than them. Maybe they will hear us. Maybe they will stop.

Mommy lets out one last angry scream and tries to push Daddy away. A long red line comes on his arm. Red water comes out of it. Daddy’s eyes widen. His face turns red. He grabs Mommy by her arms, lifts her, and pushes her to the door like a rhinoceros. The wood breaks as they go through.

The noise has stopped, except for sirens in the distance. I curl into a ball in the chair, James’s knee sticking into my back, and close my eyes.

James and I get to sleep in the same bed tonight. It’s strange having Daddy read and tuck us in by himself, but he tells us Mommy will be home soon. I still don’t understand why she went to jail. I thought jail was for bad guys, but Daddy says everything will be ok.

The lights go out bringing shadow monsters. I hug my brother.

Bit longer than 15 minutes, but here it is

‘Scars’

The noise has stopped, except for sirens in the distance. I curl into a ball in the chair, James’ knee sticking into my back, and close my eyes.

This was so good! You have a really good writing style!

“The wall, he decided, will always be there”

He awoke, or at least it seemed he did, for he could not tell if he had been dreaming or if he were dreaming now. He pushed the woollen, scratchy blanket away from his body. There were no sheets, and his skin stuck to the plastic mattress that smelled of others sweat and urine. After prying his flesh from the tenacious bedding, he managed to sit up. He was more tired than he had remembered. He was still dirty and thirsty and his eyes hurt as they squinted in the dim hazy light. He drew his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. For long moments, he sat that way fearing punishment for doing anything that might be wrong.

Eventually, however, his eyes grew accustomed to the shadowy light and he began to see things. Across from him he could see a wall. He wondered how long the wall had been there. The question struck him as absurd. The wall he decided would always be there. In this confusion, he meditated on the hardness before him until a thought of beauty entered his mind and the nakedness upset him. “There are no pictures…it has no pictures hanging from it.” Lacking the courage, or cowardice, to look away he continued staring blankly until his sight improved still further and he found something within the wall that excited him. “I forgot…about…colour…I can see the colour now!” He tried to give the colour a name. “Dirty…” he thought. “Filth.” he said out loud. “It is a filthy colour.” he whispered silently to himself.

Quickly, the excitement left him and he began to grow tired of looking at the wall, even the colour began to bore him. The boredom gave him a sense of courage and he became bold. He decided to explore. Cautiously he moved his eyes to the right where he saw…a corner, Then the head began to turn to follow the lead of the eyes. They continued past the corner until they gazed upon something he recognized.

He hated what he saw, the familiar object that hid in the shadows…the thing that kept him here. He glared at it, but the closed and bolted door remained unmoved. It was then that he turned back to the wall he had grown to know and the boredom…he had grown to love.

incredible first sentence!

Incredible first sentence and incredible last sentence. Shivers up my spine. Thank you.

3 words…. copy and paste

Omg how why are people so good at writing stuff?!?!?

idek!?!?!!! i’m a freshman in high school and i can’t even write a simple short story.

Give it time…

This was a wonderful read ^_^ Short and enticingly written. Drew me in right away with that first bit, and especially the way it was all tied together by that first sentence. Lovely!

I know it’s been two years but it’s still very good and still deserves praise. I like this trippy atmosphere, you managed to convey it very nicely.

Some great story ideas here. You could even combine some of them in interesting, tenuous ways for a multi-location epic.

Thanks Bridget! Absolutely. And there’s nothing I love more than a good epic.

These are great ideas. I like the idea of prompts. Though sometimes, I get stuck when I write from a prompt. And sometimes, I’m not able to write a story in one sitting. I have to think about how I want the story to play out. I might have done it once, and they were pretty short. But most of the time, it takes a couple of sessions. That’s how I’m wired, I suppose.

Ten years of therapy, about a million different types of pills and three psychiatrists have helped me enough to write this. I was eleven when it happened, my older sister, Quinn, was almost sixteen, and my best friend was ten. I’ll never forget it… I doubt anyone ever will.

It was a warm summer day, early June, my best friend, Harper was over and we were playing in the backyard. We were laughing and singing along to a song that I couldn’t tell you the name of now. It was the middle of a normal day, but that’s what they always think just before everything goes wrong. Well, anyways,Harper and I amused ourselves doing everything and nothing for a while before we decided that we wanted to go to upstairs and bug Quinn, who we thought was doing her online drivers ed. courses. We raced up to her room, giggling like the little girls we were. When we got to her room, Harper grabbed the doorknob and tried to fling the door open, but it was locked. That should have been my first sign that something was wrong, Quinn never locked her door, we weren’t allowed to. We yelled, laughing, “Let us in! Let us in!” We giggled and knocking on her door again and again. There was no response, so I remember grabbing the key my parents always had, it opened all of the doors to me and my sibling’s bedrooms… I wish I would’ve known what I know now. I wish I wouldn’t have opened that door.

That day was the last happy day for a long time. I remember everything clearly, the breeze ruffling my short hair, the sound of Harper screaming the lyrics to our favorite song at the top of her lungs. I especially remember the thing that has haunted me for the past ten years. I remember my sister’s lifeless body lying in a pool of her own blood on her bed. I remember the look on her face being more peaceful than I’ve ever seen it. I remember screaming as I stared at the image of Quinn, her wrists bleeding and her skin pale. I remember the sound of Harper frantically dialing 911 and I remember the ambulance arriving. I remember the paramedics calling my parents and hearing my mom’s piercing scream from the phone. I remember the paramedics forcing me out of Quinn’s room, while I kicked and screamed at them, begging them to let me stay with my sister. It was the last time I saw her face. I remember collapsing in my dad’s arms. That was the first time I heard him cry, it wouldn’t be the last.

She was already dead when the ambulance got there. Suicide, they said, she killed herself. It took a long time to convince myself that it wasn’t my fault. If I had only went to see her sooner I could’ve saved her. The funeral was closed casket and everyone cried. I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was too numb. I don’t remember much of the funeral, it was just a blur of black and navy blue, with the occasional apology thrown in there. I never got why everyone apologized, it wouldn’t bring her back.

I was just a little girl and there I was with my childhood torn away from me. I was a younger sister and then I was an only child. A piece of me has been missing from me ever since that die and I doubt I’ll ever get it back again.

This was based on the boy or gets an unexpected fortune. I flushed out the typos, but its okay. Check it out! 😀 Caleb Pratt

Mistaken Divinity

My bar drinks of the wooded timberland were one of the most profound expeditions in my walk into becoming a god. I cupped the glass of cool bud light, and sipped it up at the mini bar table. I rested my hand on the wooden counter top, my fans and companions gambling each other on some high level daredevil match.

“Hey, Lexan, where you at,” I turned to see my friend Rodriguez. Fun man to have around with. He was had long grey hair, even for a guy. I pushed off the table and stood straight. I kept my hand in my pocket.

“You have a lot of realty in the new diversion your causing. Sherman hasn’t even sighted any more Divine Partakers, let alone, any Christian circumspect.”

“I know I know, but… we are, what they are… except the for the grace,” Rodriguez said.

“Right,” I narrow my eyes down towards the ground. I didn’t want to hear what he had to say about us Mormons being what the Christian Community isn’t. I mean, there almost all extinct, if not a hundred percent. We are the erected believers… who are in sure denial of the forthcoming of any later day saints.

“So where is your ceremonial magic been taking you,” Rodriguez said. “Anyhow I could help in the cemetery on Route 430?”

“Uhh… I mean… yeah unless you have a cloak and a specialized dagger. I’d have to get you one of those. You’ll be all dressed like a Celtic.”

We laughed.

Rodriguez was a good friend of mine. Much older though. I was in my teen years and he was in his fifties.

“Man, Lexan, you need to grow a beard. Your seventeen years old… yet you look like you’ve graduated college. What happened to your power to manipulate appearance? Funny… its a shame Christians don’t have this kind of power… even heathens can’t do anything we can.”

“Yeah I can tell Rodge. Tell me, why haven’t you been practicing your divinity? You seem a little out of shape to be wrestling with angles and demons….”

“Well I… yeah I mean, sure. Lets say I’m kind of in a predicament.”

“What…?”

I lay my back against the counter.

“Well, down on Armenia Rd. there was a cross fight between me and some other foe. Not sure what to suspect of him, but the “man-woman” was between two others working for her, or he… I don’t know.”

I rest my chin on my thumb and index finger. I realize and hear there are other phenomena of some other cultist group here in Sherman. Our cult is wacky on its own. Though I don’t know what to think of this “he-she man” thing….”

BZZZZZ! BZZZZZ!

‘I heard you! Shut up!’

‘Enough, you asshole!’

WHACK! Pieces of metal and plastic shattered on the wall.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she muttered softly as she fights her every being not to shed a tear. Alas, she lost once again.

It’s been days since she last saw light. The shadows on the walls seemed permanently etched. Her sanctuary once filled with love, lust, and happiness, now wreaks with despair, anguish, and palpable desperation.

‘How did I get here?’ she thought. The same desperate thought she’s been clutching onto for days. Or maybe weeks? Months? Years?

It doesn’t matter. To Emma, time no longer exists with this unrelenting pain.

Once in a while, the light would sneak through the thick, heavy curtains. And Emma would almost succumb to a hint of a smile until it haunts her again.

His resilient hands on her supple breasts. His soft lips caressing her neck and slender sternum. His sturdy chest against her trembling body. His whole palpitating manhood devouring her salacious being. Every ridges of Paul haunt her. Now, it all has to be distant memories. Unshakeable, soul crushing memories.

After what seemed like a lifetime of horizontal desolation, she finally mustered some strength to sit at the edge of her bed. She slowly opened her bulging eyes, and finally saw the mess she was in. Rotting pieces of food in cardboard boxes, sea of crumpled tissue strewn with nauseating piles of laundry, and dismantled pieces of her once chirpy alarm clock scattered all over her dingy floor.

As she moved her gazed from the floor, she noticed the dent on her pristine white wall. She couldn’t help but stare. ‘That dent will be there for a long time,’ she thought.

With a throbbing grunt, Emma slowly stood up and shuffled towards her once chirpy alarm clock. She picked up the pieces and followed the faint light peeking through her bathroom door. As she turned the door knob, more tears rolled down her cheeks. It was excruciating, but this time it was different. The door closed and the room was dark once again.

“His resilient hands on her supple breasts. His soft lips caressing her neck and slender sternum. His sturdy chest against her trembling body. His whole palpitating manhood devouring her salacious being. Every ridges of Paul haunt her. Now, it all has to be distant memories. Unshakeable, soul crushing memories.”

He had left his Gameboy behind. There was nothing to do without it, nothing to do but kick his feet and stare at the dull blank walls. Even annoying Di-Di had lost its colour. He didn’t care what Ma or Papa said. He had to get his Gameboy back.

He pushed into the room. Ah Boy, wait outside ah. Don’t come in! Papa had seemed firm, but he was old enough now to know how to get out of trouble. He would run to Ma, hide behind her legs, maybe tearfully declare that he would run away from home because Papa was so mean. Anyway, Papa seemed so busy with Ah Gong nowadays. He wouldn’t bother to cane a little boy like him.

Where had everyone gone? He couldn’t have been in the corridor for so long. The room that was once packed full of relatives was empty. It was only Ah Gong left in the hospital bed.

Immediately he noticed that the mask over Ah Gong’s nose and mouth was gone. Who had removed it? Without the strange alien-octopus-thing perched on his face, Ah Gong looked like the grandfather he remembered. He moved closer to get a better look.

As he approached the bed he realized the mask was lying on the chair. The inside was stained with a rustlike substance he did not recognize. He held up the mask to the light, and rubbed the stain with a cautious index finger. A powder came off in his hand. With a shiver of disgust he realized it was dried blood.

“Di-Di!” He didn’t know if he was terrified or excited. Where was his brother? Ma had always rushed to daub up any blood in their house – whether from Di-Di falling when learning to ride his bicycle, Di-Di scratching him during one of their many fights, Papa tripping over a wire and later needing stitches in his forehead. He couldn’t pass up this golden opportunity to share with his brother: the chance to investigate blood without an adult present.

The Gameboy lay in the room, forgotten.

Wrote on ‘a group of children discover a dead body’. In case it wasn’t obvious.

“I do like llamas very much,” said Charleston, “In fact, they even have names.” “You are one freaky man, Charleston.” stated Larry

Very well said!!

Jeremy Reynolds had a party one day. He decided it would be a special theme. Deez Nutz, he decided would be a fitting title for a beach party.

*I am only 14 so please, don’t mind me if there are any mistakes. I am still in the process of learning, but I tried really hard*

He could write. He could write and he knew it. No one else knew. He’d never show them his pieces; his collection of fantasies and mysteries. He wanted his friends to know. No, he wanted the world to know. But he was fearful. He was fearful of his stories failing, of him failing.

Abram had written many short stories and novels, all of them printed in manuscript and hidden in a black lock-box under his bed. He was unmarried, for he didn’t need any other love than that of his trusty typewriter and parchment. Writing was frowned upon, in his country. Books were burned. Even the classics. They were all burned in a pile on the streets.

He wouldn’t risk it. He didn’t want that fate for his books. He worked to hard. He spent too much time revising and perfecting the novel; there was no way he would let them die.

Sighing, Abram cracked his knuckles and stood. He yawned and walked over to his bed, where he bent down and grabbed the lock-box from beneath the bed. Abram had kept the key underneath the mattress, in case anyone were to find this box that contained all of his treasured secrets.

He opened the box he hadn’t opened in many years. Removing the pieces of parchment, he sat on floor, listening for the sounds of Nazi vehicles who somehow sensed the unpublished books. But none came. There was only silence, which, to Abram’s surprise, seemed to grow stronger as each second passed.

Before he knew it, Abram had been sitting on his hard floor for hours, thinking. Thinking about what he knew not. He just knew he was thinking.

Abram stood slowly; carefully as if he was trying not to disrupt the dust that covered the dark floor. Walking over to his desk, he left his lock-box open; something he’d never done in the years past. He sat and placed some more parchment into the typewriter and began writing, or typing, you could say. But this time, something was different. Abram wasn’t writing just for fun, he was writing for purpose. This time, he thought, this time, I will be published and my work may fuel the world. And with that, he revealed his talent to the world.

Thank you so much!!

much thanks <3

I’m sorry I’m late but I just wanted to say this story is fantastic! Soon enough this will become a book! I’m from Hawaii and all I do is write and draw all day… Keep up the work and never give up! God bless and aloha!

Yours was the best story that I read on this page…

thank you!!!

Very empowering!!! I was also around your age when I started writing on this site.

Anyways, that short story was so full of meaning. We just happened to be doing an essay on the value of literature in English class so this really fit in nicely for me with that. Lovely! 🙂

oh thank you sooo much!! I greatly appreciate it!!

I enjoyed your story. Thank you for sharing. I especially liked how Abram developed his talent, and despite the fear of having his manuscripts destroyed, he decided to publish his work. Well done and well told.

I have noticed some tiny grammatical mistakes in your Story and correct it for you as I know that this short Story has potential to go very far. Here is the corrected version: He could write. He could write, and he knew it. No one else knew. He’d never show them his pieces; his collection of fantasies and mysteries. He wanted his friends to know. No, he wanted the world to know. But he was fearful. He was fearful of his stories failing, of him failing.

Abram had written many short stories and novels, all of them printed in manuscript and hidden in a black lock-box under his bed. He was unmarried, for he didn’t need any other love than that of his trusty typewriter and parchment. Writing was frowned upon, in his country. Books were burnt. Even the classics. They were all burned in a pile on the streets.

He wouldn’t risk it. He didn’t want that fate for his books. He worked too hard. He spent too much time revising and perfecting the novel; there was no way he would let them die.

He opened the box he hadn’t opened in many years. Removing the pieces of parchment, he sat on the floor, listening for the sounds of Nazi vehicles who somehow sensed the unpublished books. But none came. There was only silence, which, to Abram’s surprise, seemed to grow stronger as each second passed.

Abram stood slowly; carefully as if he was trying not to disrupt the dust that covered the dark floor. Walking over to his desk, he left his lock-box open; something he’d never done in the years past. He sat and placed some more parchment into the typewriter and began writing, or typing, you could say. But this time, something was different. Abram wasn’t writing just for fun, he was writing for a purpose. This time, he thought, this time, I will be published, and my work may fuel the world. And with that, he revealed his talent to the world.

I hope my effort has helped!

Is it OK if I put this on a website I’m making. It will get me money I need to have. You said your only 14, 9 months ago, so you could be 15, well I’m only 12. I need to learn to save up and this will help me. Everything I said here is true, please help me. Also, this is a great story and that is why I chose your to be on my website.

dude thats like literally directly stealing someone’s work for money that only goes to you. Just write your own story instead of stealing someone else’s.

Admit it. I am probably some dude who can’t even make a website, well I am, so don’t worry.

This is the story I am working on now. I wrote it a long time ago, but I am upgrading it now. Changing all the errors, making the vocabulary more sophisticated:

In a valley close to a river where melt-water splashed and where rhododendrons and roses bloomed, where linnets flew with doves above the clustered trees, lay a cave, mostly hidden by the immense pines and the crag. In the cave, out of reach from the sunlight, was a portal. The portal’s frame was the darkest shade of gold, with glowing orange lines carved into it. Glowing flecks of bright blue glow in the darkness of the cave. The portal lay un opened, but the frame still glowed in the shadows of the sombre cave.

In a desert of torturing, immense heat, where scorching light, too blistering to be called sunlight, burns the dehydrated ground, was a tunnel, buried under the sand. In the tunnel there was an ever-growing fortress of burnt leaves and sand with over-boiled water dripping the top. This is all that remained of the desert, nothing could survive in the world above, nothing except from the portal. The fortress was built around the portal; the portal was the darkest shade of black, with red around the rims of the frame.

The sound of water hitting the cold tiles that topped the floor brought a sense of entertainment to the girl sat in the small room covered in a mixture of scars and bruises, awaiting the next blow of the hammer upon her fragile body which shivered in the night air and soft breeze which entered via the half barricaded window. Again and again, almost as if it was a cruel rhythm the metal tool came down, never missing a hit, always landing upon her chest. The storm brewing outside was bad enough without the maniac and his hammer. These are soft blows for a man of his build, she thought, she was certain he intended to make this last all night long. She wanted to struggle, to scream! But the leather bindings made it impossible, who cares anyway, she thought, no one near this basement would care.

The sticky taste of iron filled her mouth, blood. Her body started to shudder, shock. By this point the inmate hitting had dropped the hammer and injected another load of hydrocodone, such a waste of such an effective pain killer. At last she tried to struggle, but even with the drugs numbing the sharp pain shooting trough her body she still couldn’t gain the strength to fuel her ineffective hope of escaping the inmate, after all, even if she did escape, in a mass breakout like this? She could die in a more demanding way.

With my free hand I felt the imperfections, holes, scratches, patches of long since dry blood that covered thee wooden operation table I lay on. How old was it? Thirty years? Forty? Who cares, it had to be old to be in the basement of Twin Rivers Asylum. This psychiatric institution had housed many atrocities, after all, Nazis built this asylum, catered the inmates…put them to work. We are only barely off the English channel; here in Channel Island’s Twin rivers asylum we have many an inmates. Young and old, French and British, they are all welcome here, hell, we have a Swedish inmate, talks to himself all day and night, his names Toby Buchman, we call him Toby-Talkative, how very fitting being his nurse I should die by his hand…

Ouch, be gentler Toby. Even through my drugged up husk of a body I felt that one. I and the staff thought you were joking when you said you were very strong, looks like you weren’t joking…

For such a shrivelled blotch of bones you have surprisingly good and when it comes to instrument of torture, your quite strong, why wouldn’t you be? Killing young women is why your here, Toby, you are one hell of a sociopath, brilliant mind, you’re like a more sadistic Hannibal Lecter minus eating his victims after all, I’m so helpless you could take a couple of bites out of me as I lie here, in the dark basement…

Fun fact, a goldfish’s attention span is three seconds, the average lunar eclipse takes 11 minutes to pass, and a wooden hospital bed from 19th century takes an average of 63 hits to break trough, 54 if you incorporate a body which weighs approximately 130lbs, and guess how much I weigh.

Suddenly I heard the wood buckle under the next hit a glorious hit as well as my straps loosening. Come on Toby, you brilliant old sociopath, you can do it, one more well made hit could send me free. What could go wrong? Toby stood motionless on the spot for a moment later Toby took another blow. I couldn’t breathe. The pain was so intense I felt every cell in my body explode in a chain reaction. The pain was so intense that it felt like a piece of heated iron had been pressed onto my skin. Despite that, a strange sort of calm fell over me: I was dying. I wasn’t coming back from this. Part of me thought, All right. Make it count. I wobbled on one foot about to run to the door, but unfortunately Toby kicked me at the wall. He was so strong, I thought All froze the leaves on the trees didn’t clatter, Toby didn’t stink anymore, Then it was gone all the memories of life returning to me. Then it all went away, my life was It was the end, nothing could stop that now…

I awoke in a bed, in a white room with a marble floor and a silver carpet at the foot of the bed; the wall behind her was a fancy, white wallpaper, decorated to look like a real wall. The wall on the left of the bed and in front of the bed were normal and white, on the right of the bed was a window, now covered, with a beige curtain. In the bed- where the girl lay were multiple cushions, all lay side by side at the top of the bed; the blanket covering her was soft and light. On the sides of the bed were two bed-side cabinets, one with a lamp and the other one with a vase, holding tulips and rhododendrons, on books by her favourite author, many she didn’t recognise. Promptly, she got up noticing there was a small, white table- shaped as a cylinder, with a transparent glass top; also noticing the chair behind it too. The chair was a traditional, leather armchair with four small metal legs holding it up. Then she turned to the door. It was white made, smooth and made out of oak, with a metal handle, a small, square keyhole under it.

As soon as I placed my hand on the door handle, it flew open with a tall, handsome man in the way with bright blue hair shaped as a fire and red eyes. “Welcome, Kayla to Valhalla. Where are you off so fast” he shouted with glee. “I was going out,” Kyla said trembling on the spot. “I didn’t think this is where I should be.” “In this hotel we are all dedicated to make you feel like home, for you will be staying here for the rest of your life. Sorry for my wrong vocabulary, you are already dead. For the rest of the time you need to practice.” “What !?” she yelled. “Are you saying I’m dead” “Yes I am,” the man asked confused.”May I introduce you to your new home”

So the two walked through what seemed to be a endless tour, but eventually came to an end. “And this is the dining room where you have dinner… Here is your breakfast room you can freely come here and invite friends if you are feeling lonely…” “So you are saying this is the place where all people go if they are an extremex and if they died they come here and become an extraextremex” “Yes,” said he.”And also that you are our leader because you can see what specie people are also take away their powers if needed.” “Can I take away the powers of sociopaths or weaken them with my mind beams whatever things.”

“Yes, you can but if you do that you will be weakened too. Also that is a high level trick, you are not high level- no offense” “Offense taken,” said Kayla, with her head down. So they continued on their tour and went walking through all the different floors and introducing Kyla to all the different people and members of staff. On they went about the limits of people and a lot of different stuff. After time, they started her training.

“Focus on me, ” Blaze was explaining to her how to see what specie he was.”Do not think of anything else. Not the colour of my nose, not what room we are in just on me the thoughts and memories of me. Now listen to the sound of my voice. You should be in a universe of darkness; are you?” “Yes I see black in the background and there are flying things in it.” “Yes those are my thoughts.” “I can also see images swirling around” “Those are memories” “I can also feel heat and cold environment when I move around. Are those your emotions” “Yes, the heat is happiness and the cold is anxiety or sadness. Now let’s focus on the specie part. To determine if I’m an Extraextremex, a normal Extremex or even an Oigreog. If I am an Extraextremex then you will not feel motion. If I was an Extremex then you would sense tingling and if I am an Oigreog then you’ll sense shaking. Which one do you sense?” “I sense tingling and shaking so you are one of the Oigreog in the times when Extremex where starting to populate the world. This that means you are an Exremog or an Exoiig” “I am an Exoiig. I have not died yet.” “But how are you here?” “Because I was the first Exoiig alive. I made this place” “But how?” “I used my powers to do it. That is why all the walls are shades of red, orange and yellow.” “Why didn’t you make mine a different colour.” “Because I need to keep track of what specie everyone is. I used Conjuration and Mysticism to make sure that every specie got the same shade of red or whatever.” They blabbered on about what it was like when Oigreog ruled the world, what Black Magic could do and how to control Extraextremex powers…

Kayla went to bed with the thoughts of how the world was made and how it transformed into this planet, when at the start it was billions of monsters – the Oigreog – fought and then somehow transformed into normal people who never fought in their lives. She also didn’t understand how there was only one person who had the power to see what specie one was… She woke with her hair curled up covering her face.

Once she tossed the hair off her face she noticed there was a book on her bed-side cabinet beside the lamp. When she picked it up, she noticed it was a book called “The Arts of Necromancy and Enchantments”. She soon noticed it was the book Blaze used to learn Black Magic. She was filled with a mixture of joy and shock. Then the door flew open. A small brown-haired boy was standing in the way. “Hi,” he said, holding a hand out to shake, “I am Logan, someone from you floor” “Hi,” Kayla said, shaking his hand, “I’m Kayla, an Extraextremex” “Do you want to go and have breakfast” “I guess so” said Kayla.

In the hallway, my neighbours were starting to emerge. Thomas Jefferson Jr looked about my age. He had short curly hair, a lanky frame and a rifle slung over one shoulder. His blue wool coat had brass buttons and chevrons on the sleeve – a U.S. Army Civil War uniform, I guessed. He nodded and smiled. ‘How you doing?’

‘Um, dead, apparently,’ I said. He laughed. ‘Yeah. You’ll get used to it. Call me T.J.’ ‘Kayla,’ I said. ‘Come on.’ Logan pulled me along.

We passed a girl who must’ve been Mallory Keen. She had frizzy red hair, green eyes and a serrated knife, which she was shaking in the face of a six-foot-seven guy outside the door marked X.

‘Again with the pig’s head?’ Mallory Keen spoke in a faint Irish brogue. ‘X, do you think I want to see a severed pig’s head every time I step out of my front door?’

‘I could not eat any more,’ X rumbled. ‘The pig head does not fit in my refrigerator.’ Personally, I would not have antagonized the guy. He was built like a bomb-containment chamber. If you happened to have a live grenade, I was pretty sure you could safely dispose of it simply by asking X to swallow it. His skin was the colour of a shark’s belly, rippling with muscles and stippled with warts. There were so many welts on his face it was hard to tell which one was his nose. We walked past, X and Mallory too busy arguing to pay us any attention.

We entered a small elevator and the doors closed, making the elevator sound. “One question: How does everyone get here.” “People called Collectors fly around the world collecting souls of dead Extremex. I am a Collectors.”

‘And you?’ I asked. ‘How did you become a Collector? Did you die a noble death?’ She laughed. ‘Not yet. I’m still among the living.’ ‘How does that work exactly?’ ‘Well, I live a double life. Tonight, I’ll escort you to dinner. Then I have to rush home and finish my calculus homework.’ ‘You’re not joking, are you?’ ‘I never joke about calculus homework.’ The elevator doors opened. We stepped into a room the size of a concert arena. My mouth dropped. ‘Holy –’ ‘Welcome,’ Logan said, ‘to the Feast Hall of the Slain.’

Rows of long tables, like a stadium, curved downward from the nosebleed section. In the center of the room, instead of a basketball court, a tree rose taller than the Statue of Liberty. Its lowest branches were maybe a hundred feet up. Its canopy spread over the entire hall, scraping against the domed ceiling and sprouting through a massive opening at the top. Above, stars glittered in the night sky.

What’s supposed to be your point? If you are receiving money from something YOU DO NOT OWN then it is obviously theft. YOU DO NOT PUT SOMEONE ELSES WORK ON YOUR OWN WEBSITE AND USE THAT MONEY FOR YOURSELF. That is just pathetic, really. I hope you honestly realise what your doing here, because its seriously stupid.

kys nigga my bitch loves the cocaine nigga gucci gang nigga iwill fuck your bith tongiht nigga, drose out nigga fag nigga

I am very disappointed that there is not 100 of the story idea selection

I’m glad to see Joe’s book, Let’s Write a Short Story! is still availalbe and going strong! I purchased it as soon as it was published, still refer to it quite regularly to remind myself of some important but often over-looked elements of short story. Although my work has been published a number of times, we’re never too experienced to learn and to be reminded of what makes for a great story.

A short story idea: When I was very young, one of my best friends learned she had been adopted. We all know that people really can and do say some incredibly stupid things to children. Because my mother had very blond hair and blue eyes and both my hair and eyes are dark brown, strangers often said to me,”And just whose little girl are you?” I began to wonder whether I, too, was adopted and my parents simply weren’t telling me. What if, as an adult who never questioned your origins, you learned you had been adopted. Conversely, because I myself DO have an adopted child, what if you were told you were adopted but in fact, learned you were not. Write a short story!

here’s my story

Uncle joe was talking to his 5 year old nephew jane about how he’s getting old and how she’s going to have to start doing all the chores in the house joe is a little challenged in his life because he was bullied and doesn’t know how to control his anger. he gets in an argument with jane and Joe felt anger go through his mind his temper over flows and he got so mad he started hitting her. 2 years later she was still helping around as Jane’s face would turn red and she would start throwing tempers and joe would hit her. Over the years her fachel expiration started to change form because of all the hitting. Joe heard a scream of dying devastating noise outside and went to go see what it was he lifted up a bucket and under it was the phone book. Since he had anger issues he decided to call the evil scientist and ask him to fix bullying once and for all after he went to the evil scientist house something went wrong he came back as the demon he unlocked his nephew’s room there she was. she was crying.Jane slowly turned around she was mad crazy. He ordered her to clean the dishes. Since she was so mad crazy she didn’t listen to him and she smacked him across the face the Demons face turned red he felt like someone pierced him with a needle he got so mad that he trapped her in the mirror. She was screaming for help but it just circulated around in the mirror as she was she was trapped there another duplicate appeared it was a boy. He said his name was michael. He was 7 years old the evil demon erased the kids memories and put them in a microchip. Then he put him on the streets. Someone had found him and brought him home and He had been with his new parents for years.He was great at figuring anything out a after a while he found out about his uncle Joe. Since he was so good at researching things he even found directions to his uncle’s house so he decided to go on an adventure to find his uncle joe/the Demon once he found uncle Joe he wasn’t at all happy.

Joe hit Michael and he fell to the ground and fainted .when he was just slightly awake he found a microchip it said Michael’s memories michael picked it up Joe was coming towards him with a knife

Michael woke up right away and put the microchip to his chest if he dies Jane will vanish for ever Joe stabbed Michael in the chest.luckily the microchip blocked the knife from stabbing him and the microchip went into his chest it felt like a rainbow bursting through his skin the light went into his eyes and he got his memories back. He knew everything he knew that his clone was abused and everything he was ready to sacrifice himself for his clone so he ran inside the house and did bloody jane spinning around in circles and said bloody jane bloody jane bloody jane.

He trapped himself in the mirror and Bloody Jane was back Jane through her self out of the house and went to Joe in and punched him on the floor and they had a sword fight and Joe died and bloody Jane turned into the evil bloody demon.

(I like to write with comic characters (Peter Parker, ect.) so here we go… Based on the scars short story idea)

“Where did these come from?” I flinched and hurried to cover my back and arms up. “They’re old… They don’t hurt anymore…” I frowned, remembering the pain from each one of the marks that stained my skin forever. “That’s not what I asked…” I flinched as he slid the thin jacket off my shoulders to get a better look at them. I didn’t meet his eyes as he traced over them. Long and thin lines from knives. Round ones from cigars or cigarettes. Jagged ones from glass. The giant one that curled from just below my neck, all the way around my body before stopping at my right hip. I remembered the pain from each one, the cause of each one, the people who caused each and every one of them… “Pete, It’s a really long story…” We had been dating for about a month and I didn’t want to scare him away with my sob story. “I want to know.” His voice was soft as he had me sit on the bed facing him. I looked at him for a while, trying to sort my thoughts out. We had been friends since we were six, but I had hidden everything from him. He had no clue, and I wish he still wouldn’t… I took a deep breath and began to tell the story. “I’ve kept this from everyone… Please let me tell the whole story before you ask questions or leave me. I wouldn’t blame you if you did…” “Go ahead, I’ll let you finish. But I promise, I won’t leave you.” He grabbed my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll see… It began when I was six. My parents weren’t the best as you know… They weren’t home much. Mom went out drinking until she was hammered, Dad went out on “business” calls. He would leave almost every night, coming home with perfume on him. Mom didn’t want to believe it. She was in denial, believed that he still loved her as he did in the past… She would come home smashed and would start sobbing. I tried to help as much as I could, but I didn’t know much. I would let her hug me, and would do my best to comfort her. I learned fast that I needed to take care of her. She would wake up with a hangover and the best I could do was give her one of my favorite juice pouches and a cookie. She would start crying again and tell me that I was such a good girl. Remember when I missed school for a week?” “Yeah, the teacher said you were really sick.” “Dad and mom got into a fight. They were screaming at each other, I didn’t know what to do… I ran away from home, I went to my cousin’s house. I got to stay there the week even though he called mom. When I got home, Dad was gone and mom was passed out on the couch surrounded by empty cans of alcohol. Dad never came back after that, and mom got increasingly depressed. I didn’t know what was happening, Dad wouldn’t come home, mom was sad, I learned how to do things for myself quick because I had to support myself and mom. When I turned seven the nice elderly woman from next door began to teach me how to cook, and clean. I would make her little crafts to sell in her shop as a “payment” for the lessons. Mom barely noticed I was gone for an hour afterschool. She tried to be there for me, she would ask me how my day was, and would constantly give me hugs. I thought life was going good, that everything would be okay. Then when I was eight, everything went downhill…” He squeezed my hand slightly. “Dad came back to the house. He… He said nasty things to mom. I didn’t understand that well back then but as I grew older I understood what he said to her. He.. broke her… She wouldn’t talk anymore, refused to eat, refused to drink… After I came home from the sleepover at your house, I saw her… She, She was hanging from the ceiling, tears running down her face.” Pete looked horrified, pulling me into a hug as I continued. “The elderly woman heard my scream, and rushed over to see me staring at my mother screaming and sobbing. She called the cops, quickly getting her to the ground, checking her pulse. I was taken to the woman’s home, the police announced her dead and found a letter…” “I knew she passed but didn’t know what happened exactly…” Pete’s voice was quiet. “Dad got custody over me. He didn’t like the fact that I looked like mom. He… He did things. He let his ‘friends’ do things. I was nine at the time, and he sold me to his ‘friend’ for the night. Gave him 10 bucks to have his way with me. I tried to fight back but…” Pete looked livid. “I felt sick, the bad thing is that I couldn’t feel anything. I was numb, emotionally and physically. You and the others were the only ones that made me feel something… It continued until I was twelve, I had tried to fight but it was pointless. One day, Dad had enough of it. He slapped me, kicked me, cut me, burned me… He let his ‘friends’ have their way with me. The reason I began to miss more and more school was because of him. I got lucky sometimes and was able to sneak out and see you. He would add a new mark to the collection each time. Then when I was fifteen, he got drunk. He.. Had his way with me, then threatened to kill me if I said anything. Aunt May was the one to notice, the one day I came over she saw a glimpse of them… I confided in her, I didn’t want you to know because you would look at me differently. Or give up on me and that would have killed me… Dad found out when May called the cops on him. He was not happy, the longest scar was his attempt to kill me. The police did a search, and the court plead him guilty. I was in the hospital that month I missed school… My cousin got custody of me, then the accident happened, and I got my abilities. That’s pretty much it… I guess you’ll be leaving then?” I lowered my head, waiting for the rejection. “I told you. I’ll never leave you. I love you too much to do that. I’m glad you told me…” He pulled me into a tight hug, kissing the top of my head. “Really?” I teared up a bit. “Really.” He held me as I cried. I really felt loved for once in my life… All I know is that it felt good to get that off my chest. “I don’t care about the marks. Because these scars make you look even more beautiful to me.”

( I have no idea if I did this right and I’m quite sure I might have made few mistakes but it’s worth a try)

Sometimes there are instances when you can see your own life flashing before your eyes and it gets you thinking ” Is this where I want to be? Is this the place I still want to be in another 5 years?”

I had a minor problem, a fault perhaps. I was surely and indefinitely addicted to Alcohol. Don’t get me wrong it was not that type of addiction where one would kill for a bottle of beer or something far more stronger that leaves that burning sensation down your throat and a sting behind your eyelids. It was a addiction where when I didn’t know what to do-how to react- specifically, I turned to my new found companion. It didn’t shout back at me, didn’t call me names, didn’t say that I was a worthless mistake.

Infact it welcomed me with open arms and I embraced the feeling of not caring. Sure it was a great weight off my shoulders just to forget everything for a moment and just…… be. But then I’d wake up regretting every single thing I did the night before. Trust me that plus having a blasting headache ? not the best hangover tonic.

Now here I am in front of my car trying to think yet failing since I can’t even think straight to even start thinking about thinking.

That’s when I feel it. something poking at the back of my head. A shadow looming behind me.

”Leave the keys on the ground and turn away without a second glance and you won’t get hurt.” His vice was rough and he reeked of old garbage and dried up voldka.

There I see it again. All The time I’ve spent wasting away drinking without actually doing what my 21 year old self was supposed to be doing.

I took my parents money for granted and had the time of my life. A Audi sports car, expensive designer clothes, latest IPhone, all the girls I could ever imagine. And yet I felt hollow. An empty nutshell disguised as a perfect fruit.

This is the moment I change that. This is the moment the fight back. I’m not going to whole away anymore. I won’t be that worthless mistake any more. I am Rane Alexander after all and I won’t let a label define me. I’m going to get past this hazy fog and I’ll see the horizon again.

So I turned back and grabbed the man by his arm and sling him over hard sending the gun skidding across the dim lit parking lot.

” Not today” I breathed.

Nice…well done. I thought the ending was empowering…

Standing Still

I would like to tell you a story about a girl. There was nothing special about her at all-she was simply a girl. Every day she lived in pain. She lived in her shared room feeling so alone. Everything was white: the walls, the beds, the furniture. There was no creativity in the room, no evidence of the girl’s individuality-no posters, no color, nothing. Although, she did have one orange throw pillow that she didn’t want nor like. She hated the bland, bland room. Until she was forced to live in this room she saw white as a symbol of purity, harmony, and peace. Now she saw white as a toxic color, something that wasn’t even really a color at all, something that was devoid of emotion. Every day the girl took a shower in an attempt to wash away her skin that had been tainted by the room, but that simple act of cleansing soon became tiresome and it eventually stopped working. The girl felt dirty, impure, and alone. She was afraid-so afraid. She was afraid of being alone in her shared room in a shared house of seven people. She was afraid of not being heard, of not being able to speak. She didn’t know how she felt and she didn’t know how to express it. One day, the girl stepped into her shower, and stared at the white walls and the white floors and the white curtain and the whiteness of it all and she felt numb. She felt as if the blandness of her room and of her life had finally driven her emotionless. She stood there, feeling every singular drop of water sting her skin as if she was on fire and she felt nothing. Nothing-the absence of anything-shouldn’t feel as if the world was being torn apart around her, it shouldn’t feel as though everyone and everything were pitted against her, and yet this is the way the girl felt. She forgot that she was in the shower, where she was supposed to feel refreshed and cleansed, and she forgot herself. She leaned her head against the shower wall she wondered why the walls looked as if they were in so much pain. It was as if the very walls around her were feeling just as she felt. She stood and she thought. She wondered how long she would be able to stand there, with her head resting on a cold, hard surface. She stood in the shower too long, she stood there until the hot water turned cold and even past that. She stood there until she felt as though the pain building up inside her couldn’t take it any longer. And then, she moved. She placed one hand against the tile wall and she pushed, testing her strength-the wall remained still. She thought about how meaningless her life was and how she couldn’t possibly do anything important or memorable and she felt selfish. She felt selfish for wanting to be important. She felt as though all of her thoughts were not her own and that society had simply conditioned her to think them and she felt nothing. She felt trapped. She had nowhere to go, nowhere to be, no friends to run to, nothing. She felt alone. Her worst fear was unfolding as she began to panic. She thrashed in the shower as she desperately gasped for air, feeling nothing. Maybe she should stop gasping for air, maybe she should just give up. But no, she had to keep fighting. She turned and she turned the dreaded water off and it stopped. Just like that, it stopped, and she felt nothing yet again. She stood there, water dripping down her body, and she thought. She thought about how many mistakes she made and how many lies she’d told. She regretted everything. She wanted to stop feeling. She wanted to undo all of her wrongdoings and she wished she could fix the people she’d broken. She wished so desperately to fix herself. She stopped, she told herself to snap out of it and she felt nothing. She turned and she pulled back the bland, white curtain. She slowly took a step and then another. She stood right outside the shower and let herself feel the cold, rigid air on her skin because feeling something was better than nothing, right? She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself to shield her small, fragile body from the cold. She stood there outside of the shower, and she felt vulnerable. She felt neglected. She felt as if nobody cared at all. She truly thought that she had no one. She sat down on the cold tile bathroom floor and she felt defeated. She felt as if she could no longer go one. She stared at the water dripping from the faucet and she thought about how easy it would be to corrupt these white walls with her own blood just as they had tainted her with pain and sorrow and misery. She sat for what felt like hours and she thought. She realized that she couldn’t do what she so desperately wanted to do because she was just too afraid. She thought about spilling her own blood, just to leave at least a little bit of herself in that lonely room that would never truly be hers. She came so close-oh so close-to giving up, but then she remembered. She remembered a person and how that person made her feel. She remembered a smile like no other. She remembered arms that held her so tight and close that she actually felt safe. She remembered a face, a gorgeous face, that lit up the moment its eyes layed on her. She remembered feeling loved, so she stood up, turned to the door, walked into the white room, and the girl lived on to see another day, another sunrise, and another beautiful moment.

And I have a secret-that girl, that terrible terrible girl, is me.

I have a blog and have uploaded 190 articles and short stories averaging 1000-1400 words. 70% were political. My writing is purely a hobby although I did send one story to a publisher and they wrote that they liked it but being an unknown author I would be required to contribute £2,500 towards the cost of publishing this children’s picture book which was 800 words long. Is this normal?.

So far I have had 43,000 hits worldwide on my blog I am now writing fiction for girls aged between 12-17 and children’s picture books..

I have a blog and have uploaded 190 articles and short stories averaging 1000-1400 words. 70% were political. My writing is purely a hobby although I did send one story to a publisher and they wrote that they liked it but being an unknown author I would be required to contribute £2,500 towards the cost of publishing this children’s picture book which was 800 words long.

IS THIS NORMAL?.

Is this normal ?

I will get up off the chair and head for the PC, I will type two lines. At this stage they are nothing but the release of vague reflections triggered by my imagination. I may not use them but they have to escape the clutter and disarray of my thoughts and be planted like a seedling. Those two lines on a blank screen when germinated can blossom into an article, a story or a book; the blank computer screen is not unlike the painter’s blank palette waiting for the first glimmer of his/her artistry. A line of text can do the same, although it need not even be a line of text, one word can suffice.

The first line read “It was the evening of the annual Concert and Dance at……….. ” I turned the Pee Cee off and I went to bed. The next day the story took root and blossomed… ….

I will get up off the chair and head for the PC, I will type two lines. At this stage they are nothing but the release of vague reflections triggered by my imagination. I may not use them but they have to escape the clutter and disarray of my thoughts and be planted like a seedling.

Those two lines on a blank screen when germinated can blossom into an article, a story or a book; the blank computer screen is not unlike the painter’s blank palette waiting for the first glimmer of his/her artistry. A line of text can do the same, although it need not even be a line of text, one word can suffice.

The first line read “It was the evening of the annual Concert and Dance at the Denham College” I turned the Pee Cee off and I went to bed. The next day the story took root and blossomed… ….

Those two lines on a blank screen when germinated can blossom into an article, a story or a book; the blank computer screen is not unlike the painter’s blank palette waiting for the first glimmer of his/her artistry. A line of text can do the same, although it need not even be a line of text, one word can suffice. The first line read “It was the evening of the annual Concert and Dance at the Denham College.

I turned the Pee Cee off and I went to bed. The next day the story took root and blossomed… ….

Here a poem…

Roses are red Violets are blue I love you Do you love me?

Times I sit and think of you In hope as you think of me Your smile just makes me melt As I know my makes you melt.

I know you think I’m silly But you love me for it.

I hope this puts a smile on your face As it does my as I wrote it.

The sky is blue, the grass is green and the sun is warm just like my heart that beats for you. You make me smile more then the beautiful flowers that bloom under the warmth of spring and you put a sparkle in my eyes more then the stars shine in the night sky. You light my path better then a full moon in a clear night sky.

You are beautiful and I love you too.

It lights up my heart to see the words I write to you. I never thought I would ever meet someone like you. I have told you things happen for a reason and so they do. I want spend every waking moment to show you how I feel. My heart belongs to the moat amazing woman I know. Baby, that is you. I know here lately I’ve been hard to love but I promise things will get better. You are my rock and sanitary you keep me going when I think I can’t. I love u with all my heart, mind, body and soul. You’re my FOREVER. Just one more thing to say.

Don’t give up on me because I will make all your dreams come true in one way or another. I will love you until I take my last breath. Just keep on loving me for I know I am you’re Forever Love…..

That is the biggest poem I’ve ever seen

Merp, I like this

Beware: Bad language. These are two dispicible people being told honestly.

————-

Stew bent down and grabbed the dead man’s feet. “Because they’re faggots, that’s why. Why you care?”

Phil bent over and grabbed the dead man’s shoulders. “I just don’t think we should generalize people like that. That’s all.”

“One. Two. Three. Up.” They lifted the dead man off the pavement and shuffled over to the trunk of their Volkswagen. “I don’t give a fuck what you don’t think, they’re still dick-suckers. On three again. One. Two. Three.” They tossed the man into the trunk. Stew grabbed the dead man’s legs and contorted them in such a way that his fat ass fit inside, then he tossed a sheet over the body and slammed the trunk shut. “Queers, Phil. God ain’t got no love for a man sucking off another man.”

Phil was wiping his hands with a kerchief. When he was done he stuffed it back in his back pocket. The left one. “Maybe God doesn’t care, neither? Maybe we’re the ones, as a society, making a bigger deal out of it than it really is.”

Stew licked his thumb and rubbed it on his left tail light, smearing a dot of blood and making it worse. “Gimme’ a rag, would ya’?” Phil fetched a rag out of the backseat of the VW and tossed it to Stew. He spit on the rag and then wiped the taillight raw. “It’s in the fuckin’ bible, man. God said a man and a woman, not a man and a man. Now, don’t get me wrong, I got no problem with women dating women. I mean, come on, it’s sexy as hell. But two guys wagging their weiner’s in each other’s faces? Fucking gross.”

Phil stuck a cigarette between his lips and lit it, closing his eyes and inhaling. He opened his eyes and exhaled. A kid on a bike rode by, tossing a newspaper wrapped in a blue bag on the edge of the driveway. Phil watched the boy as he pedaled away, dumping papers on every driveway down the street. “Maybe the bible does say that,” he said, turning back to Stew. “Why’s it our business, though? Long as they keep it between them, how’s it hurting you?”

“It’s the principle of the motherfuckin’ thing,” Stew said, tossing the rag to Phil.

Phil sidestepped out of the way and let the rag fall to the ground. “Fuck off, dude. I don’t want his fucking blood on my new suit.”

“Well at least put it in the trash.” Stew wiped his hands down his pants, at which Phil cringed, then walked over and opened the driver side door. “We gotta meet Don in half an hour and we’re runnin’ late. Let’s go.”

“Stop for a taco?” Phil asked, bending over and grabbing the rag between two fingers.

“Sure. I’m starving.”

I Tried This is what i have so far…:

Isra Sonnet liked the quiet. Which was why she wished she were back home with her parents back in California, her cousin Eric was snoring very loud on the top bunk of the beds. She tried to block out the noise, but he seemed to be getting louder, and louder with each snort. Having enough of this, Isra grabbed her pillow and climbed up with it.

Holding steady onto the ledge of the bed, she smacked him with it. Hard.

Waking up with a start Eric looked at Isra annoyed.

“What is wrong with you? I was trying to sleep!” He flings the pillow on by his face,to the floor.

“You’re loud enough to wake the dead. Stop snoring like an old man.”

“If you’re so mad about it go sleep somewhere else…” Eric says drifting back to sleep, too tired to argue.

Sighing Isra climbed back down to her bunk bed. She knew it wouldn’t be long before Eric would start snoring again. Gathering her pillow from the floor and the blanket from her bed, she walked out of the room closing the door behind her.

Now, it was quite dark in the house. Though, Isra knew her way around the house from memory. She was careful to go down the stairs, and not to make too much noise to wake Eric’s parents.

In the living room Isra made herself comfortable on one of the couches. Placing her pillow down and wrapping herself in the warmth of her blanket comforted her. She sighed in relief. Now she could finally sleep.

I really like it. It’s very detailed in my opinion. I’ve read a book like that called… “Wish”. I want to publish all six of my books when I get older. I’M ONLY NINE so maybe when i’m in my 20’s

dont worry about your age. you can be just as good as any other writer. i am only twelve and i am almost finished writing my book that i am hoping to publish. go for your dreams, dont let your age stop you.

I’m 16 and have published my first book, best experience of my life, I am very close to publishing my 2nd book and sooo excited! Don’t worry about your age, the younger the better I say! You go girl and good luck with your writing career. You are a very gifted young lady! Xx

If you want to publish your books, why not now? There isn’t a law against young authors. I’m not much older than you, but my book is being published this year. All you need is the money to publish–that’s the REAL hard part for a younger writer.

Hey, don’t worry, I’m eleven and I deeply enjoy writing, and I’m looking to get a book published very soon. There’s no law forbading youngsters from getting books published… In fact, becoming a young author is one of the VERY BEST things you could do to benefit you in the future.

Yea I’m 11 and I’m gonna start writing stories on an app called Wattpad

It’s a great way to get feed back and to start sharing your stories.

The temperature was searing. Tara squinted her eyes as wavy lines of heat danced in the distance. Michael shuffled out of the taxi behind her and bent to drop 30 pesos in the driver’s expectant hand. “Why did we have to come all the way to Acapulco just to get our teeth cleaned?” Tara whined like a child dreading the dentist. “We’re not just getting our teeth cleaned”, Michael explained, “I need 4 crowns, you could use some fillings, and dental work is so much cheaper in Mexico. Plus, it’ll be like a vacation as soon as we’re finished. I have 3 days of the most romantic stuff planned for us, just wait.” Tara smiled at the thought of what Michael’s idea of “romantic stuff” could be. It was 9:15 am Thursday, if all went to plan, they would be partying on the beach Friday night. The shop they had been dropped off in front of was a modest, stucco covered building with one dark window bearing a small sign that read “Dentista”. They were 45 minutes early for their appointments but hopefully that meant they would be done sooner. 30 minutes and 16 pages of paperwork later, they were ushered down a brightly lit corridor to a room containing an x-ray machine. Once finished there, they were led to adjoining rooms. Each contained nothing more than a large, green dental chair, procedure light, and metal rolling cart filled with shiny, sharp instruments. “The dentist will be right in,” said the plump assistant in a thick Mexican accent. Since the office saw so many tourists, the staff all spoke in English, and this reassured Tara that it wasn’t so bad after all. She was looking up at a poster of an aquarium filled with fish that was taped to the ceiling when the dentist strode in. He was tall, about 6 feet, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a brilliantly white smile. While peering at her x-ray films, he rattled off a list of work that she needed, and she agreed, not really understanding just wanting to get it over with. The plump assistant appeared and placed a mask over Tara’s nose and mouth as she crooned, “To make you comfortable!” The last thing she noticed before she lost consciousness was the poodle print scrubs the assistant was wearing. Tara woke up being shaken by Michael. “Come on let’s go, I’ve been finished for an hour.” She groggily sat up and placed her hand to her warm, swollen cheek. The assistant was back, handing Michael prescriptions for pain killers and giving him instructions not to eat for 2 hours. They stepped outside into the bright sun and began walking slowly towards the nearest intersection where they could hail a cab. After a short taxi ride they arrived at Hotel Catedral, a quaint, boutique inn on the outskirts of the city. The room was cramped, but clean, and after a quick shower, they both laid down and quickly fell asleep. The next 2 days were spent drinking, lounging on the beach, and making love. Tara awoke late Sunday morning and started packing. While she would miss relaxing on the beach, she couldn’t wait to get back home to her apartment. Her stomach had been bothering her on and off throughout the trip and she thought it may have been the water she was drinking. They took a taxi to the airport and the trip home was uneventful except for a few severe stomach pains Tara had on the flight. She took a few more pain pills and they eased up enough for her to take a nap. They barely had time to walk through the door when Tara felt a sudden urge and bolted to the bathroom. “Are you okay?” Michael called from the hall. “Fine, just gimme a minute!” Tara snapped, and Michael went in to the living room and laid down on the couch. When Tara had finished in the bathroom, she stood up and saw something strange in the toilet. It looked like what appeared to be several small balloons floating in the water. “What the…” Tara stared confused, and called for Michael to come into the bathroom. He popped his head in the door and looked at her questioningly. She pointed to the toilet and he shook his head as if to say, “I’m not going in there.” Tara walked to the sink and grabbed a pair of tweezers sitting near the mirror. When she reached towards the toilet, Michael yelped, “What are you doing?!” “Shush, hold on!” she said. She pulled back the tweezers and pinched in the end was one of the balloons. She carried it to the sink and quickly rinsed it off. Michael came closer and said, “That came out of you?” ‘Yeah, gimme something to cut it open.” He produced his pocket knife and she proceeded to make a small slice down the center of the balloon. A white powdery substance spilled from the cut. “Oh my god, it looks like drugs! Tara exclaimed. “How did this get inside me? It must have been the dentist! I told you we shouldn’t have went down there for dental work! What are we gonna do?” “Maybe we should go to the emergency room and get checked out? Michael suggested. “Ok but we should just say our stomachs are hurting and not say anything about the drugs. We don’t want them thinking it’s ours and taking us to jail.” After spending 4 hours in the ER, a CAT scan and bloodwork, the couple was assured that they were in perfect health and probably ate something bad. They headed home, relieved there were no more foreign objects in their bodies but worried about what to do about the dentist. “He can’t get away with this, said Tara excitedly, he probably does this to tourists all the time!” “But if we call the police and tell them our story, they might think we’re involved somehow,” said Michael. They arrived back at their small Austin apartment and decided to eat some dinner and think the matter over some more without rushing to alert the police. After all they were safe at home and had no plans on leaving the country any time soon. Maybe they could just put this whole thing behind them like a bad dream. A crazy story to tell the grandkids. Once the dishes for dinner had been washed and Tara was settling down on the sofa next to Michael, a knock sounded at the door. “Who could that be? “Michael asked. He got up, slowly walked to the door, and peeped through the eyehole. On the other side of the door were 3 well-dressed Latino men. The one standing closest to door was dressed in black pants and jacket with a tucked-in turquoise shirt. He spoke first. “We know you’re in there and you have something that belongs to our boss.”

I wrote two stories so far Murderous Twins (Mystery) and Pregnant at 18 (Drama n Romance) total words for both 27000

THANK YOU FOR THIS. I LOVE TO WRITE AND I NEEDED INSPIRATION!!!

My First Story.. I woke up late that morning, too excited to sleep at first and then I don’t remember when I dozed off to sleep early morning. Bright sunlight hit my half open eyes and I jumped off from the bed. It was 8:00 am already.

“Mama … why didn’t you wake me up? Has he left already?” Mother smiled “Its Sunday! Didn’t felt like waking you up from deep sleep you were in, besides you must have been dreaming, there was beautiful smile on your face. And don’t worry Papa won’t go without you.”

I was super relived and ran to hall, where my dad was ready, waiting for me. “We are going to City, right?” He simply nodded and smiled “Now get ready else we will miss the bus”

I ran to bathroom for shower and within seconds was out and in front of mirror combing my hairs. “Dry them properly, your hairs are wet, you’ll catch cold”

But here I was holding my dad’s hand and pulling him out of the door. We took bus from the bus stop and were on our way to City.

Finally the day had arrived when I was going to get my first Bicycle. It all started when my dad promised to get me Bicycle if I score good marks in final exam next year. All my friends had their own bicycle. Even my juniors had their own.

I patiently waited for one year to get my dream bike.

On the result day I was very nervous. When there was announcement that I stood first in 5th C, I jumped up in air and almost snatched my report card from our class Teachers hands.

I was telling everybody on my way back that I was going to get bicycle, since I stood first in class. After reaching home I told mom about the result and she was very happy. Then dad came back from work in the evening, he was very happy to hear about my results and patted on my back.

“So you are going to get me Bicycle” I said with glimmer in my eyes. “Let’s see” he simply said taking off his shoes

I was almost broken in tears to hear those words. He had not said no but neither did he say yes. I broke down “this is not fair, you promised”.

Next day, mom broke the news to me that finally I am going to get my Bike this Sunday.

Squeezing sound of halting break of bus brought me back to present. “We have reached, Lets go” said dad.

We reached the Big Bicycle store in Gol market. There were so many bikes, I just couldn’t take my eyes off. I picked the one with Marron color. Salesman explained the features to me. I looked at dad expectantly, he nodded and I hugged him.

Dad went in to meet the shop manager, I waited outside to see my bike being assembled by the worker. I saw dad having conversation with the shop owner. I don’t know what was wrong but dad came out.

“Let’s go now we will come next week, and take this Bike home” dad said with his fingers in my hairs. I couldn’t believe my ears. After waiting for almost a year I am getting my bike and now he is saying to wait for one more week.

I threw his hand away in disgust and ran away to hug my bike and started crying. Dad tried to convince me that He had assumed the Price of Bicycle to be lot less. And now he doesn’t have enough cash to buy this bike.

But I refused to budge down. I was so much carried away by anger, I couldn’t see the nervous face of my father. It must have been really awkward for him to face this situation.

“Okay. Let me see what can be done!” he went in. I waited outside partly sobbing and partly smiling.

Few moments later dad came out smiling. I knew he had bought the bike and we were going to be taking it home today. This was happiest day of my life.

It took me few years to understand that my dad had sold his ring that day to fulfill my wish!

This is what I’ve got so far:

Capt. Lee asked for interrogation volunteers. The Interrogation Rooms were full and there weren’t enough interrogators. Lt. Jones volunteered. She told him thee was a suspect in Interrogation room D. Should be easy — a straight-up homicide. Just tape the confession.

Entering IR D, he saw an inconspicuous middle-aged man. Inconspicuous? Maybe 100 years ago.

Lt. Jones introduced himself and sat down. He sat down and said he was there to get the man’s side of the story. Then he turned on the recorder. The man looked at him with amusement. “Do you really want my confession” he asked. Jones said he needed the man’s name and address first. “All right. I am Daniel Alan James, address 132321 Atlantic Avenue, Plot D3.”

Jones looked up sharply. “That’s a cemetery. Your real address please.” I get the nuts, he thought.

“I am not ‘pulling your leg’ as you so quaintly think. That is my address.”

“As to my confession. In 1869 in Palm Beach, I burgled May Palmer’s house I got a sackful of jewelry. I also hacked off her head. Sternly he looked at Jones. “You kept that back. He acted like that fact should have been publusged,, like he wanted credit for it.

“In 1920, in Miami Beach, I attended a speakeasy. I abducted a somewhat plump girl, Cynthia Handel, and eventually disposed her of in the Dismal Swamp.” Chuckling, he continued. You could say the alligators had a fine meal that night.

In 1936, Cleveland, Ohio. I presume you’ve heard of the Torso Murders there? The Mad Butcher of Kingsbury Run? It was never solved. Poor Eliot Ness — he wanted so badly to be Mayor of Cleveland and not just Safety Director. That case would have given him the Mayor’s office. I denied him that.””I

Above the gables of the orphanage roof, a tremulous, gentle sound began to keen. It began quietly, as oh so fragile a thing. I held my breath where I had awakened in my bed to keep from drowning it out- the sound of a human singing through a violin.

I knew exactly who it was that sang. She had come in just that day, eyes wide, mouth closed, and a violin case clutched to her chest like it was the only thing she had left in the world. I was older than her and so in a different dormitory, but still the sound found its way, sorrowfully, lovingly, through the still night air.

The sound of it made me want to cry, as it stirred in me a pain I’d long ago learned to shove away, the origin of which was the only thing that me and the little virtuoso child shared. It unfurled itself deep within me, reaching out for the sound as it grew, grew louder and more powerful as the beginning upset turned to something more violent, something filled with righteous indignation at what had happened to her… to… to me. Tears welled up in my eyes and I curled into my pillow as I fought the onslaught of emotions. The anger, the injustice, the harrowing *grief*. It all slashed and dove and resonated through the air- through my soul. I curled around the reopened wound, feeling the unreleased cry of pain inside of me. But the tears still fell. They were like rain.

Suddenly the vibrancy in the tone fell flat. The last ringing note was undulating through the air, twisting with fading passion, as a quieter, stiller strain took its place. Dispirited and exhausted, the muted notes struggled to find me, and I imagined them getting lost. It was both a relief and a loss as I felt the raw emotions drain away. It felt… hollow. It was like how I usually felt only much, much worse, the sheer weight of it making it a pain all its own, although it signified the absence of it. It was a rock I couldn’t push off my chest, or a vacuum inside of me. It *hurt*.

Still, my eyes dried as I listened to the dispassionate, lilting notes. They bumped into each other with pattern but no passion. The lack of colour in it compared to everything else the little violin girl had played almost made me want to cry again- for her this time, instead of me. I wanted to comfort her. To tell her that she could find a family here again… even if it wasn’t the same.

But then- then something magical happened. I heard something in a note shift. Just ever so slightly, regaining some of its lost fullness. My heart jumped against my rib cage at it, like a baby bird too eager to be out of the nest. The sound broadened and deepened, spinning and growing to an unimaginable size and intensity, filled with such thought and memory as one can only know inside themselves. I couldn’t imagine that something of such monumental size was coming from such a tiny person and her instrument- no, her partner. Her friend. It had to be her friend to join her in all this.

The graceful creature grew and grew on when I thought it could grow more. Time had lost all meaning to me as it tapered and streamlined itself into something lighter- losing its weight and despair- but not its memory. That stayed. I could feel it within me, too- the warmth that was spreading through the song. It touched at my fingers and toes, the tip of my nose, and the center of my belly. I let out a breath as the weight- the vacuum, whatever it was- released, no longer afraid of it or drowning out the soaring melody that cozied into the corners of the resting place of me and so many others that had experienced what this other child was experiencing right now.

But I knew, as the music carried on through the night, a peaceful balance between love and light and sorrow, that she was going to be just fine. We were all going to be just fine.

This inspired me so i tried it came up with this so far

Things have been difficult lately. Even breathing seems to take a lot of effort. But grief often shuts people down. And everything seems to blur out. You must be wondering what broke me? Nothing just the same old heartbreak that broke souls in every time period.

That night I made my way Aden’s house. We had been dating for almost four years. He had asked me to marry him a week ago and I had to ask my parents if they accepted they’re daughter to get married at 21. To my surprise my parents had said yes and I was on my way to blow Aden’s mind with the amazing news. I rang his doorbell several times even though I knew where they key to the door was kept but manners were still important. After fifteen minutes of standing out the door my mind started exploding with thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking about. Aden’s car was still parked in the garage which meant that he was still home. I rushed to get the keys from under a plant pot and opened the door. Aden’s house was a mess but Aden was a clean freak. I made my way to Aden’s room and gently opened the door to see my whole world crashing in front of me.

Aden lay in bed with another women pressed to his side as they slept. No words, no tears just an apology. Just two words “ I’m sorry “ and I ran down the stairs, across the street and away from the person I had given my everything.

You see every person leaves a mark behind. But Aden , Aden left behind the deepest scars.

(please don’t judge, I’m only 12. And btw I’m a girl. I’m using my dad’s account)

It’s dark. My own shadows drown me. This is nothing new to me though, I’m not shocked or scared. Just lonely. Nothing to look forward to I’ll thing myself sitting and think, hoping. I don’t know how long this lasts, seconds, minutes, hours. I can’t sense the time passing, I don’t fully understand it. I don’t know how I got here or when I’ll leave. My life feels like it has no meaning. But yet, somehow I feel like I’m waiting for something, this longing for something to happen. But at this moment in time…I’m not really sure. I must have had more than this life, I must have lived in something different, color, happiness, friends, family….love…maybe, or is that me dreaming?

Have I lost my mind completely now. Maybe I’m not even here, In this darkness. Am I just mad? Why am I even asking…I’ll never get an answer. Sitting here hoping dreaming will do me no good! I must fight back. I’m not sure what I’m fighting for but if I do have a motive to fight then it must be worth it. Without thinking I lunge into the dark clouds. Fighting, not with any weapons but just by my longing for whatever is outside this lonely cage. The chains of my fear and uncertainty tug at my arms pulling me back but using all my force I shake them off and continue forward through the endless darkness…This place must end. There must be an ending for me, more than this dark realm. I jump forward, ready to scream as I hit the floor but I don’t have to. I didn’t fall…Am I..floating?

No, I don’t feel like I’m standing. I feel something on my hand but I can’t see what it is or even move to shake it off. Then I suddenly realize. The thought that I’ll no longer be lonely, this thing I feel, it’s a person. These thoughts, my feelings they allow me to take control. I slowly open my eyes. It all shoots my at once colour…light! I’m lying down on a bed, a hospital bed. My memories come soaring back. I look over to my right hand and see the lady holding it, in shock, but smiling brightly. It’s my mother! And in what seems like the longest time ever…I smile.

Clark stood at the window and watch as the first snow started to fall. He thought back to when he was a little boy and how he loved to go outside and play in the snow. The snowmen him and his sister would build, the snowball fights him and his friends would have. Then his smile changed to a sad face. He remember the last first snow fall that happen when he was a kid. That was the last time he was happy about seeing the snow. Clark’s father Ernest was at the local convenience store, when two mask men came in to rob the place. One of the robbers told Ernest to give him his wallet. He did but a long noise from the back of the store in scared the robber that he jumped and the gun he had pointed at Clark’s father went off and shot him in the chest.

Clark was home in the bed, but he jumped up out of his sleep, he felt that something was wrong. He got out the bed and went looking for his mother. When he got to the end of the hall he saw his mother at the door talking to some police. She turned when she heard the floor Creek. ” Clark honey, what are you doing up”? His mother asked with blood soaking red eyes . ” mother is everything alright? ” with every step he took closer to his mother he knew that what ever reason the police was at his house it wasn’t good. Every since that Dreadful night Clark, the night his dad was killed, he has hated the snow. It always seems to remind him of that night. It’s like all the good times he had in the snow was replace by the death of his dad, his hero, the man he wanted to grow up and be. They never did find the guys that robbed that convenience store.

Conceited Conflict

Simon did not die…

The inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee had been enough to persuade him to walk straight into the little beach-side shack without as much as a second thought. He had made a mental note to thank Danny–his colleague and friend–for suggesting the place for a quick getaway.

People close to Simon knew that he savored these small pleasures of life: a peaceful evening relaxing at the beach, the blushing horizon as the sun set for the day, the scents of the tropical sea, the areca nut trees swaying to the music of the breeze, the waves at the shallow end lightly caressing his feet, the warm texture of the sand slipping away beneath his toes, children running around flying colorful kites… cocoa-rich dark chocolates, and fresh coffee.

And why not? After all, he thought, what was life without these? Nothing but a stressful grind, it was. To fight the distressing official battles day in and day out. To struggle to defeat the unethical schemes of the back-stabbing lot who lurked among colleagues and friends. To come back home to the nagging demands of a materialistic spouse. All that did nothing good for the soul.

It was late evening when Simon had walked toward the shack. When he got closer, he had noticed two men standing engulfed by the dark shadows behind the shack. Although he could not discern their features, and they were speaking only in whispers, their body language had betrayed the fact that they had been exchanging an agitated conversation.

As Simon was about to enter the shack, one of the men thrust a wad of money into the other’s hand. The other man briefly regarded the bundle before stuffing it into his trouser pocket.

A drug deal, likely–Simon had thought–or some other such shady business. How could these people come to such spectacular and peaceful places and engage in such disreputable and squalid acts? What a disgusting lot!

He had shaken his head to clear his thoughts, and inhaled deeply as he entered the shack. Freshly brewed coffee! He had smiled as he sat at a small, round, plastic table in a corner. All other concerns would have to wait for half an hour, at least.

Outside, unknown to Simon, the deal had been concluded. The men had followed up by exchanging a small vial of some sort. Then one of them had raised the hood of his jacket over his head and walked away swiftly without turning back, with his hands in his pockets. The other man had vanished into the darker shadows behind the shack.

The next afternoon…

Although–when it concerned professional life–Danny lacked severely in the department of moral and ethical values, he was regarded in their circles as a gem when it concerned friendship. He had rushed to the hospital at once when Simon’s wife had called. Dysentery–she had told him, repeating the doctor’s diagnosis–perhaps acute food poisoning. Very severe symptoms. Quite unbearable. Must have been something he ate yesterday.

Danny had stayed on at the hospital with Simon’s wife to lend her moral and emotional support. He wanted to make sure–he had said–that she got all the help she needed; he wanted to make sure that Simon recovered all right.

The third evening…

Simon rested motionless on a bed at St Sebastian Hospital. Motionless. Still. He wasn’t even breathing. He was finally free of all suffering.

Epilogue 1…

Normally, convincing a chemist and obtaining the required substance might have been the biggest challenge. On this occasion, however, a well-maintained friendship with a pharmaceutical assistant had proved quite rewarding.

The rest was simple to plan and execute. Simple did not mean without risk, but in this case the desired reward would be sufficient compensation for the risk.

The dosage would be just right. The doctor would have only the patient’s symptoms to go on, which would be easily mistaken for those of common diseases such as food poisoning or dysentery.

It would all be over even before anyone suspected foul play. Even if other signs did manifest afterwards, there was no incriminating evidence.

Epilogue 2…

Simon had felt the first signs of fatigue when he was almost half way back home from his getaway spot. He had believed that the nausea was caused by travel-sickness. Later that night his condition had become worse, and next morning he had tried home remedies for diarrhea. By afternoon, he had started discharging blood, and had to be hospitalized immediately.

Danny had stood by his bed in the hospital, looking in his weak eyes, holding his hand reassuringly. Behind those heavy eyelids, in those weak eyes about to close, Danny had seen a faint spark of realization. The reality of the deal he had witnessed behind the coffee shack had dawned on Simon. I wish you understood, my friend–Danny had thought–that it was nothing personal, that everything is fair in professional rivalry. In any case, it was too late now. There was no turning back.

Don’t strain yourself trying to talk–Danny had said–Just close your eyes, let go and relax.

— End —

(I’m only 12 so don’t judge me, I tried :D)

I’m alone. I’m surrounded by darkness. I’m lonely, I have no-one except silence to keep me company. I’m not sure how long I’ve been here…Minutes, hours….days? They mean nothing to me, I don’t know how time passes and why it matters. I’m too close to giving up. Surely my life must mean something. I can’t have been made to just be nothing, to exist only feeling, loneliness and fear. The fear of being forgotten, by this world, by myself. If I’m not already.

There must be meaning for me, something bugger, better. It’s all I want, all I ever dream about. A life with meaning, color, happiness…family. But that’s just a dream. That can’t be real, I have no memories out of this place why would I be suddenly be gifted such happiness. Is this it? I am going mad? Have I been here so long just lost my mind? No. That can’t be. I can’t give up, I must try….try escape this realm of darkness. I stand up, shaking slightly. No, I must be strong! I run forward, not sure where I’m going. Not sure if this place even ends.

I start hearing voices, they’re speaking to me… “stay…strong…everything’s going to be ok” I hear the voice saying. It was comforting, gentle and kind sounded. It sounds familiar….I run faster, using all of strength. I race through the darkness, wind smacking my face until I come to what looks like the edge. It was a drop, so deep I couldn’t see the bottom. Without thinking, using all my desire, the want to be somewhere with meaning and happiness I lunge forward and jump.

I…I didn’t fall. I’m alive, I think. I don’t feel like I’m standing. Wait, am I floating? No, don’t be silly. I’m…lying. I feel something touch my hand but I don’t have strength to even shake it off. I can’t see anything…Then suddenly reality hits me. I slowly open my eyes…It all hits me at once: Color, sound, people. I look over to my right hand to see who was holding it. She was crying but smiling at the same time. It was mother. And for the first time in what seemed like forever, I smiled.

“I’m borrowing one of your geese.”

Asta jumped in her seat by the fireplace, woken from her accidental nap. She whirled in her seet to see Jeppa, the slightly unhinged neighbour, filling the doorframe. He looked like any regular farmer, brown coveralls and pipe dangling from the side of his mouth, but sported a permanent wide-eyed stare that made the children (and everyone else) wary of him. Asta had half a mind to go back to sleep and let Jeppa be Jeppa, but curiousity got the best of her.

“Pardon?” She asked, slowly getting up, her arthritis crackling in her knees. “You’re borrowing what?”

“I’m borrowing one of your geese,” He repeated, unblinking. Then he turned on the spot, as if the conversation was over and done with.

“But why?” Asta exclaimed, hopping after him on stiff legs into the front yard. Three of her large, snowy geese were drowsily waddling through the hole in her white fence as Jeppa marched over and seized one of them by the neck. The other two hurried into a nearby hedgerow, abandoning their brother to fate. Jeppa stood there for a moment and admired the view over Asta’s fields, completely obvious to the furious flapping and hissing of the goose.

“What are you doing? Let go of him!” Asta cried, but Jeppa remained blissfully ignorant to the chaos he created.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Jeppa sighed happily, still unblinking. Then, remembering why he was strangling a goose, he heaved it up under one arm and took off towards his own rickety cottage a few hundred yards down the gravel road.

“Wait!” Asta cried, limping after him. When she finally caught up to him he was crawling up a worn ladder propped against his roof, hissing goose tucked into his armpit as if it was nothing more than the daily newspaper.

Finding her best old-angry-crone voice, she howled; “Jeppa! Get down this instant! What on earth are you doing with Herman?”

This seemed to reach the decision centre in Jeppa’s head, and he stopped on the topmost rung. He stared at the wobbly chimney for a moment, as if pondering its existence, before replying. “I can’t afford a chimney sweep,” he commented simply. Then, with both hands, he heaved the goose up in one fluent motion and dumped it into the chimney. The hissing and flapping increased in volume, projected into the open air by the narrow chimney, until it became unbearable to listen to. Then it stopped. The goose must have fallen into his fireplace.

Asta’s mouth fell open. She sat down on her bum like a baffled toddler.

“Are you alright there? You look like you saw a ghost!” Jeppa chuckled obliviously as he descended from the roof and moved to let the goose out of his kitchen. The moment the door opened, a great, fluffy black thing scuttled out and down the road, hisses and quacks flying about it like the soot covering it.

“That,” Asta said, her voice quivering, “was my prized competition goose, Herman.”

Jeppa finally seemed to realise the extent of his actions. Wringing his hands he inched towards the door, hoping to use it for protection when she exploded, which she was bound to do.

“Isn’t… isn’t there a competition for black geese, perhaps?” Jeppa asked, hopefully unblinking.

Most short story ideas I have are too big write in just one sitting. The first one I wrote took months. It’s why I can’t write flash fiction.

I’m trying to write Flash Fiction. I love the challenge. It’s amazing how you can cut out redundant word from each editing. Try it, Sebastian. It’s good practice.

Okay, here goes: Persephone, Persephone Akeldama. She was a beautiful girl, slender waist, flowing blonde locks, petite figure. This quiet girl was often referred to by her fellow students as the “perfect doll”, due to her stunning looks and the love she received from the teachers. In a the darker half of this world, her nickname was not much different. The flawless puppet, she was called. Flawless because of her swift assassinations, and puppet because of her emotionless features. No one in school knew her profession, and no one in the dark world knew her real age, or even what she looked like. She was a complete mystery to both sides, only this was known about her: She is a prodigy. Of course, “Prodigy” meaning different things in either sides of the world. There was a large gap between prodigy killer and prodigy student. Not many assassins are born into their jobs, Persephone being an exception. At three, she was already trained to fight, and at the early age of twelve, she was already a well known assassin. due to her quick learning, her parents payed even more attention to her, punishing her whenever her actions did not fit into the range of perfection, training her more than any twelve year old should ever have to endure. And of course, making her kill. One by one, Persephone’s emotions died, every person she killed, every order she received. She carried them out with swift and deadly accuracy, losing all her innocence. Her purity was lost long ago.

So she found nothing wrong with killing her parents.

Persephone never loved anyone, because she was a killing machine, exactly how her parents had designed her. Her mothers last words: I’m so proud. Her fathers? :I’ve trained you well. A now orphaned Persephone felt no remorse, no guilt, no grief. Only a small pang of loneliness.

And that was the last emotion she would ever feel.

Ummmm, I got the juices flowing, just need my writing to flow……in the right direction.

So I combined all 10 of the “general ideas” into one premise. I think this is more the premise of a collection now… Oh well. Here’s the premise (or the rough draft)

As a child, Kell, a painting prodigy, discovers her parents’ dead bodies, leaving her emotionally scarred. Later in life, she clings to her boyfriends for moral support, which leads to many failed relationships. Her Fiance and colleague breaks up with her because he needs to spend more time on his work, even though it crushes both of them. Kell doesn’t look when she’s walking down the street, sobbing, and she bumps into her rich soulmate, Neil. They have a whirlwind romance, which ends up with their marriage. On their honeymoon, though, Kell’s mother’s ghost confronts her and warns her to delay the journey. Kell and Neil go anyways. A hurricane strikes, and the couple is stranded with a phycopath who just so happen to be Kell’s parents’ murderer. The couple doesn’t make it out alive.

I know that’s pretty dark, especially for a 17-year-old. It’s also not that great. But hey, I hope it gave you an idea or two! Happy writing!

You should really think about turning this into a novel! You’ve got quite the imagination.

The last laugh Kate Bester

“What? Oh heavens no! When?” Faye dragged the pink sweatband back from her forehead and shook her shoulder length blonde hair off her neck. She had just returned from the gym when the house phone rang.

“…sometime last night, peacefully. She had to go sometime, Faye.” Debbie’s longsuffering voice was irritating.

Faye sighed and shifted the weight from one shapely leg to the other. She crossed one ankle over the other and stared at her Reebok trainers. She bit her tongue before she could blurt out what came into her mind – why now? She had a very special and important occasion coming up and serious shopping to do!

“Mom was nearly eighty, you know Faye, but death is always unexpected, I know,” Debbie went on. Was she imagining it or was there a touch of accusation in Debbie’s voice? Deborah, her older sister, had never married. Instead, she stayed with Mom after Dad passed on ten years ago and took charge of the rambling old house in George. Come to think of it, when Debbie gave up nursing, moving in with Mom was the natural thing to do.

Faye had to muster all the self-control that she could to sound genuine and concerned. It was Mother after all…

“When is the funeral, then? Do you want me to come and help you with the arrangements?” she kept her voice low and even in case Debbie thought she was serious about the offer to help.

“No thanks, Faye, everything is fine. Mom had everything in place as usual. It will be a cremation of course…”

Debbie’s voice trailed off and Faye could just about suppress the groan that escaped from her chest before she said goodbye to her sister. She sank down in the closest, huge, overstuffed chair after she had put down the receiver. Of course. That is Mother. Well, was she corrected herself. Nothing ordinary or conventional. A cremation no less, so that all her old hippie friends could attend in their colourful rags and long hair and chant and blow their flutes and shake their tambourines. Faye had to admit to herself that a cremation at least would be better than embalmment. Her mother was quite capable of having them roll her in the scales of the boophone bulb like the Khoisan did with their dead.

Faye groaned again. She must be in shock otherwise why wasn’t she crying. Crying? No, she’d done enough crying after the second divorce in eight years. The last one was particularly messy but this time she stuck to her guns and got the house and a stiff alimony. Not that it’s about the money, which is never enough anyway, but one has to keep up appearances. She had spent a fortune on refurbishing the gazebo next to the pool. Oh gosh yes, and she must still pay for the embroidered voile curtains around the patio. And for the plant containers and cane furniture from Bali…

Faye sighed as she levered her challenged limbs from the chair. She will have a warm shower and then make her calls. Damn! Now she will have to drive all the way to George. She smiled. Yes, she will have to. Because of Mother’s pendant. She had to have it. Must be worth a small fortune by now…

That pendant was given to her mother by a very grateful Indian businessman. Mother had met him on a plane to Mumbai all those years ago when she travelled to India to see for herself what mysteries lay behind the lotus curtain. She ended up in his luxurious home and taught the whole family to speak English while she enjoyed every facet of that exquisite culture. If memory doesn’t fail her, the pendant has a top quality eleven carat flawless ruby, enhanced by… a shiver of delight passed through Faye’s body despite the warm gush of water.

At the garage to fill up and prepare the vehicle for the trip, she remembered how bored she was on weekends as a child. They travelled endless dusty roads, slept in tents, either sweating or freezing. Her botanist parents would be off in the veld , ooohing or aaahing, clicking their tongues and cameras. Deborah would be whooping somewhere in a shallow river. In her tent, her feet against the anchor pole, Faye swore she would never live this way. She would have money and everything it could buy. These bunny-hugging weirdo’s – her family – may enjoy the outdoors but she despised the smell of citronella candles, morning coffee and tinned food. Not to mention the squatting behind a bush when nature called. Ugh!

At nine o’clock the next morning, Faye was over the Overberg Pass and heading for Caledon. She would stop for tea at the Blue Crane and buy some of her mother’s favourite dried herbs. Yes, some buchu and lavender and rosemary. She’ll keep them on her lap during the cremation service and speeches to soothe her mind. Afterwards she will let them join her mother’s body to nirvana…

It was exactly twenty past one when she saw the huge pine trees and the red brick house behind it. The garden was a botanist’s dream. Like her mother exactly – colourful, mysterious, exciting and completely unusual. Faye’s eyes followed the garden path up to the porch. Handfuls of laurel tied with raffia or beads or leather thongs garnished the pathway from the gate to the porch and around the open door’s frame where fairy lights twinkled.

She opened the car door and slid off the seat. The manicured feet in the Blahnik sandals stepped together neatly on the tarmac as she automatically pressed the remote lock. Gingerly she approached the garden path and as daintily as possible made her way to the house.

Then it hit her. This wasn’t a welcome for her. The laurel symbolized Apollo’s way to remember his Daphne! Daphne didn’t want to marry Apollo and begged her father, Perenaeus, to hide her. He promptly turned her into a laurel tree. From then on Apollo worshipped the tree, hugged it, spoke to it and let all heroes and kings wear a laurel wreath on the head as adornment. This was for Mother.

Suddenly, there was her sister. Oh heavens, clad in a flowing caftan, pearls, beads, feathers and leather thong sandals, she could’ve been Mother!

Quickly Faye went over and folded her sister in her arms. While her sister was yoga-breathing against her shoulder, she took in the room behind. She smiled to herself . Ostrich feather boas were draped over the window frames, door frames and thrown over the backs of chairs. Huge black and white photographs of ostriches in all poses adorned the walls. Ostrich eggs and paraphernalia were displayed everywhere. This was a shrine to the ostrich as Nieuw-Bethesda was to the owl…

She let go of Debbie and cleared her throat. She took a deep breath, “Debs, what are we going to do with all this stuff ?” she hoped her chicanery would go undetected. Back in her mind there was an image of Mother’s ostrich leather handbags, shoes and purses she had collected before it became export posh. Her heart went on a gallop from excitement and anticipation.

At last they were alone. They cleared away the last few cups and plates. In the kitchen, Faye poured two large tumblers of Merlot for her and her sister.

“Sis, if you’re up to it, we can go through Mom’s things and decide what to do about some of it.”

“Of course, my dear.” Faye gulped.

Then the pendant was in the palm of her hand. This was a testing moment. She wanted to hang it around her neck immediately but thought it would seem callous. She let the heavy gold chain slide sensuously through her fingers while the ruby’s red eye winked at her.

“You have it, Faye, it’s too ostentatious for me. Mom also never wore it for that reason.”

“And these, Sis.” Debbie was on all fours in front of a deep drawer. She was pulling out ostrich leather gloves in every colour, handbags, clutch bags, more boas. They lay on the Kelim carpet like offerings to a queen. Faye stared and stared. “Oh yes!” her mind sang.

After breakfast the next day, Faye took her leave of Debbie who promised to visit as soon as everything was tied up and settled. When she was passing Mossel Bay, she started to relax and fingered the pendant at her throat. A warm glow filled her and she stretched to see it again in the rear mirror. It was an exquisite piece! She still felt surprised at how nonchalant Debbie was.

She decided to stop for refreshments outside Swellendam. She enjoyed stretching her legs in the shade of the old trees and watching the goats, chickens and ostriches they kept there for entertainment. She parked in the shade of a huge oak tree and went to the restaurant. She carried her fruit juice over to the enclosure on the lawn. A billy goat came towards her. Behind him a young ostrich craned its neck. A sheep, two lambs and a kid trotted up. Faye leaned forward.

She shrieked, jumped back and feverishly fumbling at her throat, she saw it

Ostriches also like jewellery.

I have not written a very long piece. It a quite short story. So…here it is…

Sydney woke up with a start, as beads of sweat adorned her furrowed brows. Next to her was her twin sister, Tanya, sleeping peaceful as Sydney had been a couple of moments before. She looked around as if searching for something or someone. Sydney almost dismissed the episode and went back to sleep when she heard it again, this time, even evident. The sound that had woken her up from her slumber. The sound that made her shiver and was even vexing than the sound of nails on chalkboard.

And then, it stopped. She looked around her for the source of what she heard. She decided to get some fresh air and walked out of the room she shared with her twin.

As she walked to the porch, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She couldn’t put her finger on what was wrong but she knew something was. She leaned in to get a closer look at her reflection when something hit her head and she fainted. When she regained her consciousness, she looked around her. She was in the porch and it was dawn. She went back into her house when she glanced at the mirror again. She could see her mother, her sister and her father. They all looked around as if searching for someone. What she couldn’t understand was why she couldn’t see her reflection in the mirror. Then, realization struck her like a ton of bricks. She was in the other side. Of the mirror.

Then the ending credits rolled in. Though it was just a trailer, it was well shot. Everyone couldn’t wait to see the full movie. We congratulated our friend, Mills, who had shot the film and went to hang out at her place.

Wonderful ideas. Thanks for inspiration.

*I’ve been wanting to write for a long time but never really got the push until right now. Sorry if it’s bad, it’s my first short and I’m 14* “One, two, three. Perfect, now I can go…” I quietly say to myself. I have something called Pure-O. Some people think that it’s worse than “normal OCD”. The others think that it’s completely unreal and it’s made up. What people don’t know about me is that I have Pure-O and it’s completely real and my life revolves around it. I make sure that people don’t find out about it because I am considered “ popular and high-status” where I live. “ Happy, good thoughts. Nothing bad.” I think to myself. “They won’t find out….hopefully. I am Claire Williams who has the best makeup and the straightest hair. Not the Crazy Williams girl that broke down in front of everyone because her presentation wasn’t how she planned it.” I think. Then the flashbacks swoop in and fill my brain. “Hi my name is Claire Williams and I am doing my presentation on the Economic Downfall of 2008…” I pause and look around. I see people snicker and talking. The teacher is just looking at me and gesturing for me to continue. I get scared and forget everything that I worked so hard to memorize. “Umm. I’m sorry ma’am, I can’t finish.” I tell my Economics teacher. When I try to move and collect everything, I can’t move. “No no no no no this can’t be happening. I can’t be having a panic attack at school.” I think to myself. I feel tears well up into my eyes. They slowly fall down my face and I taste the warm salty fluid. I suddenly tense up and can’t breath. Because no one knows about my condition, no one can help me. “Look! Williams is going crazy! Crazy Williams.” I hear people snicker from the back and the attack gets worse. I hear something new in my flashback…. It sounds almost as a ringing. I realize the bell is ringing for the students to get to class. I come back to reality and hope for the best on my first day of Senior year. I mean after all, it’s just school. Nothing bad could happen right?

PEN-082a 694w Anne Frank, Bella and Me by Helen Kudatsky

At nine, I bought my mom, Bella, a birthday gift on June 12th, a magenta lipstick for 19c. I was so proud. First present I ever purchased. She made me return it; It was too extravagant, and besides, she said, “every day is my birthday.” I cried. I knew her secret though. although a proper Jewish woman, sometimes she longed to be a gypsy.

Now, 60 years later, I’m reading “The Diary of a Young Girl” by Anne Frank, here in the home where I live. Though nursed, I’m often blue that I can’t dance or paint anymore. But I love to read and write, and my friend, Julie, the librarian, kindly brought me Anne’s book, which I am now devouring.

Anne was an eloquent writer, describing her schoolmates and boyfriends. She began the diary at 13, disclosing her first period, having a special secret and becoming a woman. I too began to menstruate at 13, pondering the mystery. It’s horrid to imagine eight people in 1944, crammed into the Secret Annexe, handling eating, sleeping, hygiene and trying to stay alive, while whispering and tiptoeing to avoid discovery by the Gestapo.

To maintain normalcy, the adults set up a plan. The children continued their studies: Dutch, French, English, history, geography and art. Although Anne liked most subjects, she found algebra notably loathsome. I’m in that club too.

Her people have become my friends and family: Anne Frank herself, Edith, her Mummy, Otto, her beloved father, Margot, her sister, and the others hiding with them: the VanDaans, their son, Peter who was first, her friend, then later, her crush and confidant, Dr. Albert Dussel, the dentist and Moortjie, the cat. Four of Otto’s devoted employees provided food, supplies and world news, which kept them alive and boosted their morale.

After the war, Miep, a helper, found Anne’s diary in the demolished remains and rubble of the annexe. She gave it to Otto, the sole survivor of the group. He was stunned by Anne’s maturity and the breadth of her feelings. The Diary has been published in 67 languages, portrayed on stage and screen, and is considered one of the most moving accounts of the Holocaust.

For those of us beholding atrocity, Anne Frank is a beacon: humorous, inquisitive, forgiving, cheerful. Sometimes moody, though, she was nicknamed “the incurable chatterbox.” as she’d quarrel with others in the Secret Annexe they occupied for their 25 months in hiding.

My mom, Bella, shared a birthday with Anne Frank, June 12th, but didn’t know of it until years after Anne’s death. Bella lived to be 95. She loved reading as much as Anne did, and she wrote poetry and stories, but didn‘t start until middle-age. Anne, 15, died in March 1945, just two weeks before the war’s end, when she would have been liberated. In two years of hiding, Anne was devoted to writing in the diary, at times prosaic, sometimes distraught, frequently terrifying, but often funny, spiritual and uplifting.

If the war had only ended sooner, I imagine the writing that Anne could have produced and I envision Bella meeting her. Bella, born in 1913, Anne in 1929, 16 years her junior, they could have been aunt and niece; I see them sharing a Shabbat dinner, singing a Hanukah song; I picture them speaking one of their languages. They believed in the same things. Finally, I dream of them proudly sharing their writings, a mystery, a story of love and longing, a poem, and of course, on June 12th, their mutual birthday.

I dream of them walking hand in hand, pale wrinkled fingers holding a smooth teenaged palm. They come to a table set before them, on it matzoh brei with applesauce, a plate of potato latkes with sour cream. There are apples and honey, wine and rugalech. Bella and Anne eat heartily and shout for joy, no longer whispering or tiptoeing, no longer afraid to be Jewish women writers, no longer afraid at all.

PEN-082a-Anne Frank, Bella and Me.wps by Helen Kudatsky w:09/03/17 ei 09/19/17 694 wds 08 mn 99 Park St.#104 Brookline,MA 02446 C-617-939-3387 e-m: [email protected]

My story plot is of the fantasy/adventure type.

In the fictional town of Surron, Colorado (which is surrounded by high mountainsides from every angle, a tragedy occurs on September 5, 1963. Six-year old Robert “Bert” Aruson witnesses his drunken, abusive father murder his mother with a broken beer bottle. Advancing on him, the father sleeps on another discarded bottle and trips, impaling himself on the bottle with which he killed his wife. Robert runs off into the forest to escape his father to look of help, unaware of his father’s death. With his parents living far back into the woods, he ends becoming lost and spending the night in the forest. A mother bear, Dewa, with two cubs of her own, the boy Gemape and girl Biha, discover the young boy and adopt him into their family, christening him with the new name Nuun. Ten years later in 1973, Nuun has led a happy existence with his loving and supportive new family, having even made new friends like the crow Hai and the mouse Naeene. He even prevented unnecessary violence between his family and a wolf pack led by Dande and Gupa. Any hunters that come into the forest have their weapons stolen and permanently disposed of in the night by Nuun. By this time, Nuun and his actions have become something of an urban legend in Surron. Back in that town, the mayor Aaron Burdon (who resides upon a hill overlooking the town) runs the town, though he views it with contempt due to one incident. His younger brother, Reagan, was beaten by thugs hoping to steal money off of his rich person, leaving him with brain damage. Despite this, the townspeople started treating him and his brother differently afterwards, cruelly even. This has caused his hatred to ferment over the years until he comes up with a plan to destroy the town’s population with explosives at the upcoming July 4 picnic. His wealth and power make the workers unable to resist him, as they will become jobless should he imprisoned. “Nuun” comes across one of Burdon’s worksites and almost steals workers lunchbox, but is chased away. News soon spreads through the town and Nuun finds his happy life in danger of being shattered once again unless he can have assistance from friends both human and animal.

Nikita This is the story of me, Nikita, an orphaned girl, who didn’t know anything about her family. I was kept in the orphanage with a bunch of other girls. Ms.Keeper, the owner of the orphanage doesn’t tell anyone anything about themselves or their family. I didn’t know anything about myself, but everyone knew that in Ms.Keepers room there was a filing cabinet with documents of the real stories of our lives. Nobody ever dared to go in there though. Ms.Keeper looked like she was somewhere in the 30’s, she had grey hair, bags under her brown eyes, a slim body and a huge pimple on her long nose. She was not married. I have brown hair, brown eyes, freckles and a healthy, slim body.

I always thought of running away. I felt like I was in that orphanage forever. I remember growing up in there since I was a child and now that I’m 17 years old, I’m still here, hoping to find my family. But that, I thought was too unrealistic. I was sitting in an orphanage, hoping to find my family. No, I wanted to DO something to find my family. The only thing that held me back was Ms.Keeper and the thought that I really had no family. Ms.Keeper was always afraid of one of the girls running away, that’s why she made some workers put a stronger fence around the orphanage property. Ms.Keeper was also afraid of talking to the government. I thought so because the government will shut down her orphanage. One time, I overheard Ms.Keeper talking on the phone to the government and they said that it was illegal to not show the orphans their identity and who they are, but Ms.Keeper ignored them and kept talking about something else. Also, at 18 years old, you are free to leave the orphanage and become independent. I just turned 17. No one else was my age except another girl, aged 14 and all the rest were smaller than her. There was once a girl named Gabby who was the only person who was older than me. Just last year, she turned 18 and was supposed to go. On her birthday, Ms.Keeper made an announcement at the last moment that Gabby was leaving right now and is right by the door. Every girl ran out to give her hugs and goodbyes. Ms.Keeper didn’t even move. She didn’t even say bye. It was so cruel of her. We didn’t have a birthday cake with Gabby because Ms.Keeper threw her out the door on her birthday!

Everyday, Ms.Keeper lets us go outside for one hour, three times a day. We ate mostly sandwiches and drank water and sometimes juice. We also had some snacks, which were mostly fruits. We did school during the day too but this wasn’t real school. Ms.Keeper taught us everything. Ms.Keeper also bought us a TV, which was in the dining room. We mostly had everything we needed, except a family.

One day, when Ms.Keeper let us go outside, I was lying on the grass by myself at the farthest point from the orphanage. Then all of a sudden I heard someone coming. I looked up but saw no one. When I turned around, I saw a boy, looked like he was 15. He had brown hair, blue eyes and was tall. He said “hi” to me and I said “hi” back. We talked to each other for awhile until Ms.Keeper called us in. I really hoped that Ms.Keeper didn’t see me talk to that boy because she would punish me.

For the next three days, I talked to that boy over the fence every recess. He told me about his life and it really surprised me. He said he had a house as big as the whole orphanage (the orphanage is as big as a hotel). He said he had his mom and dad living with him, that he has money, any kind of drink, and lots of junk food. He played video games everyday and watched TV and also he quit school. His mom and dad don’t care about what he does as long as he’s home by midnight! When he told me this, I started thinking, is every life out there like his? What is everyone’s else’s life like? I couldn’t sleep that night or any other night after that day.

Soon, we became friends and he asked if the orphanage was boring. I didn’t even know what to say because it was alright living in the orphanage but compared to his life, it was nothing. I didn’t say anything and he asked if I wanted to run away to his house. I, of course, was surprised and didn’t say anything for awhile but then I said I would think about it. Ms.Keeper called us inside, and I don’t know why but she never caught me talking to him. Ms.Keeper usually stands by the door of the orphanage, looking into the field of how we are playing. I was farthest away from her so maybe she doesn’t see so well.

After those days, I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking of running away. But how was I supposed to run away? If I got caught, I would be punished and I would have to be a slave to everyone, washing dishes, sweeping, and cleaning. Besides, I couldn’t run away because we all slept in rooms with four people to each room. Our room was the farthest away from the exit. I would have to tip-toe (at night?!?) through the whole orphanage just to get to the exit. No, I couldn’t do it. I was too scared. But that boy kept assuring me that everything will be okay.

I talked it over with the boy and I decided to run away with him at night, at 11pm because he had to be home by 12pm. By 8pm, all the girls in the orphanage would be sleeping, but Ms.Keeper stays up till 10pm, listening to classical music in her favourite rocking chair. As not to wake Ms.Keeper, the boy suggested that he would come to my window at night and I would climb over. Our room was on the lowest level – level one- so it was the closest to the ground. It was supposed to happen in two days from then. I was very nervous and scared, and I kept looking at Ms.Keeper if she had any suspicions, but it didn’t look like it.

It was the day of the run. I packed all my stuff, which wasn’t really much. I put all my clothes in my pockets (it fit perfectly). I was wide awake that night, listening till Ms.Keeper turned off her classical music and went to bed. It was perfectly silent. You could hear every single breath of the girls. My tummy had a trillion butterflies in it and I couldn’t stop my heavy breathing. At 11pm, there was a quiet knock at my window and I knocked back. That was our signal for letting each other know we were ready. I then looked at everyone in the room. They were sound asleep. I opened the window and it’s super squeaky. I waited a moment to see if anyone woke up, but no one moved. I climbed over the window to the boy. I closed the window with a loud squeak and started running with the boy to wherever my feet let me go. It was a dark night and only the half-lit moon was our source of light. The boy led me through streets and streets of houses until we came to a huge house. It was so pretty. It looked like the orphanage but it had no spiderwebs. It was clean and super nice. It looked like they were rich to have all those diamond stuff on the door.

They boy opened the door and the light hurt my eyes. It was so bright in there, so big. The stairs were curved, like I only saw in fairy tales, and there was his mom standing in the doorway. She first smiled, but when she saw me, she made a confused face and came closer. I was so scared. What would his mom do? Did he tell his mom about me? My brain threw me a thousand questions to answer of which I didn’t know the answers for. The lady came closer and asked the boy slowly who I was. He told his mom that I was a friend from the orphanage. His mom got angry, her face started to turn red and she started to talk louder. She started saying that I’m filthy and that she doesn’t want to see me ever again and to get out off this house. I looked at the boy. He started to cry. I tear went down his cheek. He begged his mom to let her stay for the night but his mom didn’t budge. The boy’s mom shut the door on me and I was outside in the cold.

All of this was for nothing. This meet we had. All the recesses we talked, all the nights I didn’t sleep, and I couldn’t go back to the orphanage now. I was alone. I didn’t even know where to go. I got off the boys lawn and I sat down on the sidewalk, crying and I realized I didn’t even know what the boy’s name was! Suddenly, I heard a door open. I looked back to see if it was the boy’s mom. No, it wasn’t. I looked around and saw that the boy’s neighbor has opened the door and was calling me. The person at the door was a grandma. She told me to come in. I stood up and came inside. She told me that she heard the neighbors talking loudly so she went to see what the commotion was about. She asked me if I wanted to eat but I refused. She sent me to bed, not knowing anything about me. She was so kind to me. She sent me upstairs where I had my own room. I fell asleep very fast, and I slept till lunch the next day. I forgot all about the orphanage and went downstairs to meet my hero. She was making breakfast for me. We sat down at the table and she told me her name ( Grandma Laura ) and I told her all about my life. Every single thing. When I came to the part about the orphanage, her eyes widened.

Grandma Laura told me that many many years ago, she was the owner of the orphanage! The government fired her because they thought she wasn’t suitable for the job. When she went away, she made photocopies of the documents of the girls and kept them because the girls were so precious to her that she couldn’t just leave them. Grandma Laura stood up and went upstairs to go get them. When she came back down, she had a whole ton of documents! She found one by the name of Nikita.

That morning changed my life. She let me read my own document. It figures out that my real mom died while having me. My dad was still alive. My dad’s name was Walter Eggons. The grandma’s eyes widened when I told her the name of my dad. She told me that that was her husband! So Grandma Laura was my mom? She didn’t die? But Grandma told me the whole story. My dad, Walter, first married a lady named Agnes, and they had a baby named Nikita ( that was me) and during childbirth, Agnes died, but I lived. Later, my dad could no longer care after me so he dropped me off at the orphanage when I was 1 year’s old. For my dad, that was a hard decision. He had to work but he couldn’t leave me at home and there was no one to look after me. After my dad’s wife died, he married Laura. Laura was sitting in front of me, tears in her eyes and on her cheeks. She then told me the saddest news- my dad died of cancer a couple months ago. I started choking back sobs, and then tears. Grandma Laura was the only family I had. She was my stepmother.

It has been seven years since that happened and right now I am sitting with tears in my eyes, telling you this. I live with my stepmom and my husband, Jeffrey. Turns out that after that day, I lived with my stepmom for a couple months but then the boy’s mom found out that I was still in this neighborhood. The boy was so happy to hear that, and he told me his name- Jeffrey Jones. We soon joined our friendship together and a couple months later, we were married. Also,he wasn’t 15 years old, like I thought, he was 17.

-Written by Nikita Eggons-Jones

I hope you like this so far tell me what to improve on.

Gunnvor is the daugter of a powerful samurai but that is only thing that they have in common. Her father is a ruthless man who fights for war, on the other hand Gunnvor fights for humanity, no one can see her true colors because they want to believe she wants bloodshed as well like her father. She hates their thoughts, imprisoned in her fathers hand, the only way to escape, is for some one, like her, to save her in the outside.

As she swoon her sword with grace she sliced the broom like heads off. Her father and mother were observing her progress as a warrior, when she was do she went to her parents and bowed. She left leaving them behind a cold chill settled on them, the mother knew why the father ignored. Gunnvor loved to walk in the town down below her house, all the people were Good-hearted and kind in every way. She sometimes is jealous of the children for having such free lives. But she does not listen to her selfish conscience, she walked across the flower bridge as a gentle men suddenly bumped into her. “Oh sorry about that I didn’t see you,” Gunnvor quickly got up embarrassed for fall. She looked up and saw man that was strong but kind, she then noticed that he didn’t recognized him, he look like he was from another country. She then suddenly pulled her sword pointed it near his neck. the man was taken aback, he looked shocked and then said ” Yes did I say some thing offensive.”

“your not from here are you,” She moved a little closer, her sword started to dig into skin. “Yea I’m just traveling, I came from the neighboring kingdom, I thought they were in good terms…..right?” He backed away a little from the sword cutting his neck. Gunnvor then lowered her sword slowly, The man rubbed his neck just to find that it is bleeding “by the way what is your name,” she sheathed her sword in it’s case. “My name is gunnvor,” He quickly whipped his head to her “What the, Gunnvor, the daugter of the samurai.”

“Yes.” she turned and started to walk away and stop slightly turned her head ” And you,”

“Uh my name is Cota.” he said then Gunnvor walked away, when she arrived at home she swept past her father to her bed room. That night she could not stop thinking of Cota, she thought how strange he was dressed and the way he looked. The next how ever her father again trained gunnvor, the train this time was diffrent, he was pushing her to far.

Many days have past and Gunnvor noticed that Cota was spotted many times near her house. Then when she training with her father which was basically torture, Cota came up to her father ” You will stop hurting her,” He said slowly and manically. However he was not moved “My wife has convinced you to protect her,”

“No I came In my own accord.” The father then spun and grabbed his sword and pointed to cota. “Well then can fight me,”

“We”l see,” cota grabbed his sword and the two fought, they fought for a few hours and the father was vanquished. Cota then went to Gunnvor and asked her hand in marriage.

Nikita This is the story of me, Nikita, an orphaned girl, who didn’t know anything about her family. I was kept in the orphanage with a bunch of other girls. Ms.Keeper, the owner of the orphanage doesn’t tell anyone anything about themselves or their family. I didn’t know anything about myself, but everyone knew that in Ms.Keepers room there was a filing cabinet with documents of the real stories of our lives. Nobody ever dared to go in there though. Ms.Keeper looked like she was somewhere in the 30’s, she had grey hair, bags under her brown eyes, a slim body and a huge pimple on her long nose. She was not married. I have brown hair, brown eyes, freckles and a healthy, slim body. I always thought of running away. I felt like I was in that orphanage forever. I remember growing up in there since I was a child and now that I’m 17 years old, I’m still here, hoping to find my family. But that, I thought was too unrealistic. I was sitting in an orphanage, hoping to find my family. No, I wanted to DO something to find my family. The only thing that held me back was Ms.Keeper and the thought that I really had no family. Ms.Keeper was always afraid of one of the girls running away, that’s why she made some workers put a stronger fence around the orphanage property. Ms.Keeper was also afraid of talking to the government. I thought so because the government will shut down her orphanage. One time, I overheard Ms.Keeper talking on the phone to the government and they said that it was illegal to not show the orphans their identity and who they are, but Ms.Keeper ignored them and kept talking about something else. Also, at 18 years old, you are free to leave the orphanage and become independent. I just turned 17. No one else was my age except another girl, aged 14 and all the rest were smaller than her. There was once a girl named Gabby who was the only person who was older than me. Just last year, she turned 18 and was supposed to go. On her birthday, Ms.Keeper made an announcement at the last moment that Gabby was leaving right now and is right by the door. Every girl ran out to give her hugs and goodbyes. Ms.Keeper didn’t even move. She didn’t even say bye. It was so cruel of her. We didn’t have a birthday cake with Gabby because Ms.Keeper threw her out the door on her birthday! Everyday, Ms.Keeper lets us go outside for one hour, three times a day. We ate mostly sandwiches and drank water and sometimes juice. We also had some snacks, which were mostly fruits. We did school during the day too but this wasn’t real school. Ms.Keeper taught us everything. Ms.Keeper also bought us a TV, which was in the dining room. We mostly had everything we needed, except a family. One day, when Ms.Keeper let us go outside, I was lying on the grass by myself at the farthest point from the orphanage. Then all of a sudden I heard someone coming. I looked up but saw no one. When I turned around, I saw a boy, looked like he was 15. He had brown hair, blue eyes and was tall. He said “hi” to me and I said “hi” back. We talked to each other for awhile until Ms.Keeper called us in. I really hoped that Ms.Keeper didn’t see me talk to that boy because she would punish me. For the next three days, I talked to that boy over the fence every recess. He told me about his life and it really surprised me. He said he had a house as big as the whole orphanage (the orphanage is as big as a hotel). He said he had his mom and dad living with him, that he has money, any kind of drink, and lots of junk food. He played video games everyday and watched TV and also he quit school. His mom and dad don’t care about what he does as long as he’s home by midnight! When he told me this, I started thinking, is every life out there like his? What is everyone’s else’s life like? I couldn’t sleep that night or any other night after that day. Soon, we became friends and he asked if the orphanage was boring. I didn’t even know what to say because it was alright living in the orphanage but compared to his life, it was nothing. I didn’t say anything and he asked if I wanted to run away to his house. I, of course, was surprised and didn’t say anything for awhile but then I said I would think about it. Ms.Keeper called us inside, and I don’t know why but she never caught me talking to him. Ms.Keeper usually stands by the door of the orphanage, looking into the field of how we are playing. I was farthest away from her so maybe she doesn’t see so well. After those days, I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking of running away. But how was I supposed to run away? If I got caught, I would be punished and I would have to be a slave to everyone, washing dishes, sweeping, and cleaning. Besides, I couldn’t run away because we all slept in rooms with four people to each room. Our room was the farthest away from the exit. I would have to tip-toe (at night?!?) through the whole orphanage just to get to the exit. No, I couldn’t do it. I was too scared. But that boy kept assuring me that everything will be okay. I talked it over with the boy and I decided to run away with him at night, at 11pm because he had to be home by 12pm. By 8pm, all the girls in the orphanage would be sleeping, but Ms.Keeper stays up till 10pm, listening to classical music in her favourite rocking chair. As not to wake Ms.Keeper, the boy suggested that he would come to my window at night and I would climb over. Our room was on the lowest level – level one- so it was the closest to the ground. It was supposed to happen in two days from then. I was very nervous and scared, and I kept looking at Ms.Keeper if she had any suspicions, but it didn’t look like it. It was the day of the run. I packed all my stuff, which wasn’t really much. I put all my clothes in my pockets (it fit perfectly). I was wide awake that night, listening till Ms.Keeper turned off her classical music and went to bed. It was perfectly silent. You could hear every single breath of the girls. My tummy had a trillion butterflies in it and I couldn’t stop my heavy breathing. At 11pm, there was a quiet knock at my window and I knocked back. That was our signal for letting each other know we were ready. I then looked at everyone in the room. They were sound asleep. I opened the window and it’s super squeaky. I waited a moment to see if anyone woke up, but no one moved. I climbed over the window to the boy. I closed the window with a loud squeak and started running with the boy to wherever my feet let me go. It was a dark night and only the half-lit moon was our source of light. The boy led me through streets and streets of houses until we came to a huge house. It was so pretty. It looked like the orphanage but it had no spiderwebs. It was clean and super nice. It looked like they were rich to have all those diamond stuff on the door. They boy opened the door and the light hurt my eyes. It was so bright in there, so big. The stairs were curved, like I only saw in fairy tales, and there was his mom standing in the doorway. She first smiled, but when she saw me, she made a confused face and came closer. I was so scared. What would his mom do? Did he tell his mom about me? My brain threw me a thousand questions to answer of which I didn’t know the answers for. The lady came closer and asked the boy slowly who I was. He told his mom that I was a friend from the orphanage. His mom got angry, her face started to turn red and she started to talk louder. She started saying that I’m filthy and that she doesn’t want to see me ever again and to get out off this house. I looked at the boy. He started to cry. I tear went down his cheek. He begged his mom to let her stay for the night but his mom didn’t budge. The boy’s mom shut the door on me and I was outside in the cold. All of this was for nothing. This meet we had. All the recesses we talked, all the nights I didn’t sleep, and I couldn’t go back to the orphanage now. I was alone. I didn’t even know where to go. I got off the boys lawn and I sat down on the sidewalk, crying and I realized I didn’t even know what the boy’s name was! Suddenly, I heard a door open. I looked back to see if it was the boy’s mom. No, it wasn’t. I looked around and saw that the boy’s neighbor has opened the door and was calling me. The person at the door was a grandma. She told me to come in. I stood up and came inside. She told me that she heard the neighbors talking loudly so she went to see what the commotion was about. She asked me if I wanted to eat but I refused. She sent me to bed, not knowing anything about me. She was so kind to me. She sent me upstairs where I had my own room. I fell asleep very fast, and I slept till lunch the next day. I forgot all about the orphanage and went downstairs to meet my hero. She was making breakfast for me. We sat down at the table and she told me her name ( Grandma Laura ) and I told her all about my life. Every single thing. When I came to the part about the orphanage, her eyes widened. Grandma Laura told me that many many years ago, she was the owner of the orphanage! The government fired her because they thought she wasn’t suitable for the job. When she went away, she made photocopies of the documents of the girls and kept them because the girls were so precious to her that she couldn’t just leave them. Grandma Laura stood up and went upstairs to go get them. When she came back down, she had a whole ton of documents! She found one by the name of Nikita. That morning changed my life. She let me read my own document. It figures out that my real mom died while having me. My dad was still alive. My dad’s name was Walter Eggons. The grandma’s eyes widened when I told her the name of my dad. She told me that that was her husband! So Grandma Laura was my mom? She didn’t die? But Grandma told me the whole story. My dad, Walter, first married a lady named Agnes, and they had a baby named Nikita ( that was me) and during childbirth, Agnes died, but I lived. Later, my dad could no longer care after me so he dropped me off at the orphanage when I was 1 year’s old. For my dad, that was a hard decision. He had to work but he couldn’t leave me at home and there was no one to look after me. After my dad’s wife died, he married Laura. Laura was sitting in front of me, tears in her eyes and on her cheeks. She then told me the saddest news- my dad died of cancer a couple months ago. I started choking back sobs, and then tears. Grandma Laura was the only family I had. She was my stepmother. It has been seven years since that happened and right now I am sitting with tears in my eyes, telling you this. I live with my stepmom and my husband, Jeffrey. Turns out that after that day, I lived with my stepmom for a couple months but then the boy’s mom found out that I was still in this neighborhood. The boy was so happy to hear that, and he told me his name- Jeffrey Jones. We soon joined our friendship together and a couple months later, we were married. Also,he wasn’t 15 years old, like I thought, he was 17. -Written by Nikita Eggons-Jones

Yoyoyo its generikb here and today we are playing roller coaster tycoon

Anyone got ideas for a short story titled as Leornard’s Fatal Oversight. In need of help asap.

Ugh, this is getting do frustrating! I thought to myself as I struggled through the streets. My ankles kept twisting every time I slipped. Heels are so not comfy. I shouldn’t have worn them. As if my struggle wasn’t enough, people were pushing me as they passed me by. I was being shoved left and right amidst the bustling sidewalks of New York. Feeling fed up, I decided to lean onto a nearby store to regain my balance. What an awful idea it was. Unfortunately, I have miscalculated the distance between me and the store and I ended up leaning on thin air. I tried to right my footing before it was too late but I ended up tripping on my own feet. With a loud oomph I slammed into a passerby. Papers went flying around us as we both fell to the ground.

“Oh my gosh! I am so sorry.” I tried to hurriedly stand up but I ended flat on the ground again. “I didn’t mean to! I was just trying to lean on the wall to regain my balance since it’s the first time to wear heels, and oh my god, it is very hard and painful.”

The person nodded quietly and started gathering the papers. I got to my knees and tried to help. “I was supposed to be looking smart for today’s meeting, but I don’t think it’s been working out so well. I bet I look as smart as a baboon’s butt.” I heard the person chuckle but I went on with my rant, “I also bet that I am a total mess; I don’t how will I meet everyone at work this way. Oh man! They sure will give me an earful of criticism!” I didn’t realize I had been holding on to the few papers I collected while he tried to pull them from my grasp. “Oh, I am so sorry, once again,” I said still holding on to the papers while I got up, “I didn’t realize I was holding on to the documents…it’s not like I’ve read them; I’m just guessing they were documents as your suit looks neat and yeah.” I tugged gently on the lapel of the suit and finally raised my eyes to his face. My eyes probably widened as I saw him for the first time. To cut it short, he was hot! Like smoking salmon hot; or more like hot chili pepper that Indians eat hot! Now I’ll give all the details, I know you want them…I would want them if I was listening to one of my friends telling me such a story. Anyways, he stood a good foot or so taller than me. He had light brown hair styled backwards. His angular, defined jaw was covered with a five o’clock shadow. Bright hazel eyes shone with amusement as a slight smile covered his lips. “I don’t usually talk to strangers as much as I do. God! I’m coming off as talkative! I am not usually the talkative type; I seriously don’t know what is wrong with me today. And whoa, you look handsome,” my eyes widened in shock as he raised both eyebrows, “Did I say that out loud? Oh my god, I said that out loud. I didn’t mean to say that…I don’t mean you’re not handsome, because you’re one hell of a man; I just mean…Ugh! Now I’m coming off as a weird man-gazing half-crazed stalker. That is if I’m not fully crazed. I don’t think I’m making any sense…I should probably get going.” I went to turn around when I felt a tug onto something I’m holding to. With a confused look I looked to my hands and found the stack of papers. With a not so faint blush, I handed him the papers, “I’m sorry again.” I threw my hand behind my shoulder pointing in the opposite direction, “I should probably get going,” I said with a sheepish smile. I turned to leave again, but I was stopped…again. He cleared his throat, “I think you’re forgetting something.” “Um…no, I think I’m,” I turned his way to find him holding my bag. I awkwardly stepped to take it and said, “Thanks. I’ll see you around, not that I know where you are…I’ll just get going.” I took my bag and headed off in the opposite direction before I could embarrass myself any further. As I waited for the subway, I recalled what just happened and face palmed. I took the short ride to the office to compose myself. I was in for a surprise once I entered the meeting room, though. The man I bumped into was standing at the head of the table. “Good morning everyone, before starting today’s meeting, I would like to introduce you to the company’s new CEO…” Well, I wasn’t expecting this. I sat rigidly on the chair once we were told to. “Good morning everyone, I am Nathaniel and I am looking forwards to working with everyone on this team,” he said with a smile on his face. “Mr. Nathaniel, I would like you to meet our best employee, Ms. Felicity Brown.”My boss pointed my way and I wish he hadn’t. Nathaniel’s eyes found mine. They were filled with amusement. Oh this was going to be a long day.

And this, kids, is how I met your father.

A great (and family friendly) writing site is http://www.storybird.com

I might write a story about a girl who was born a princess but all her family died on a ship except her aunt and cousin…she gets taken to an orphanage and everyone else thinks she died too and she gets adopted a few Years later she goes to school and everyone is talking about her…one days she finds out that… oh u want to know well I’ll probs write a story about it on wattpad so u can look for it, it will be called…A princess???

Four new members have a look at couch on top of Crestwood center ship

high school graduation sports activitiestrail Softballand therefore Swimmingbeach ball Tennismales adolescent girls info Field HS HS WrestlingCollege Pro Submit ScoresSubmit

WRIGHT TWP. In all perhaps had to be the most significant reorganization matching presented among Luzerne regional 11 institutions zones, Crestwood school panel swore located in four sign ups compared to the ne member, repairing incumbents which are either of them missing in action unique reelection tenders belonging to the primary or elected to get not to research another phase.

wayne Brogna, Stacey Haddix, Kimberly Spath and thus Lauren McCurdy got been sworn appearing in thursday night. The four bought conducted completely considering that the to produce enhancement community. really earning incumbent from a big part that do survived habitual grievance in past times two very long time came anna Hollock Bibla, which will garnered your ex first four year terms the particular snowboard. you become a member of in 2017 because of profitable an exclusive two year sitting.

The aboard had been proven a good solid director in just cost Jones deleted the primary. He extended in the direction this quite get-together ahead departing the barrier. But contact considering his or place for year isn an exciting new face. really 5 4 election with all four rookies in opposition of, james Costello vice president in the past year came branded president.

following the meeting, Brogna documented can lone even talk to gain themselves even so that he fully Costello ran into finished loads of dubious ballots the actual game board during the last two growth cycles. he explained he’s talked containing Costello together n’ your own questions that can the pup, but admitted no sign ups may possibly well most try out the us president job, if he or she. so which he wasn safe voting for Costello.

barry Boone is unanimously specified as vice chairman, Maureen McGovern came chosen assistant, and after that Brogna been recently branded as treasurer.

all of the reconstituted block have their first finding for normal establishment votes arrange for Dec. 19, Five days right after the contract over curious law firms in order to post proposals on a structured feasibility study, sense my blackboard can have to be able to merit a legal contract.

Four newbies your day Crestwood their school panel accept the promise of health care office at some stage in thurs reorganization talking. right between lead are actually Stacy Haddix, Kimberly Spath, Lauren McCurdy and as a consequence randy Brogna. 17 public speaking.

while prompt wednesday authorities chairman paul Belusko should become aware of if will probably be at center arena this booked careers class a better or at site of the event thus more people beautiful vietnamese women may easily give priority to.

Belusko proclaimed she will be polling an additional four authorities musicians in email’s over the past weekend on recommendation mayor choose George light brown undertaken especially during tuesday night time seeing replace the to and time production for the.

looking to you can keep them respond back to me made by the following thursday, Belusko considered that Friday.

maybe authorities decides to transfer an appointment it provides a week in order to place and with seating rather than a unique fourth area chambers.

was regarded as thinking that it is recently doing open talking long before the performance visit someplace (home buyers and thus local authority or council) may questionthings just to associated with us transfer to the author’s your job session. which unfortunately whatever i thinking about, Belusko claims.

you will most likely plumbing service in sunday night-time show results demonstrations that when local authority or council could not vote on awaiting the law. comments together with inquires are allowed even though council monday date the general public get togethers. timetabled start.

village owner david Gazenski suggested it authorities call on which direction to start.

over council if that they move this approach to a different store, Gazenski alleged.

nearly as Belusko may reaching out to authorities, so too will white because of main receiving area for the mans professional recommendation.

I get distracted super easily, but I started writing down my most intrusive thoughts. 1, it helped me remember them, and 2, it helped me focus on the task at hand. From intriguing concepts to funny-sounding words. Some are quotes for funny dialog, some are character quirks. Now I have a list of really bad, really creative ideas that deserve to be told and deserve to die. Simultaneously.

For example, “Becoming so good at keyboard shortcuts that they do precognitive Googling” “A vegan who is transformed into a dog” “A math curriculum that hires voice actors from pop culture to voice the lessons ” “A character (probably lonely) makes a friend online and goes in for a fist bump with the monitor, only to break it.”

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Nathaniel Tower

Juggling writing and life

How To Sell Short Stories for Good Money

Last Updated on February 18, 2024 by Nathaniel Tower

I recently saw a meme regarding Little Women and Jo’s $100 prize for winning a short story contest. According to the meme, the truly sad part of Little Women is it shows writers that rates for short stories haven’t changed in the past 100 years.

While there may be some truth to this, there are definitely ways to make money with short stories. As managing editor at Bartleby Snopes , I hosted a writing contest that once awarded over $2000 for a single short story. Not a bad payout for a single story that was less than 3,000 words. Certainly better than what Jo got.

In 2023, there is a lot of opportunity to make more than $100 per story, but you have to know exactly what to do with these stories to make the big bucks.

How to make money with short stories

If you are trying to get rich as a short story writer, you might want to rethink your goals. But that certainly doesn’t mean you should stop writing short stories, nor does it mean you can’t make money from them.

In full disclosure, I do not make a living writing short stories. I have made a very good living as a writer, but that has been for business/marketing writing, which is quite a bit different from writing short stories. However, I have had over 300 short stories published , including dozens from paying venues. The most I have ever made from a single short story is $500, and my total income from short stories in the past 10 years is around $5000. Not a ton of money by any stretch of the imagination, but enough to feed part of my vinyl addiction.

Upon hearing these numbers, other writers routinely ask me how I’ve managed to have so much success with my short stories . Apparently $5000 from short stories is pretty good. Granted, there are publications that pay a lot for a single story, but the type of writing I do isn’t a good fit for those publications.

My shortcomings as a writer aside, let’s dive into how you can make money from your short stories.

How do you sell short stories?

First, find paying venues. This may sound incredibly obvious, but if you want to make money with your short stories, you can’t submit them to publications that only pay you with exposure.

There are thousands of websites and magazines that publish short stories. About 90% of them won’t pay you a dime.

Markets that pay for short stories can typically be divided into these categories:

Pro – Publications that pay 5 cents or more per word

Semi-pro – Publications that pay 1-4 cents per word

Token – Publications that pay less than 1 cent or less per word

There are also publications that pay royalties, although this gets a little convoluted when you are dealing with short stories because you are typically going to be sharing the royalties with all the other published authors in a publication. This often leads to a very small amount of money.

Some publications also “pay” contributors with an author copy, but since this is an article about selling your short stories for money, we aren’t going to consider that a payment.

While some of the highest paying publications are almost impossible to crack with an unsolicited submission, there are some publications with promising acceptance rates that offer more than just a $5 token payment.

Where can I submit short stories for money?

So how do you find these publications that pay money? It’s pretty simple. Use a tool like Duotrope , Submission Grinder , or Poets & Writers. Keep in mind that Duotrope charges subscription fees, but in my opinion it’s the best tool for finding paying venues. And selling just one short story can pay for several years of Duotrope.

There are also websites and Facebook groups out there dedicated entirely to finding publications that pay writers for stories. These lists change all the time, so I’m not going to link any of them here, but you can find them easily enough through a Google search.

I’m going to refrain from providing a long list of places where you can submit your stories for money for a few reasons:

• Submission windows are constantly changing
• Publications frequently update payment policies
• New paying venues are opening almost daily
• Magazines are closing their doors to submissions at an alarming rate

As mentioned above, your best bet is to use a tool like Duotrope that provides almost real-time data regarding paying venues.

How much can you sell a short story for?

The payment you can get for selling a short story will vary wildly based on the publication, the genre, the length, and many other factors.

There are many publications that don’t pay at all for short stories. You can usually determine this by reading their submission guidelines.

For publications that do pay, these are typical ranges for short story payments:

• Exposure – These magazines don’t pay at all, but they might give you a copy of the publication.
• Token Payment – Expect to sell your story for $5 to $25, plus a copy of the publication.
• Semi-Known Publisher – If you sell your short story to a publisher that’s somewhat known in the industry, you should receive at least $100. Some up-and-coming publications may offer a bit more to try to get bigger writers in the door.
• Well-Known Publisher (Genre Fiction) – Publishing your genre fiction (sci-fi, horror, etc) in a well-known publication will typically earn you $500 or more.
• Well-Known Publisher (Literary Fiction) – Literary fiction often pays less than genre fiction. Expect to receive at least $250 when you sell your literary fiction to a well-known publisher.

As of this writing, the maximum rate for a single short story sale to a publisher is $2,500. However, you can potentially make more based on royalties. Additionally, you might be able to self-publish your short story and earn even more income depending on your promotional skills (and the quality of the story, of course).

My #1 method for selling short stories

Almost every time I’ve sold a short story, it’s been because of a venue I found through Duotrope. Although I’m currently not a subscriber because I haven’t been writing short stories, my secret to doing this is checking the new listings feature and sorting by those that offer payments. These venues typically have high acceptance rates because they are just getting off the ground, and they can offer some pretty decent payments because they are trying to attract new writers and readers. This is the exact method I used to sell a single short story for $500.

Finding a publication that pays is only the first step

Once you find a venue that pays, now the hard work begins. You need to get them to pay for your story. Given that most of these venues receive thousands of monthly submissions and only accept a tiny percentage of them, this can be a daunting task. However, there are a few things you can do to improve your odds:

Select your venues carefully – You should only submit your writing to a venue if you strongly feel you have something they will want to publish. This means you will have to read their guidelines thoroughly, and you’ll probably need to study their publication a bit as well. Yes, this takes time, but it also saves time (and the pain of rejection) in the long run. Pro tip – you will increase your likelihood of selling your short stories if you only send your work to publications that allow simultaneous submissions .

Submit to new venues that are paying – Although these will typically be smaller payments, it’s often much easier to get published by a brand new venue. If you are looking for a quick and easy win, I recommend sending your work to these publications first.

Don’t give up – A rejection from one venue is not a rejection of your story as a whole. It’s simply one place telling you they don’t want to invest in your story. Don’t be discouraged by rejection. Continue to send your short story out to paying publications until you get an acceptance.

There are other obvious pieces of advice for selling your short stories, which include:

• Write unique and compelling stories people will actually want to read. Avoid these topics .
• Revise, edit, and proofread your stories until they are perfect
• Develop your author brand and become a known entity publications will want to publish
• Make sure you use proper short story format when you submit your writing
• Follow their submission guidelines exactly

When you are trying to sell your stories, make sure you are sending the right work to the right publisher. For example, don’t send a novella to a magazine that exclusively publishes flash fiction .

Making money by submitting to short story contests

A short story contest can be the best way to rack up a big payday for your short story. It won’t be easy to win, but when you weigh the odds of winning against the odds of getting published by the likes of Glimmer Train, you’ll be better off submitting to a contest about 100% of the time.

If you want to win the contest, make sure you study the rules carefully and submit the best piece of writing you can. Again, this should be pretty obvious, but you’d be amazed by how many writers will throw together something quickly just to see if it will win. Spoiler alert: It won’t.

You can easily find paying short story contests by using Duotrope, Newpages, or other writing resources. Just make sure you thoroughly vet the contests first, especially if they charge an entry fee. Don’t submit if the contest doesn’t seem reputable . After all, you are trying to make money from your short stories, not waste your time.

Sell short stories on Amazon

Self-publishing and selling your short stories on Amazon is another way you can make a decent side income with your stories. It’s important to start with low expectations, and you’ll need to work hard to get the word out about your stories.

I’m not going to give you a tutorial on how to sell short stories through Amazon. It’s actually a very easy process, and you can find a lot of other articles out there that will walk you through the process. Or you can just log in to Amazon’s KDP site and do it yourself without reading any tutorials. All you really need is a well-formatted short story and some decent cover art.

Short story writer C.S. DeWildt has gone the Amazon route with his short stories, and although he hasn’t gotten rich from his writing, he does have some great advice for writers hoping to sell their stories:

“If I had more time to promote my work and could build up a bigger catalog of stories, I know I could be very successful on Amazon. While I haven’t made a ton of money, it’s easy to get your work on Amazon, and it’s a lot more money than I would have made if I HADN’T done it.”

One big advantage of publishing a short story through Amazon instead of traditional publishing is that you can stand to make money in perpetuity. Most of the time, when you sell a short story to a publisher, you’ll get a one-time payment. With Amazon, you’ll collect a royalty every time a copy of your story sells. The downside is that you’ll have to do the marketing to get the word out about your story. Don’t just expect people to find it, although you might get lucky. I have published several short stories on Amazon under a pen name, and one of them was picked up by a rather large news website because of the timeliness and outlandishness of the topic. This led to a lot of sales in a very short time, and the story still brings in a few dollars a month.

The final word on selling short stories

Selling short stories is certainly not a get-rich-quick scheme. However, there is growing interest in the short story genre as people want to read more even though they have less time, and you can make some decent money selling your stories if you work hard and find the right venues or channels of distribution.

If you are having trouble selling your short stories, try some of these other ways to make money as a writer .

Have you had any luck selling your short stories? Share your advice and experiences in the comments. And don’t forget to share this post on all your favorite channels.

Selling short stories FAQ

Can you make money selling short stories.

Yes, it's definitely possible to make money selling short stories. There are hundreds of websites and magazines that pay for short stories. You might not get rich selling your short stories, but this can be a great source of side income.

How much can I make from selling short stories?

How much you make from selling a short story depends a lot on where you sell the story. A typical range for a short story can be anywhere between $5 and $1,000, but it's possible to make even more if you find the right publication or channel.

Can I sell short stories on Amazon?

Yes, you can self-publish and sell your short stories on Amazon. You will receive a royalty for each copy of your story that sells. It's easy to set up your stories for sale on Amazon, but you will need to actively promote your stories in order to sell a lot of copies.

Should I give away my short stories for free?

Giving away your short stories for free or for exposure is one way to get more readers. However, it doesn't often lead to much recognition or future opportunities. If you want to make money as a writer, you need to make sure you get paid for your writing.

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6 thoughts on “ How To Sell Short Stories for Good Money ”

I was just paid $15 for a short story, and I am beside myself with giddiness. I take it as a portent of a good year to come. (That’s 100 times what I was paid the last time — though that payment was in the form of a Liberty dime and a Buffalo nickel, which was the editor’s attempt to show the respect of payment when he had no budget.)

300 stories! That’s something to be proud of.

Paul, that is fantastic! Congratulations to you! Let me know when your story is published so I can read it.

’tis, but it’s print only. Falling Star Magazine 2019.

What website did you post yor stories?

I wrote a short story which is around a 17,000 words and this is my first one and i didnt know where to publish it so, i published it in wattpad. can you tell me if i can make any money with that by submitting it for publishing somewhere else.

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In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit­hole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube­shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats ­ the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill ­ The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it ­ and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining­rooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the left­hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep­set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very well­to­do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gained­well, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit­hole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube­shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats ­ the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill ­ The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it ­ and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining­rooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the left­hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep­set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very well­to­do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gained­well, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit­hole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube­shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats ­ the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill ­ The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it ­ and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining­rooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the left­hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep­set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very well­to­do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gained­well, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit­hole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube­shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats ­ the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill ­ The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it ­ and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining­rooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the left­hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep­set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very well­to­do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gained­well, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit­hole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube­shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats ­ the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill ­ The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it ­ and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining­rooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the left­hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep­set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very well­to­do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gained­well, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit­hole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube­shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats ­ the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill ­ The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it ­ and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining­rooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the left­hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep­set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very well­to­do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gained­well, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit­hole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube­shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats ­ the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill ­ The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it ­ and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining­rooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the left­hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep­set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very well­to­do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gained­well, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit­hole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube­shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats ­ the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill ­ The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it ­ and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining­rooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the left­hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep­set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very well­to­do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gained­well, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit­hole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube­shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats ­ the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill ­ The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it ­ and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining­rooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the left­hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep­set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very well­to­do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gained­well, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit­hole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube­shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats ­ the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill ­ The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it ­ and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining­rooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the left­hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep­set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very well­to­do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gained­well, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.

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How to Write and Sell a Short Story: Tips and Resources for Creative Writers

Tips and tricks to write short stories that sell.

Welcome! If you’re here, you may be a budding author interested in writing a short story OR an established author looking for tips to freshen up your short story approach. For both cases–and everything in between–I have you covered. After the swells of interest in my workshop and talk “Big Punch in a Little Package: Creating Short Stories that Sizzle and Sell,” I thought I’d share an overview of some tips here for both novice and pro writers.

Introduction

Before diving in, a little about me. I’ve published dozens of short stories in magazines, anthologies, collectible card games, and podcasts, including Dark Matter magazine, Andromeda Spaceways , Aurealis magazine; Unnerving magazine, the British Science Fiction Association’s Fission Magazine ; Colp magazine; Cosmic Horror Monthly ; Typehouse Literary Magazine; Lovecraft eZine ; the Stoker-nominated Chromophobia; Dancing in the Shadows: A Tribute to Anne Rice; Six Guns Straight From Hell Vol 3; Field Notes from a Nightmare; Musings of the Muses; The One That Got Away; Shadowy Natures; Beyond the Infinite; Trembling With Fear ; the Stoker-nominated Fright Mare: Women Write Horror ; and many more. I’ve also given talks and workshops on the fundamentals of creating short stories and flash fiction that sells. You can read more about my work here .

In sum, I love short stories. In my day job, I write and edit nonfiction and have a background in journalism. This provided my foundation in writing short form and in understanding the value of brevity.

One quick caveat before you read further: my experience is with genre fiction (sci-fi, fantasy, horror) as opposed to literary fiction, but many of these tips will still apply.

Why write a short story?

In terms of making it as a full-time fiction writer, novels are typically the path to success. So why bother with short stories ? A few reasons:

For those of us with very hectic schedules (I have a full-time job and two small children), short stories can be incredibly practical in terms of time efficiency . You can complete a short story draft in a few hours, days, or even weeks, and turn around edits and revisions far faster than a novel.

2: Practice – hone that writing muscle!

For novel writers, short stories are a new form with their own challenges and joys. Experimenting with short stories can be a great way to dive back into creative writing if you’ve taken a hiatus; if a novel feels too overwhelming; or if you need a productive break from your current WIP. I also find it to be a good “palette cleanser” between writing longer works.

3: Connections

After writing and polishing enough short stories, eventually you will submit and publish those stories in magazines or anthologies (see below for more guidance on selling short stories). This is a fabulous way to connect with other writers, publications, and editors , especially on social media. For new writers, this can also be a valuable way to build up your writing resume, so to speak. And for pro writers, publication in anthologies and magazines can help you reach a new and untapped audience for your other work.

You can have a lot of fun with short stories. Because the time investment is relatively low, it’s easier to experiment. You can try new voices, genres, approaches, and POVs that you might not have a chance to in novel writing. Plus, I’ve heard from many writers–as well as experienced this myself–that short stories can often create a breeding ground for longer, successful works, including a novel. This happened with my debut supernatural western novel MELINDA WEST: MONSTER GUNSLINGER . I wrote short stories about these characters for years beforehand that were well received before diving into the novel.

Reasons NOT to write a short story

Short story rates vary, ranging anywhere from $0 to pro-payments of $.08/word and upwards. Many places pay flat rates, ranging from $5 to $100. This *can* be profitable if you write many short stories. What’s more you can get paid for a story multiple times (to venues that accept reprints, once the rights have reverted to you). However, for most people, writing short stories is not a viable money-making path.

Rarely has a short story writer risen to the same level of fame as novelists. So if you crave that writerly recognition, telling someone your short story is out just doesn’t have the same impact as having a novel come out, unfortunately. Generally, author collections of short stories also tend to not sell as well as novels, at least traditionally.

Short story vs. novel writing: two key differences to keep in mind

1: word count.

While it’s fairly self-explanatory, the easiest way to define a short story is tied to word count. Short stories can range from exactly 100 words (called a “drabble”) or less, to over 8,000 (“novelette” territory). Generally the sweet spot for a short story ranges from 2,000-5,000 words or so, and around 1,000 for flash stories. Note: always check and adhere to the word count requirements of the place you submit to. 

A short story is much more focused than a novel. Instead of having a cast of characters, a short story narrows in on one, or a few, characters. Similarly, instead of many subplots or themes, you really want to drill down on a single pivotal event.

Because it’s so compressed, each part of the short story needs to be very sharp: the beginning and ending lines, for example, are critical. More on that in a minute. 

4 quick tips to make your short stories sing

1: write a killer hook/opening.

The opening is arguably the most important part of a story generally, but it’s especially critical in short stories. Slush readers often won’t get past a first sentence or paragraph if it is not engaging or unique in some way. Resist the urge to open with back story.

Similar to long fiction, the goal here is for the opening sentence to set the mood and hint at the conflict, while also introducing a question (or at least intrigue ) in a reader’s mind. Google “best opening sentences” and peruse some of the lists to get a sense of beginnings that are effective. A few of my favorites are in the image below. All of these introduce questions or intrigue in the reader’s mind.

A word of advice : avoid opening with someone dreaming, waking up, or looking in the mirror. I’ve seen editors again and again say they get too many stories that start this way. So skip those openings unless you have an extremely unique twist.

2: Make sure something happens

I can’t tell you the number of stories I’ve read where nothing happens and it feels like a letdown. Just as in a novel, your character should face some sort of conflict and obstacle, and either rise to the challenge or fail in some interesting way. For inspiration (especially in the sci-fi and horror realms) think of Twilight Zone episodes. These short, snappy stories often have some interesting twist that creates momentum in the piece and leads to a satisfying resolution.

3. Make every word count

In short fiction, your word selection needs to be carefully considered and culled. Consider Hemingway’s six-word story: “ For sale: baby shoes, never worn .” This example is almost overused, in part because it’s so effective at harnessing minimal words to indicate an emotional backstory. Making the reader’s mind work on their own to infer narrative can be an incredibly powerful storytelling technique.

One way to hone your skills in this is to practice writing stories that adhere to a strict word count , for example, that are exactly 100 words, or under 500 words. More tips on this below in the “formula” section.

4: Avoid this common pitfall

A short story is not a vignette, which is one of the most common errors I see when people are just starting in writing short stories. A vignette, like the photographic term it comes from, is essentially a description– painting a portrait with words . This can be a beautiful piece of writing, but *typically* it is not a sellable short story, particularly for beginning writers. Again, in a story you generally want something to happen.

A huge caveat: short story writing can be a fantastic approach to writing experimental and vignette-type stories that don’t focus on building tension, particularly for non western-centric markets. The tips I outline here are geared toward writers looking to create sellable narratives for western markets, so they are focused on building tension and a narrative arc. However , many of the best short stories don’t follow narrative form at all. So, as with most crafts, I encourage you to master the basics and then venture into experimentation.

Additional tips

In a regular workshop I give (check upcoming Appearances for details), I go into detail into a formula that can help you write sellable short stories. For the purposes of this post, I’ll simply say that you want to make sure you have a beginning, conflict, and resolution in a short story. Simple in theory, but this takes attention and practice to get right.

If you need ideas for a story, one method I encourage is looking at an image prompt (e.g., google “fantasy worlds” and click images) and completing the exercise within an hour.

Once you have a rough draft, there are a few things you can do to develop your story. Ask yourself: what would make this story more interesting? More stressful for the main character? More urgent? Can you expand the story, doubling its length? Can you shrink the story, halving its length? Can you tell the story in exactly 100 words (a drabble)?

Reminder: I’m sharing tips on a traditional short story structure , since it’s important to understand the basics. However, many short stories don’t follow these and can still be extremely effective. (It’s like mastering grammar or writing novels: once you learn the fundamentals, you are more likely to succeed when you deviate!)

Selling your short stories: where to submit and how to get paid

One of the advantages of writing in this form is that short stories can work for you long after you’ve completed them. What I mean by this is that many publishers are open to reprints (check guidelines to be sure). Once your story rights revert back to you, you can submit it back into the world again and get paid again , indefinitely.

Story rights will vary by contract, but sometimes rights immediately revert back to you, or you may have to wait a few months up to a year before you can sell that story again. In any case, make sure you track and log when your story rights revert to you , so you know when to get it back out in the submission circuit.

When you’re readying to submit your short stories, I recommend these sites to find what magazine and anthology calls are looking for short stories:

• The Submission Grinder – this is my go-to resource. They share user-generated stats of rejections and response times, and have a useful weekly newsletter.
• Duotrope (paid service)
• The Horror Tree
• Facebook Groups (here’s one for fantasy and sci-fi, and another for horror ).
• Author blogs and websites ( https://www.gwendolynkiste.com/Blog/ is one I especially like)

Places to submit

Here’s a brief list of magazines I recommend keeping an eye on for short genre fiction submissions, particularly in the horror, sci-fi and fantasy spaces.

• The Dark Magazine
• Apex Magazine
• Beneath Ceaseless Skies
• Strange Horizons
• Asimov’s Science Fiction
• Fantasy & Science Fiction
• Cosmic Roots and Eldritch Shores
• The Deadlands
• Clarkesworld
• Andromeda Spaceways
• Flash Fiction Online
• Cast of Wonders
• Shotgun Honey
• Ghoulish Tales
• Cosmic Horror Monthly

Here are just a few of the indie/small presses that put out short story calls for themed anthologies. Follow them on social media or check out their websites for open subs.

• Brigids Gate Press
• Dead Sky Publishing
• Off Limits Press
• Cemetery Gates Media
• Cohesion Press
• House of Gamut
• Sley House Publishing
• Dark Recesses Press
• Cursed Morsels
• Dark Matter Ink
• Tenebrous Press
• Strange Wilds Press
• Kangas Kahn Publishing

Parting thoughts

Make sure to read short stories as much as you can. There are many wonderful online magazines and anthologies (free and paid) to name, but a few great ones to start with include: Uncanny, Nightmare, Apex, Clarkesworld, SF&F, Fantasy, Asimov’s, and so many more!

If you feel overwhelmed and don’t know where to start, one approach I recommend is looking at the previous year’s Stoker or Nebula award winners for short fiction. This way you can find some of the top tales and authors in the short story space.

There are many reasons to experiment with writing short speculative fiction. Loads of magazines and anthology calls pop up every month, and it seems like readers’ appetite for short fiction is continuing to increase. Hopefully these tips help you get short stories out in the world.

More resources

• Tune into this episode of Hidden Gems to hear me discuss in more detail how to write and sell a short story. The conversation includes tips on how to create a strong plot and well-developed characters, the finances of short stories, and much more. Listen here:  https://www.hiddengemsbooks.com/podcast/episode-54/ .
• Read my article “ Level up your writing: how short stories can enhance your writing career ” in Books & Buzz Magazine ‘s March 2023 issue.
• Read my article “ How to Create a Compelling Science Fiction or Fantasy Story ” in Authority Magazine .
• If you’re interested in my full workshop, message me or subscribe to my newsletter to get notice of upcoming events, here: https://mailchi.mp/a9f0d76bba28/welcome . 
• One resource I strongly recommend is this book: A Swim in a Pond in the Rain: In Which Four Russians Give a Master Class on Writing, Reading, and Life by George Saunders. This book is like taking a literary masterclass on short stories. It is brilliant, anything but boring, and a must-read for short story authors.

Do you have a favorite tip, trick or resource for writing short stories? Feel free to drop it in the comments!

Share this:.

Thank you for sharing these resources! I haven’t heard of The Horror Tree before but it seems the link is dead (or at least unsafe on my end).

It looks like it’s working now but if it’s still buggy, you can find them on social media ( https://www.facebook.com/HorrorTree and https://twitter.com/HorrorTree ).

Thank you for the response and the working links! 🙌

Hi. I found you via the hidden gems podcast and enjoyed the interview. I’m a women’s fiction writer who has dabbled in short stories (runner-up in 2 publications). I’m wondering if you know of any short story groups on FB, for writers other than horror/sci fi? Thanks!

Hi and thanks for the question! I suggest trying out this FB group – https://www.facebook.com/groups/OpenSubmissionCallsforShortStoryWriters .

I also recommend this newsletter from Hope Clark – https://fundsforwriters.com/about-ffw/ . It’s an incredible resource with a variety of open calls, ranging from short stories to nonfiction.

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The Creative Penn

Writing, self-publishing, book marketing, making a living with your writing

10 Tips For Writing Short Stories That Sell

posted on December 14, 2016

Short stories can be a creative exercise used to explore a new idea. They can be entered into anthologies or submitted to magazines, and they can be repackaged into collections by the single author.

First of all, I feel like there needs to be a small caveat at the start here. Writing and selling short stories is not a great way to pay the bills. Some people manage this feat, but most don’t.

As with the majority of writing, a variety of different income streams contribute to an overall living. This is true of short stories too.

While you can certainly work your way up into the realms of pro-rate paying magazines and anthologies, that won’t happen overnight. You can also make money from short stories by selling reprints to podcasts, having collections published (or publishing them yourself), and so on.

A successful short story career can also work wonders to spread your name and open other doors of opportunity for you.

And it can serve as a gateway to your novels. So there’s definite benefit to writing short fiction, but only if you love the form and want to add it as one string among many on your writing bow. However, if you do love the form and you want to make a go of short story writing, here are my ten tips for writing short stories that sell.

• Understand that a short story is different to a novel , but it shares a fundamental similarity: it needs to have a coherent beginning, middle, and end. Anything else is a vignette, or something experimental. To sell a story, you need to tell a whole story. The skill is in only telling enough to keep it short, but retaining all that’s required for a satisfying read.

• Don’t try to write for a market. This applies to novels too, but it bears remembering. You need to write the stories you want to write, the stories you want to read. Tell the stories only you can tell in the way only you can tell them, then go looking for markets to sell them. There are so many online and print magazines and anthologies these days, that you’ll surely find somewhere eventually if the story is good enough.
• Rejection is the default. Thousands of stories pass through editor’s slush piles every year. You need to be persistent and understand that rejection happens more than anything else. A few people can sell pretty much anything they write based on their name alone, but for most of us, a 10 to 20% success rate is pretty good. So a story will likely be rejected several times before it finds a home.
• Accept semi-pro payments as you build your name and career. Eventually, it would be nice to only ever get paid pro-rates for all your work, but sometimes it pays to get your name noticed, to get published in places that will showcase your stories to readers and editors even if that doesn’t mean you get paid much. Never give your work away for free except in particularly worthwhile places (like a charity anthology, for example) but a low payment that puts your name among others more famous than you in your field will be a great career-building move and help you sell more stories in the future.
• Have a theme. You don’t need all your stories to follow a theme, and it doesn’t need to be a narrow theme, but have something recognizable. For example, I write science-fiction, high fantasy, crime and other stuff, but the majority of what I write is dark weird fantasy and horror. I’ve built a name for myself in that genre more than any other and I’ve won awards in that field. My new collection of short stories, Crow Shine , contains 19 stories, including 3 originals, that all fit under that dark weird fantasy and horror umbrella. The publisher picked up the collection based on the coherence of voice and style, even though the stories in there range from the wild west to Caribbean pirates to the modern Australian outback and beyond. There’s a thread of consistency in style, subject and voice that means those stories fit together into a collection, and therefore they get sold again, read again, and continue to further build my career.
• The biggest problem with most short stories is that they start too far back. More often than not, any short story by a beginner can be greatly improved by cutting away the first page, or even page and a half. Think about where the story really starts, right in the meat of the action or conflict. You can seed any backstory sparingly throughout as you move forward from there.
• Don’t just go for a twist. A lot of stories have a twist ending, but when you think about it, so do a lot of novels. Think about how many books you’ve read where you thought, “I never saw that coming!” That’s just good storytelling. If you buy into this idea that short stories need a twist at the end, the whole thing will become a vehicle for the twist and it will be trite and unsatisfying. Tell a story, not a joke.
• The best stories are when something else is happening too. Rather than just move forward with the single idea, because you’re constrained by a tight word count, develop the skill to flesh out your story with other stuff, just like real life. For example, you may be fighting a dragon, but perhaps you’re also going through a messy divorce. Or maybe you’re trying to deal with the ghosts that dog your night-time hours, but you’ve also got exams and the last year of college to complete. Monsters and single-parenting; a magical cave and bullying at school; a lake full of mermaids and a home full of anger. You get the idea. Don’t restrict your story to something completely isolated and linear, because life isn’t like that. Your story may be short, but it needs to be as complex as life. Balancing those two things is one of the real skills of good short story writing. And with regard to this, remind yourself about point 2. above.
• The real skill in short story writing is editing. No matter how good you think your story is, it can be shorter, tighter, more compelling. Learn to strip the fat relentlessly, hunt out and kill repetition of words, make every sentence sing. Flense your work to within an inch of its life before sending it out into the world.

Just like anything, short story writing is a skill, an art, and a craft. Read as many as you can to learn other peoples’ methods. Write as many as you can to develop your own ability. And, like all writing, never give up.

Have you every felt drawn to writing short stories? Have you sold a short story? Do you have any experience to share or questions to ask? Please do add a comment below and join the conversation.

Reader Interactions

February 2, 2021 at 12:39 pm

Great article, thanks.

When you talk about “a 10 to 20% success rate”, do you mean that there is only a 10 to 20% chance of a particular story ever get published or that everytime a story is submitted to a magazine there is only a 10 to 20% chance of it being accepted (ie most stories will find a home somewhere eventually? I fear that I already know the answer to this, but am asking in the hope that I’m wrong.

[…] A successful short story career can also work wonders to spread your name and open other doors of opportunity for you. And it can serve as a gateway to your novels. So there's definite benefit to writing short fiction, but only if you love the form and want to add it as one string among many on your writing bow. via […]

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The Christian Author Support Newsletter

29 Places to Submit Short Christian Fiction

Paid and not paid places to share your stories..

You might be surprised that there are places looking for short stories with Christian content or themes. You can submit short stories for the practice, a little extra cash, or to get your name out there as you build your writing platform. Whatever your motive, there are options.!

Here is an extensive list of paid and non-paid opportunities to submit Christian fiction to literary journals, magazines, websites, and apps. But be sure to check all the requirements on the individual sites before you submit, because they might have changed since I wrote the summary.

Here are 29 places that want you to submit to them.

Understanding this List

To get the most out of the list, there are some key terms you need to understand.

Paying vs. Not Paying Gigs

As a Christian, money should not be everything--getting paid should not be the primary motivating factor for your writing. Even if it is your motivating factor, a strategy that consists of only sending your work out to blogs and publications that pay is not going to get you a living wage. However, for your convenience, I have divided the gigs into “Paying Gigs” and “Not Paying Gigs.” Some of the “Not Paying Gigs” might surprise you and pay something—they only fall into this category because their website does not say one way or another. All payment amounts are in US Dollars (USD) unless otherwise noted.

Do not dismiss the gigs that do not pay. As already mentioned, there are lots of reasons to write for other publications. If you prioritize submitting to publications that you can bring value to, you are more likely to get accepted and more likely to get a raving response from their audience.

Simultaneous submission

Submitting the same exact piece to multiple locations. If a publication DOES NOT accept simultaneous submissions, then they want to be the only one to receive your writing. This is often done to save them the effort of reading it and reviewing it, only for you to say, “Sorry, I’m going with someone else.” If a publication DOES accept simultaneous submissions, or if they don’t say one way or the other, then they do not care a bit if you shop around your article (but it is nice to tell them if you go another way).

Many publications ask you to submit a query (or pitch or abstract) instead of the full manuscript. A query summarizes what you are going to talk about from beginning, middle, to end. It might also describe why you are an expert on the topic or why you are writing it. Queries save you and the publisher’s time. Publishers can make snap judgements on if the content and you as an author are a right fit without wading through a long article. You benefit by not spending the time writing an article they don’t even want.

A reprint is an article, story, or poem that has appeared in another publication. Generally, publications prefer to not print reprints—especially online. If you posted an article on your blog, and now you want it to appear on theirs, they may not go for that because search engines could penalize both sites for having duplicated content. Other times, their reasoning is to keep their content fresh and original. Each place is different in how they handle reprints.

Happy submitting!

Paying Gigs

Focus on the Family’s Brio is a 40-page magazine for girls 13-16 which includes inspiration, fashion advice, in-depth celebrity profiles, and Biblical insight. They will accept fiction centering around teen girls that can help  them with their spiritual, relational, and mental health. Brio will pay $0.25 per word.

Learn more : https://media.focusonthefamily.com/brio/pdf/brio-writers-guidelines-2019.pdf

Cadet Quest

The magazine Cadet Quest is published by the Calvinist Cadet Corps for boys ages 9-14. They accept exciting fiction centered around adventure, sports, or humor, but they ask that you align your submission with the issues’ particular themes. Additionally, they’ll take your jokes, puzzles, and projects. Cadet Quest typically offers $0.05 per word and up.

Learn more : www.calvinistcadets.org/wp-content/uploads/Quest-Guidelines.pdf

Focus on the Family’s magazine Clubhouse teaches Christian values to and entertains ages 8 to 12. They accept a variety of fiction stories like contemporary stories with a multicultural setting, humor-with-a-point stories, fantasy, science fiction, or choose-your-own adventures. Clubhouse isn’t looking for preachy stories or anything where adults solve all the problems. This publication pays about $0.15 to $0.25 per word (on the low end if it requires lots of editing). No reprints or simultaneous submissions. All submissions must be mailed in.

Learn more : www.focusonthefamily.com/clubhouse-magazine/about/submission-guidelines

Clubhouse Jr.

Focus on the Family’s magazine Clubhouse Jr. teaches Christian values and entertains ages 3 to 7. They accept fiction written at an age-appropriate level. For fiction, they are looking for charming and witty stories in contemporary multi-cultural settings, choose-your-own adventures, and humor-with-a-point. Clubhouse Jr. also accepts creative but accurate retellings of Bible stories. They pay between $0.15 to $0.25 per word. No reprints or simultaneous submissions. All submissions must be mailed in.

Learn more : www.focusonthefamily.com/clubhouse-jr-magazine/about/submission-guidelines

Creation Illustrated

Creation Illustrated is a quarterly nature magazine with no denominational attachments. Their goal is to show how nature “illustrates” godly character qualities. The magazine accepts submissions of children’s stories that include nature or animals and a moral lesson for kids ages 6–12. They prefer you submit a query rather than a full story. It pays $75.

Learn more : www.creationillustrated.com/writer-and-photo-guidelines

Dappled Things

The Catholic literary journal Dappled Things celebrates the intersections of faith and the arts. Dappled Things is looking for short stories, flash fiction, and dramas. While they don’t require your submission to be overtly religious, they do want submissions that engage with Catholic virtues or philosophy. They occasionally have short story contests that offer prize money.

Learn more : www.dappledthings.org/submissions

Greater Sum

The journal of faith and prose Greater Sum likes submitted work that “challenges assumptions, opens up new ideas, asks questions, and pushes beyond the status quo.” Faith could be a theme, or the author could be a person of faith—the way faith and art interact is up to you to interpret. Unpublished fiction and narrative nonfiction are both accepted. For each accepted submission, they pay an unspecified “small honorarium.”

Learn more : www.agreatersum.com/submit

The Image journal uniquely creates a conversation between contemporary art and literature and Western religious traditions, such as Christianity, Judaism, or Islam. According to their site, it is a leading English literary journal. You can submit fiction or poetry dealing in some way with the topics the journal is interested in. While it appears you pay a small fee for submitting, they pay $25 per page of accepted prose.

Learn more : www.imagejournal.org/journal/submit

Keys for Kids

Keys for Kids desires stories with a Scriptural base and practical application for use in print and audio on their site and app. Submissions should be from the third-person point of view and in a contemporary setting. The story should be targeted at kids ages 6–12, but they don’t want you to shy away from real issues kids face. They will pay $30 flat for accepted stories (around 350 words), retaining all rights.

Learn more : www.keysforkids.org/WritersGuidelines

Published by the Assemblies of God, LIVE is described as “a take-home story paper distributed weekly in adult Sunday School classes.” They publish true stories (or based on a true story), fiction, short humor, and poetry. Stories should be action-packed where characters use Biblical principles to solve problems. Payment is $0.10 per word or $35 to $60 for poetry.

Learn more : www.gospelpublishing.com/store/startcat.cfm?cat=tWRITGUID

Unique among Christian magazines, Mysterion publishes speculative fiction that engages with Christianity. They are interested in science fiction, fantasy, horror, or stories dealing with Christian mysticism, up to 9,000 words. Mysterion doesn’t want preachy stories, and they don’t even need your story to be expressly pro-Christian—they are looking for interesting tales with Christian themes, Christian characters, or Christian supernatural elements. Accepted stories will pay out $0.06 a word for originals, and $0.03 a word for reprints. No simultaneous submissions are accepted.

Learn more : www.mysteriononline.com/p/submission-guidelines.html

Nature Friends

Nature Friends publishes content about nature, the universe, and wild animals to kids ages 6–14. They accept stories about people interacting with nature and animal stories (but not the “talking animal” kind—just creative narration of their activity). Their guidelines are extensive, so read up to assure acceptance. Every year, they have one issue with only reader-submitted pieces, but they will publish freelance stories throughout the year. Nature Friends pays $0.05 per word for first rights and $0.03 per word for reprint rights.

Learn more : www.naturefriendmagazine.com/contributors/writers-guide-for-freelance-writers

Ruminate is an award-wining contemplative literary arts magazine that encourages and inspires readers in their spiritual and creative lives. They have various contests that come and go, and they accept submissions for flash fiction and short stories that “embraces curiosity and discovery rather than resolution.” Fiction works should not be previously published. Their guidelines state an interest in work from BIPOC, LGBTQIA+, and other historically marginalized groups. Ruminate pays $20 per 400 words along with a free contributor’s copy. There are submission fees.

Learn more : www.ruminatemagazine.com/pages/submit

St. Anthony Messenger

St. Anthony Messenger , a Roman Catholic magazine, is published by Franciscan monks in Ohio. You can send a 2,000- to 2,500-word story, keeping in mind that their readership typically consists of families and women between 40-70 years old. They will pay $0.20 per word. Reprints of simultaneous submissions are not accepted.

Learn more : www.franciscanmedia.org/writers-guide

The War Cry

Salvation Army publishes The War Cry which “looks to bring people to Christ, help believers grow in faith and character, and promotes redemptive cultural practices” from their ministry perspective. They accept only limited submissions of fiction and eve single strip comics but don’t give any details. They pay $0.35 per word for first time articles and $0.15 per word for reprints.

Learn more : www.thewarcry.org/submission-guidelines

Unlocked  is a quarterly devotional for teens produced by Keys for Kids, which features daily Gospel-centered fiction and poetry. They ask that the piece centers around a particular Bible verse and discussion questions are included. Their preference is that stories are allegorical, mainly sci-fi and fantasy. The devotions are put online and on their app, and they are also recorded as audio stories. Fiction should be 200–350 words. Any author 13 years old and up can submit, earning $30 for each accepted piece. Simultaneous or previously published submissions are not accepted.

Learn more : www.unlocked.org/contribute

Not Paying Gigs

Agape review.

This new literary journal accepts previously unpublished submissions of fiction (1000–3500 words), flash fiction (less than 950 words), and poetry. Everything submitted must be “Christian-themed”, which they let the submitted interpret. Simultaneous submissions are accepted. This site will include links in your bio but does not pay (they call themselves a “zero-profit” organization).

Learn more : www.agapereview.com/submissions

Calla Press

Calla Press publishes prose, poetry, flash fiction, and creative non-fiction. Work submitted does not need to be explicitly Christian but should be appropriate for a Christian audience. They publish once a year and offer no payment.

Learn more : www.callapress.com/callapress-com-whatwepublish

Christian Writers

Christian Writers is an internet community formed around Christian publishing, writing, and reading, but they welcome filmmakers, artists, and other creative professionals into their community as well. They accept online submissions of short stories, devotionals, or informational articles. Most of these have Christian themes and elements, but there are no specific guidelines on what to submit.

Learn more : www.christianwriters.com/info-support/submissions-formatting-r2

The literary magazine Crux wants to share people’s stories. The magazine is not exclusively Christian, but it includes a distinct Christian influence. Each issue has a specific theme you must incorporate in your writing. During certain times, they accept submissions for short stories as well as personal essays and poetry. Unfortunately, Crux does not offer compensation.

Learn more : www.cruxmagazine.org/submissions

Heart of Flesh

The online and print Heart of Flesh literary magazine seeks submissions of short stories, poetry, and flash fiction with Christian themes. Works do not need to be explicitly Christian nor overly clean but should reflect common Christian virtues and a light at the end of the tunnel. Short stories should be 4,000 words max. Simultaneous submissions are welcome. They do not offer payment or even a print contributor copy (only a PDF copy).

Learn more : www.heartoffleshlit.com/submission-guidelines

Labyrinthine Passages

The online Christian triannual literary journal Labyrinthine Passages wants “to explore the nature of humankind under God.” They accept stories with raw emotions and poetry that inspires and will accept reprints if you let them know they are such. Labyrinthine Passages is offered free online and does not pay contributors.

Learn more : www.labyrinthinepassages.weebly.com/submissions.html

Letters Journal

The annually published Letters Journal accepts poetry, fiction, and nonfiction (including memoirs and essays) that creatively expresses religion, spirituality, and belief that connects faith to contemporary art. The journal is published by students in the Yale Institute for Sacred Music and Yale Divinity School. No payment is offered. No previously published material is accepted.

Learn more : www.lettersjournal.com/submit

The annual print journal Relief publishes fiction, creative nonfiction, poetry, and graphic narratives. This journal seeks to embrace the “troublesome and complex dimensions of our lives” and faith in imaginative ways. Fiction stories should not exceed 8,000 words, and you can submit up to three stories at a time. To submit to the print version, you must pay a small fee to cover operating expenses and your contributor’s copy of the issue.

Learn more : www.reliefjournal.com/print-submit

Rock & Sling

The literary journal Rock & Sling published out of Whitworth University believes that literature and language can bear witness to deep truths. They desire “work which embraces, wrestles with, argues with, celebrates and brushes up against our ideas of faith,” but does not necessarily need to contain direct references to Christianity. Rock & Sling is particularly interested in submissions from historically marginalized communities. They publish prose and poetry during certain seasons and comics year-round.

Learn more : www.rockandsling.submittable.com/submit

Solemn Press

Solemn Press runs a literary magazine that accepts theologically driven poetry, short stories, and homilies. Short stories should not exceed 40 pages long (practically novella length!). They describe the desired style as “Southern Gothic, experimental, postmodern, and country noir or ‘grit lit.’” Simultaneous submissions and previously published work (with proper attribution) are accepted. They are only open at certain times of the year.

Learn more : www.solumpress.com/submissions

The Other Journal

A product of the Seattle School of Theology & Psychology, The Other Journal discusses the intersection of theology and culture through creative writing and visual or performance art. They are interested in pieces that show how faith interacts with contemporary life, art, politics, sexuality, technology, economics, and social justice. Submissions should align with the current theme, and they prefer submissions that offer alternative views to mainstream narratives.

Learn more : www.theotherjournal.com/submissions

The Scriblerus

The Scriblerus (or The Scrib) is a literary journal produced by Greenville University, which authentically explores humanity and spirituality. They want art that has Christian values and is thought-provoking, but you don’t need to have neat Sunday School answers. They don’t publish graphic sexual content, but the topic of sex is not off-limits; swearing, if used, should be artistically essential. The Scrib accepts fiction, cartoon/graphic narratives, poetry, films, and spoken word. Fiction should be no more than 1,500 words.

Learn more : www.thescriblerus.com/submit

The Windhover

Produced by the University of Mary Hardin-Baylor, this literary journal invites submissions for poetry, short fiction, and creative nonfiction “that considers Christian perspectives and engages spiritual themes.” Prose should not exceed 4,000 words, and they do not accept previously published work. Also, each Spring, the university invites their published authors and readers onto their Texas campus to participate in a writers’ conference that covers the intersection of faith and art.

Learn more : https://go.umhb.edu/humanities-sciences/english/windhover

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Home > money & life

How to Tell Stories that Sell

It’s a scientific fact: human beings LOVE stories.

On a physiological level, our brains are wired to perk up, listen more intently, and remember details more accurately when they’re presented in the form of a story.

If you’ve ever watched a TED Talk, presidential speech, or documentary film that made you burst into tears, then you’re already familiar with the power of stories.

Once you start weaving stories into copy and content, your communication will go from “bland” to “unforgettable.” The people in your audience will become even more obsessed with you… and even more excited to buy from you!

But nobody is “born” as a “naturally amazing storyteller.” Storytelling is a skill that you have to practice and hone, just like riding a bicycle, or baking the perfect pan of melt-in-your-mouth chocolate brownies.

If you’re ready to learn some new storytelling techniques so that you can make your course sign-up pages and marketing totally binge-readable and obsess-able – yay! – follow these 5 storytelling guidelines.

Guideline #1 STOP TRYING TO BE “PERFECT.”

Perfection is boring. Perfection also triggers suspicion, because when you see someone who’s just a little too robotically perfect, like one of the Stepford Wives, you can’t help but wonder, “OK but seriously, what’s the real story here?”

As a business owner, you want to impress people and show how skilled and talented you are. But there’s a difference between “showing people what a talented, hire-able human being you are” and “showing a false image of yourself that’s a little ‘too’ polished.”

If you want people to fall in love with you, share a story about a time when you made a painful mistake, succumbed to peer pressure, or learned a big lesson the hard way. Those types of stories are so much more interesting than stories about “being perfect” and “having the most wonderful life ever with no problems at all.”

No matter what your writing goals are, CreativeLive’s Writing Week will give you the energy, instruction, and focus to achieve them. Learn more .

 Guideline #2 FOCUS ON HOW YOU WANT PEOPLE TO FEEL.

The point of any story is to make your audience FEEL something.

When you’re writing stories for your audience, take a moment to ask yourself: “What do I want them to feel?”

Are you telling stories—stories about yourself, stories about your work, stories about your clients and customers—that bring that particular emotion into your reader’s heart?

Think about how you want your reader/viewer/listener to FEEL, and share stories that help to create that feeling.

Guideline #3 CONSIDER WHO YOU’RE TALKING TO.

Not every story is “right” for every audience. It’s important to consider who you’re talking to, and what your intention is with that person. As they say in the entertainment biz: “Know your audience.”

Consider who you’re talking to—their current employment status, financial reality, their hopes, dreams, goals and fears.

Share stories that will be uplifting and valuable for them to hear—NOT stories that make you seem clueless, braggy, or just “out of touch” with their needs.

Guideline #4 SPRINKLE IN A FEW SENSORY DETAILS.

I tell all of my clients and students to read fiction, especially romance/erotica. The racier, sexier, and more ridiculously over-the-top… the better! (LOL. I know. I’m such a mean teacher!)

Why? Because fiction writers understand that it’s so important to include… sensory details.

When you write stories for your business audience, think about how things look, feel, smell, sound, and taste. You don’t have to turn every single sentence into a sensory smorgasbord, but try to sprinkle at least a couple of sensory details throughout your story. It makes your writing come alive.

Guideline #5 DON’T START AT THE VERY BEGINNING.

Has a friend ever said to you, “OMG! The CRAZIEST thing happened today!”

Then, they ramble on and on for 15 minutes straight. Your eyes start to glaze over with boredom until she FINALLY gets to the good part.

What a great story! Except… your friend could have just jumped right into THE GOOD PART and skipped all of the preliminary build-up.

The same thing is true when you’re writing stories for your business audience. Often, you DON’T need to start the story at the very beginning. You can skip the boring backstory and jump right into the action.

Adhere to these guidelines, your words will become much more intriguing, inspiring, and memorable, and you’ll really leave an imprint in people’s minds. Happy storytelling !

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Best Short Fiction Literary Magazines in 2024

Showing 40 magazines that match your search.

Ginosko Literary Journal

Online magazine for Short Fiction ,

Ginosko: A Greek word meaning the recognition of truth from experience.

Submission guidelines →

🌍 Territory: United States

💰 Submission fee: $0

⏱️ Frequency: 2 times a year

🧑‍💻 Online submissions: Yes

The Racket Journal

The Racket Journal seeks to showcase all forms of fiction, non-fiction and poetry. We also like art, a lot. Each issue features 5-6 pieces of writing and 3-5 pieces of art. Maybe one of your pieces could be in the next issue. We'd really like that.

⏱️ Frequency: 52 times a year

Print & Online magazine for Short Fiction ,

On Spec adheres to a strong mandate that has served us well over the years. We discover and showcase quality works by predominantly Canadian writers and artists, in the genre we call “Fantastic” literature. We foster the growth of emerging writers in this genre, by offering support and direction through constructive criticism, education, mentoring, and manuscript development.

🌍 Territory: CA

⏱️ Frequency: 4 times a year

Looking for an editor to polish your manuscript?

The best professionals are already on Reedsy, come meet them. Create your free account to request free quotes today.

Learn more about the Reedsy Marketplace .

Invisible City

Invisible City is an online publication of the MFA in Writing Program at the University of San Francisco that publishes in the fall and spring. We seek work that encourages us to see the world from new perspectives and different angles, ones that we may not have previously considered or imagined.

Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine

Featuring the world’s most celebrated crime writers alongside brilliant new voices. Cutting-edge content includes suspense thrillers, whodunits, and noir, reviews, and an editor’s blog. Join us … if you dare!

🌍 Territory: USA

⏱️ Frequency: 6 times a year

North American Review

Print magazine for Short Fiction ,

We like stories that start quickly and have a strong narrative arc. Poems that are passionate about subject, language, and image are welcome, whether they are traditional or experimental, whether in formal or free verse (closed or open form). We publish all forms of creative nonfiction, from personal narrative to lyric essay to immersive journalism; we appreciate when an essay moves beyond the personal to tell us something new about the world.

💰 Submission fee: $3

Southern Humanities Review

Southern Humanities Review publishes fiction, poetry, and creative nonfiction. $1,000 and publication in SHR will be awarded annually to one poem of witness by an American poet. Full guidelines on our website.

The Incandescent Review

The Incandescent Review is an entirely non-profit, teen-run literary magazine, and our team hails from across the globe: from San Jose to Shanghai, from Atlanta to Athens. Our purpose is to create a platform for teens and young adults to express their opinions and emotional response to world issues in the form of poetry, prose, visual art, and more.

🌍 Territory: International

Seaside Gothic

Seaside Gothic is a quarterly literary magazine from the edge of the sea where the frontier of civilisation meets the wild of the water.

🌍 Territory: United Kingdom

Pigeon Review

A new literary and art magazine dedicated to showcasing emerging artists and writers.

⏱️ Frequency: 12 times a year

The Shallot: Journal of Mental Health, Art, and Literature

The Layered Onion is looking for submissions for their publication, The Shallot: Journal of Mental Health, Art, and Literature. The Shallot’s goal is to amplify the voices of artists with lived mental and emotional health experience and accepts poetry and short stories/fiction under 1,001 words. The Shallot is part of The Layered Onion, a social benefit organization dedicated to uplifting the voices of artists with mental and emotional health struggles.

Uncanny Magazine

Uncanny Magazine is an online Science Fiction and Fantasy magazine featuring passionate SF/F fiction and poetry, gorgeous prose, provocative nonfiction, and a deep investment in the diverse SF/F culture. Each issue contains intricate, experimental stories and poems with verve and imagination that elicit strong emotions and challenge beliefs, from writers of every conceivable background.

Asimov's Science Fiction

From its earliest days in 1977 under the editorial direction of Isaac Asimov, Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine has maintained the tradition of publishing the best stories, unsurpassed in modern science fiction, from award-winning authors and first-time writers alike.

The Atlantic

The Atlantic is always interested in great nonfiction, fiction, and poetry. A general familiarity with what we have published in the past is the best guide to what we're looking for. All manuscripts should be submitted as a Word document or PDF. Succinct pitches may be submitted in the body of an email.

⏱️ Frequency: 10 times a year

Adelaide Literary Magazine

Founded by Stevan V. Nikolic and Adelaide Franco Nikolic in 2015, the magazine’s aim is to publish quality poetry, fiction, nonfiction, artwork, and photography, as well as interviews, articles, and book reviews, written in English and Portuguese.

Run a literary magazine? Submit it to our directory!

The halls of literary success are paved with authors who got their start appearing in literary magazines — such as Zora Neale Hurston, Truman Capote, William Faulkner, Edith Wharton, Ursula Le Guin, J.D. Salinger, George Saunders, Alice Munro, Flannery O’Connor, and many more. 

For centuries, literary magazines have highlighted works that would otherwise struggle to reach readers. Poetry, short stories, essays are all forms of writing that own very tiny shares in the publishing landscape — except in the world of literary magazines, where they reign supreme.

If you’re an aspiring author, submitting to literary magazines is a great way to get your foot into the door of the publishing industry, as it allows you to build up your credentials and reach readers. That being said, having your work appear in a literary magazine isn’t as easy as hitting “submit.” While they can act as a stepping stone for writers who wish to go on to have a career in publishing, you shouldn’t view literary magazines as simply a means to an end — if only because doing so will very likely reduce your chances of ever actually being featured in one of them.

And on that note, let’s get started with our first tip for getting your work featured in some of the best literary magazines out there.

Tips for submitting to literary magazines 

Ensure you’re submitting to the right places.

When you think of literary magazines, your mind might automatically go to The New Yorker . Or it might go to independent webzines that specialize in very niche genres. Maybe you think of university-funded quarterlies like The New England Review . All this is to say that the range of lit mags out there is broad and the kinds of things they publish also ranges — from short lit fic to flash space operas, and everything in between. 

So before you decide to submit your short stories or poetry to a magazine, make sure you do your due diligence and research what kinds of things they publish, and where your work is really a match.

Don’t submit to tons of publications all at one

“Cast a wide net” shouldn’t be your mantra when it comes to submitting to lit mags. As mentioned, all magazines have their own styles. So spending your time ensuring your submissions are targeted at the right places is much more valuable than sending your writing to as many different publications as possible. Editors can usually scout fairly quickly the pieces that have been submitted en masse, without any regard for their specific publication.

Instead, make a list of the magazines you want to submit to and group them into tiers. Tier One can be your top five magazines, Tier Two your next five favorite, and so on. This is not only a good way to make sure you’re giving each submission care and attention, it’s also a good way to make sure you don’t get the same piece of writing accepted by two different magazines, forcing you to pull your submission from one of them.

When it comes to making your list, don’t only consider what magazines have prestige, huge audiences, or hefty cash payouts. The best magazines to submit to are the ones that you actually enjoy reading. Because chances are those are the magazines that are going to be most interested in the kind of things you’re writing.

Keep your cover letter short and to-the-point

Editors are not won over by cover letters. If you’ve written a great story and have publishing credentials to boot, sure, your cover letter might help win them over. But if your submission isn’t strong, your cover letter is going to mean nil. So let your cover letter mention the important bits, make sure it provides any specific information that’s requested in the submission guidelines, and let your entry do the heavy lifting. 

Typically, a cover letter will mention a couple of the previous places you’ve been published as well as any other relevant experience you might have. You can also add a personal touch by mentioning a previous story or issue you particularly enjoyed.

What your letter shouldn’t mention is every place you’ve been published (up to 5 will suffice). It shouldn’t summarize your entry, your life story, or your “writing journey,” and any previous experience you mention should be related in some way to writing, publishing, or your entry.

Thoroughly edit your story — and follow submission guidelines!

An editor is probably not going to banish an otherwise very strong entry to the slush pile because of a misplaced typo. That being said, they have lots of reading to do, and while most editors won’t consciously read an entry looking for reasons not to like it, at the end of the day they can only accept so many pieces. So if you make their jobs easier by giving them a reason to pass on your piece, they’re going to take it. If it’s not adequately proofread, there’s only so long someone can continue reading even the strongest writing before the spelling errors convince them to stop.

Another quick way to convince an editor to pass on your entry is to not follow the submission guidelines. If the guidelines ask you to include specific information or to format your story in a certain way, follow those instructions to a tee. If the guide doesn’t tell you how to format your story, go classic: Arial or Times New Roman 12-point font, double-spaced. To ensure your submissions look professional, you can always copy and paste them into our free formatting tool, the Reedsy Book Editor !

Editors do want to like your submission

The publishing world is competitive, so it’s natural for authors to stress about all the little details of submitting to a literary magazine — whether to add page numbers to their document, who to address in their cover letter, whether they’ll stand a chance as a brand new author, etc. And while we did just mention that editors generally won’t put up a fight if you give them a reason to pass on your entry, they also won’t toss aside a submission they love just because the full package isn’t 100% perfect.

Remember, editors are looking for quality art they feel is going to resonate with their readers. If you can provide them with that, they’re going to be on your side.

Don’t just do it for the money or prestige

If you’re submitting to lit mags with the hopes of raking in the cash, you are more than likely going to be disappointed. Sure, there are some big-time magazines out there that offer larger paycheques to their writers and widespread readership, but many of them don’t accept unsolicited submissions — or come with extremely steep competition.

Most literary magazines are run on very tiny budgets that can’t afford to pay the writers they feature. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t submit to them. The exposure and credibility an emerging writer can gain from having their work featured across a number of smaller, indie publications are still very valuable and shouldn’t be overlooked.

Have fun — and be proud of what you publish!

Yes, having your work appear in literary magazines can help build up your publishing resume. But if you’re not writing and publishing work you feel really proud of, what’s the point? Readers don’t need more stories that make it into magazines because they follow the right trends or say the right things, we want literature that the author clearly loved writing. 

So, as we mentioned earlier, don’t just submit a piece because you think it’s going to get you somewhere. Submit something because you think it’s strong, unique, and worthwhile. Write and submit work you can proudly stand by! 

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Domestication

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In an interview published in Salon, Rosemary Mosco, author of A Pocket Guide to Pigeon Watching: Getting to Know the World’s Most Misunderstood Bird (Workman Publishing, 2021), reflects on the historical connections between pigeons and people, and recounts a process of domestication, obsolescence, and abandonment. “The city pigeons around us…were domesticated by humans a really long time ago,” says Mosco. “They were really bred to be good at living near us. And then, we forgot, and now they keep hanging around us. And we’re like, ‘why are they here?’” Write a short story that involves an encounter or situation with a domesticated animal, whether a pet, livestock, or one wandering the streets. Think about the wild ancestors of this animal, and how they’ve become entwined with humans and civilization. How might you connect philosophical ideas around domestication with other larger themes of your story?

“We tend to treat odor in general as a sort of taboo,” writes Scott Sayare in a New York Times Magazine article about a woman who discovered she could smell Parkinson’s disease, in some cases over a dozen years before medical diagnosis. “Modern doctors are trained to diagnose by inspection, palpation, percussion and auscultation; ‘inhalation’ is not on the list, and social norms would discourage it if it were.” This week, focus your attention on your sense of smell as you go about your days, perhaps even ignoring social norms as you inhale all the odors around you. Then, write a poem that focuses solely, or primarily, on smell—perhaps juxtaposing scents that are in your everyday life now and those from a more distant past.

A Question of Belonging: Crónicas (Archipelago Books, 2024) by the Argentine writer Hebe Uhart, who died in 2018, translated from the Spanish by Anna Vilner, contains over two dozen crónicas—a form of narrative journalism popularized in Latin America that is characterized by short, informal musings about everyday topics and observations. In her introduction to the book, Mariana Enríquez notes Uhart’s lack of pretension in her chosen subjects, from what she observed around her to the locals with whom she conversed. “Her fascination with language is not limited to the spoken: She roams around cities and towns taking note of shop names, ads, and graffiti.…” Jot down intriguing or amusing fragments of language you see and hear as you go about your day, perhaps during your commute or while watching your favorite TV show. Write a series of short musings based on your observations, noting any humor or insights gleaned from contemporary language and what it reveals about our current times.

Head This Way

Ayşegül Savaş’s third novel, The Anthropologists , forthcoming in July from Bloomsbury, is narrated by Asya, one half of a young couple setting out to build a new life together in a foreign city. While they solidify friendships, search for an apartment, and accommodate visiting relatives, Asya begins a documentary project. Each of the novel’s vignette titles reference anthropological concepts: Notions of Loyalty, Child-Rearing, Native Tongue, Courtship, Gift Exchange, Division of Labor, Principles of Kinship, and Forms of Enchantment. As Asya reflects on anthropological distance and lenses, these headings raise questions about the conventions, expectations, and routines that constitute a life. What makes a life legible—and to whom? Write a short story with subheadings providing insight or an alternative perspective on scenes. How might they produce additional layers of complexity and ambiguity?

Coming Down Hard

“The sun had just gone out / and I was walking three miles to get home. / I wanted to die. / I couldn’t think of words and I had no future / and I was coming down hard on everything.” In Linda Gregg’s poem “New York Address,” which appears in her retrospective collection, All of It Singing: New and Selected Poems (Graywolf Press, 2008), the speaker recounts bleak existential angst. Despite the pain and darkness, there are glimmers of light. In the second half of the poem, questions are stubbornly answered with snappy, tidy pacing: “Yes I hate dark. No I love light. Yes I won’t speak. / No I will write.” Write a poem that goes all in on angst, channeling a time that felt overwhelmingly uncertain and full of trepidation. How can you experiment with sound and diction to gently steer the dramatic toward the life-affirming?

Attentiveness

Nearly fifty years ago, the writer George Perec spent three days sitting behind a café window in Place Saint-Sulpice in Paris recording everything he saw. In his short book, An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Paris , his observations of mundane occurrences and objects often considered unnoteworthy—passersby, cars, buses, pigeons, signs, and slogans—are documented. This week situate yourself in one spot, perhaps in your home or workplace, or in a public space like a park, busy crossroad, commercial area, library, or café. Then, jot down the objects and behavior you see, and the snippets of conversation you hear. Write a lyric essay composed of these notes, trying to avoid interpretations or analysis. Taken together, how do your observations create a portrayal of a specific time or place? Pay particular attention to how one observation might lead to another, and to potential rhythms and repetitions.

Power Couple

The 2023 thriller film Fair Play , written and directed by Chloe Domont, follows the lives of a young, newly engaged couple, Luke and Emily, who are colleagues working as analysts in the cutthroat world of high finance in New York. The film focuses on the progression of their relationship, which has been kept hidden from their hedge fund office, and the bitter disintegration of their happiness after a promotion that was initially rumored to go to Luke is unexpectedly bestowed upon Emily, which situates him as a subordinate to his wife within a misogynistic workplace. Write a short story that revolves around an occurrence that catalyzes a shift in the power dynamic between two main characters who have a close relationship. What are the initial responses, and does the transformation happen suddenly or gradually? Are there gender, generational, or other cultural issues that play a role?

Organic Insinuations

“All too often, on a ‘poetry scene,’ people prioritise ‘subject matter,’” says John Burnside in a 2023 interview about his writing process by Jesse Nathan published on McSweeney’s Internet Tendency. “I am sure that, as I am working, environmental concerns insinuate their way into the content of a poem organically, as other concerns will—but I would never start from there.” Inspired by the late Scottish poet, who died at the age of sixty-nine on May 29, write a poem that springs not from a predetermined topic or subject matter, but instead allows you to “trust in the sounds, the rhythms that come out of the day-to-day, the sheer immediacy and truth of the quotidian…and the images that lead, sometimes via fairly roundabout paths, to metaphor.” Later, as you reread and revise, what do you discover is the subject of your poem? What might have organically insinuated itself into your poem?

The maintenance or restoration of native plant and animal species has long been at the heart of many ecological and conservation projects, and has historically been a focus of land and environmental stewardship principles held by native and first peoples all over the world. But what if a beloved plant or animal is considered invasive, like the palm trees of Los Angeles or the cattle of Texas? What are the effects or consequences of centuries of existence with this invasive species in a particular locale? This week reflect on the notion of belonging—what are various places and times when you have felt a strong sense of belonging, and situations when you did not feel you belonged? Consider your own perspectives and responses when you encounter someone or something else that seems invasive or does not belong.

In Stephen King’s 1983 novel, Pet Sematary , a doctor moves into a remote house in Maine with his wife, two young children, and their pet cat, and learns from a neighbor about an ancient burial ground nearby cursed by a malevolent spirit which gave it power to reanimate those buried there. This is put to the test first by the family cat, and then by members of the family who die throughout the course of King’s horror story. While each formerly dead being is returned to the land of the living, they don’t come back quite the same. Write a story in which a creature or person returns from the dead, either in actuality or under circumstances in which their reappearance feels as if they are “back from the dead.” What familiar traits remain the same and what is disconcertingly different? Is their return ultimately for the better or the worse?

“I told a friend about a spill at the grocery store, which—the words ‘conveyor belt’ vanishing midsentence—took place on a ‘supermarket treadmill,’” writes Madeleine Schwartz in a recent essay published by New York Times Magazine about her experience of negotiating with and toggling between the French and English languages after moving from New York to Paris. In the piece, Schwartz notes that as she became more comfortable with living and thinking in French, she noticed a blurring of her linguistic capabilities, including a muddling of her articulative abilities in English. Think about a time or situation when words have failed you, or you’ve drawn a blank as to the mot juste. Write a poem that traces or enacts a loss of language, perhaps using invented words, phrases, and spellings or experimenting with font sizes, line breaks, and spacing.

Edible Memories

Many foods, flavors, and dishes hold a wellspring of emotional associations because they remind us of loved ones, habits and traditions, specific locales, and a different time of our lives when we were different people. Write a series of flash nonfiction pieces this week with each segment focusing on an edible item that evokes particularly resonant memories for you. You might begin by jotting down lists of foods you ate regularly growing up—breakfasts, school lunches, vending machine go-tos, favorite fast-food joints, diners, late night spots, home-cooked specialties—as well as a few momentous meals. Who are the people you associate with each one? Aside from taste and smell, consider the surrounding environment, atmospheric sounds, time of year, and who you were at that point in your life.

Wheels and Nails

While the American proverb “the squeaky wheel gets the grease” may be one you’ve heard time and again, often in reference to the idea that whoever raises or vocalizes a criticism the loudest will be appeased, there is a Japanese saying that translates to “the nail that sticks out gets hammered down,” which points to the positives of conformity in order to maintain a productive and humble society. It can also refer to putting someone who has become too successful back down in their place. Write a story in which your main character diverges from a group of people, and sticks their neck out, so to speak. Perhaps they vocalize a contrary perspective, protest something they feel is unjust, or simply present themselves in an unconventional manner. What are the consequences? Does your story lean toward one proverbial lesson or the other, or does the conclusion demonstrate more ambiguity?

Night at the Museum

If you could spend a night at any museum, which would you choose, and why? The French publisher Editions Stock has a series of books that begins with this premise—each author selects a museum, arrangements are made for an overnight stay, and a book is written about the experience. In Jakuta Alikavazovic’s Like a Sky Inside , translated from the French by Daniel Levin Becker, she spends a night at the Louvre in Paris, where childhood memories of visits with her father are vividly recalled. “From March 7 to 8, 2020, I spent the night in the Louvre, alone. Alone and at the same time anything but,” writes Alikavazovic. Write a poem that imagines a night at a museum of your choosing, anywhere in the world. What memories will you excavate from this imagined, solitary experience?

Chosen Family

Although the origin of the term is unknown and can be defined in many ways, a chosen family is made up of a group of people who choose to embrace, nurture, and support each other despite conventional understandings of biological or marital relationships. Oftentimes a chosen family is formed to take the place of a biological family, however, in some cases, these relationships are formed to expand a family. Write a personal essay about a relationship you have with a chosen family member. How did you first meet? Was there a particular incident that catalyzed what would become an inextricable bond? Has your commitment to each other been tested in ways big or small? Reflect on past memories and experiences you have had with this special person and how your relationship has evolved over the years.

Kingdom of the Planet

In the 1968 science fiction film Planet of the Apes , which is based on French author Pierre Boulle’s 1963 novel and has spawned several sequels and a recent reboot, a crew of astronauts crash-lands on a planet ruled by apes who have developed an advanced and hierarchical civilization, complete with systems of governance, labor, scientific research, and a military force. In this far-off place, humans have been reduced to mute primitive beings who are subjugated and kept captive as workers for the primates. Write a speculative story that takes place in another universe with a premise revolving around a role reversal. What are the rules and governing structures of the society that you invent? You might decide to approach your narrative with a tone of horror, satire, or comedy to emphasize your perspective on stereotypical assumptions and social expectations.

Another Country

“I love these raw moist dawns with / a thousand birds you hear but can’t / quite see in the mist. / My old alien body is a foreigner / struggling to get into another country. / The loon call makes me shiver. / Back at the cabin I see a book / and am not quite sure what that is.” In these eight lines that comprise Jim Harrison’s poem “Another Country,” which appears in his final collection, Dead Man’s Float (Copper Canyon Press, 2016), the late poet moves between observations about a natural outdoor setting and the speaker’s own bodily presence, arriving in the final two lines at a sentiment that expresses a feeling of defamiliarization at the seemingly mundane sight of a book. This week write a poem that explores the concept of being so absorbed in one environment or circumstance that to behold a different scene is like traveling to a strange and unknown realm.

Self-Healing

A recent study in Scientific Reports journal revealed that, for possibly the first time, a nonhuman wild animal was seen using plant medicine to heal an active wound. In a rainforest in Indonesia, a Sumatran orangutan was observed ripping off leaves from a climbing vine plant, chewing them, and applying the plant sap to treat a wound on his face, which then healed after a few days. Write a personal essay on the theme of self-healing. Think about experiences when you’ve witnessed another person perform this task, or particularly resonant memories that pertain to your own past behavior. What are the primary emotions present throughout this process? What instances of self-treatment or self-medication in film, art, or literature created an impression on you?

Campus Story

Take inspiration from the concept of a campus novel—which takes place in and around the campus of a university and often involves the intertwined dynamics of students, professors, and conventions about learning and power—and write a story that engages with a school setting, whether prominently situated in the context of the plot or used for a particular scene. Some recent additions to the campus novel canon include Elif Batuman’s The Idiot (Penguin Press, 2017), Xochitl Gonzalez’s Anita de Monte Laughs Last (Flatiron Books, 2024), Kiley Reid’s Come and Get It (G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 2024), and Brandon Taylor’s Real Life (Riverhead Books, 2020). Will you include a character who is a student, teacher, administrative staff member, custodial worker or caretaker, or possibly an alumni revisiting the past? Consider the multitude of ways the incorporation of an educational environment might permeate the atmosphere of the narrative.

The Last Friend

“The day the last friend / dies / we sit alone. / A visitor / from outer space / tries hard / to summon us. / Someone says / EAT DEATH. / I fish around for answers / but the questions / still won’t come,” writes Jerome Rothenberg, who passed away in April, in his poem “The Last Friend.” Included in his collection of one hundred poems, A Book of Witness: Spells & Gris-Gris (New Directions, 2022), the poem presents a list of statements and observations, many of which refer to death or dying in some personal way, though the connections are enigmatic and the logical progression is oblique. Try your hand at writing a poem that mentions its subject directly, but which also deliberately obfuscates or remains ambiguous in its intentions. How might using the “I” as a witness include the reader into your point of view?

Mind Your Manners

The New York City culture and news website Gothamist recently asked New Yorkers about their thoughts on sidewalk etiquette in the crowded, bustling streets of their beloved city. What are the rules, who has the right-of-way, and who should yield? Respondents focused on always walking to the right of the sidewalk and to “move quickly and never stop.” One thoughtful respondent considered the cultural differences of sidewalks used for recreational strolls versus commuting. But the overall consensus was that among nine-to-fivers, tourists, parents with kids, dogwalkers, bicyclists, and groups, seniors deserve the right-of-way. Write an essay about the unwritten rules or etiquette you have observed in your daily surroundings. How have these common practices adapted to fit the needs of different people? Do they evolve over time as social norms change? Consider some of your own experiences with how public etiquette has helped or hindered harmonious community life.

The term sub rosa means “under the rose” in Latin and refers to something said or done in private. The rose has been associated with secrecy since ancient times, a decorative symbol often carved and painted in places like meeting rooms, banquet halls, and confessionals as reminders of confidentiality. This week write a short story that revolves around a conversation or discussion that occurs sub rosa in an enclosed space. Does a certain detail get leaked out or overheard? How might the secretive nature place a burden on your characters? Consider the ways in which the atmosphere and tone of your story feel distinctive in the time and space of your sub-rosa conversation versus the scenes that take place before or after the talk.

Wisdom in Translation

In the anthology Another Room to Live In: 15 Contemporary Arab Poets (Litmus Press, 2024) edited by Omar Berrada and Sarah Riggs, multinational and multilingual poet-translators challenge foundational narratives and rework mythologies through poetic expression. Yasmine Seale’s poem “Conventional Wisdom (Arabic Saying Translated Twenty Ways)” is composed of translations of an ancient aphorism expressing the inextricable place of poetry within Arab cultural heritage. Each line presents a variation on the truism: “Poetry is the record of the Arabs / The art of poetry is Arabs, collected / Good poetry is a list of Arabs / To speak in verse is to remain in Arab memory / To surpass another poet is the Arab odyssey.” Write a poem inspired by this idea of translating a proverb or maxim—either from another language or from English into English. How might you creatively interpolate different “translations” of the saying by incorporating connotations and riffing on free associations and personal experiences?

In Response

In a recent interview with Aria Aber for the Yale Review , when asked his thoughts on the responsibility of the poet, Jackson Prize–winning poet Fady Joudah says, “I often think that the responsibility of the poet is to strive to become the memory that people may possess in the future about what it means to be human: an ever-changing constant. In poetry, the range of metaphors and topics is limited, predictable, but the styles are innumerable. Think how we read poetry from centuries ago and are no longer bothered by its outdated diction. All that remains of old poetry is the music of what it means to be human.” Write a creative nonfiction piece that presents your personal theory of the responsibility of a writer or an artist. To construct an expansive approach, you might use observations about how different creative disciplines overlap in their goals, or consider what has remained resonant as the arts make their mark throughout various eras.

Earth to You

In honor of Earth Week, write a scene that revolves around a character who experiences an unexpected moment in a natural environment that produces a sensation of wonder, perhaps an unusual encounter with wild flora or fauna. You might contrast the elements of this scene with others in your story in which the character is interacting solely with humans or only attuned to the sounds, rhythms, and sights of city life and densely packed civilization. Is the occurrence mind-bogglingly quick and then reflected upon in hindsight, or does time slow down in the scene? How do you manage or manipulate the pacing and rhythm of your prose to draw attention to the emotional and psychological response of the character?

About Our Writing Prompts

What is a writing prompt and how do you use one? Whether you find yourself in front of a blank page or stuck in a work-in-progress, writing prompts can offer a spark that ignites your creative thinking and can lead to new writing. Prompts offer guidance, fresh ideas, and direction for writers of all levels of experience. First, choose a prompt for the genre in which you’d like to write, then carefully read it and consider what it is asking you to think about. It could be a specific setting, a writing technique, or an element of an imagined character; a specific poem, story, essay, song, book, or film from which you might take inspiration; or a current event or a topical theme. A writing prompt is filled with endless possibilities—and there is no wrong way to use one to generate new writing!

What makes our writing prompts unique? We have an archive of over 2,000 prompts, all original and offered here and in our weekly newsletter . You’ll find a variety of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction prompts—some inspired by recent and classic literature and other forms of art, current events, and writing practices, and others that offer guidance for a particular form, including sonnets, erasure poetry, flash fiction, lyric essays, and more. For more than fifty years, Poets & Writers has supported creative writers with trustworthy information and inspiration, and our weekly prompts provide a regular dose of encouragement and motivation.

What are the benefits of using writing prompts? Writing prompts can help you get unstuck if you’re in a rut and the ideas aren’t flowing. But even if you’re not experiencing writer’s block, writing prompts can offer a fresh take or a new approach to a work-in-progress. Writing prompts can also provide the motivation to experiment with a new form, try out a new genre, or learn about other writing techniques. And writing prompts are an invaluable tool for teachers who want to encourage and inspire their writing students.

What is this list of Best Books? Best Books for Writers is a list of essential books for creative writers that we curate to support your writing practice. Every week, we add a book (whether new or a classic) with a synopsis and highlights. Included are books on the writing life, anthologies of craft essays, collections of lectures, practical guides with writing exercises, and more.

Poetry writing prompts Every Tuesday we post a new poetry prompt to guide you in your practice. Get to know the work of contemporary and classic poets, as well as a variety of poetic forms.

Fiction writing prompts Every Wednesday we post a new fiction prompt to spark your imagination. Take inspiration from recently published short stories and novels, and of course, the classics.

Creative nonfiction writing prompts Every Thursday we post a new creative nonfiction prompt to help your exploration of this ever-changing genre. These prompts include information and inspiration for a variety of essays as well as memoirs. Discover new writers and their craft, and fresh ways to generate writing inspired by your life.

Need a starter pack? Check out our Writing Prompts for Beginners .

TREVOR’S WRITING CATALOG

Living through a Pandemic fully edited 2024

The Mystery of the locked doors the complete story 2024 revised

My Journey to Boynton Beach revised

The Nightmare Realm revised 2024

Bioshock 2024 updated review

The Pandemic Story parts one and two

Mixer and Filth’s adventures revised 2024

Adventures in the Sky: The Epilogue

My Dog Millie

Chaos is Destined After Death: The Story

Trevor and Barry Storytime

What If Everything Was Free??

Adventures in the Sky

INTRODUCING TREVOR’S WRITING CATALOG

Hello site viewers this is the owner Trevor here to tell you a bit about myself.  I first started writing when I was in the seventh grade writing a story which would become a fictional book called "Adventures in the sky" ever since then I've been fine tuning my craft and improving each step of the way, took a creative writing course in high school and a couple English courses in college.  When combining everything I learned then and what I know now, my writing has improved tremendously and I am still working on improving further and further along today :).

Pieces of My Career

THE GOLDEN NEEDLE

The grain of the land.

BRIDGE TO THE FOG

A precious truth.

Virginia Woolf

“Every secret of a writer’s soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind, is written large in his works”

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Meadow Hill’s Creative Writing Club Celebrates Published Book

Meadow Hill would like to congratulate Mrs. Blair-Powell’s Creative Writing Club on the creation of their first publication entitled  Sparkling GEMS: An Anthology of Poems and Short Stories . The publication also includes original artwork created by members of the club. Club members recently held a publishing party where they showcased their work to the administration as well as other members of the school’s faculty and staff.  

PHOTOS | Meadow Hill’s Creative Writing Club Celebrates Published Book

Story and photos by Melissa Winfield-Corbett

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Sicko who slaughtered beloved nyc creative producer in her apartment could be locked up for life.

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The deranged sicko who slaughtered a beloved creative producer — trailing her inside her Chinatown apartment and stabbing her to death with a knife from her own kitchen — took a plea deal Tuesday that could keep him locked up for life.

Assumed Nash, 27, pleaded guilty to second-degree murder and first-degree burglary as a sexually motivated felony for butchering Christina Yuna Lee , a Rutgers University graduate who worked in digital media, after he followed her into her Chrystie Street home on Feb. 13, 2022.

The cold-blooded killer, wearing an orange jumpsuit, a cast on his right hand and a face mask, stared straight at Manhattan Supreme Court Judge Laura Ward as he accepted the plea, which carries a promised sentence of 30-years-to-life in state prison.

As Ward read him the terms of the agreement — noting that he had knowingly broken into Lee’s apartment to hurt her for “sexual gratification” — Nash denied it, unleashing a bizarre, nearly inaudible rant.

“That parts not true,” he mumbled before his attorneys jumped in, with Nash eventually admitting his carnal urges in the shocking crime, telling the judge “yes” when she re-read that part of the agreement.

Manhattan Assistant District Attorney Dafna Yorna told the judge that having Nash plead guilty to second-degree murder would “enable a longer sentence that wouldn’t possible” had he still faced the initial first-degree murder rap, which carries a sentence of 25-to-life in prison or life without parole.

Nash was caught on surveillance camera trailing Lee up six flights of stairs after she came home from a night out at around 4:20 a.m. before he ran up behind her and pushed his way inside her apartment, Manhattan prosecutors said.

“Help me! Call 911!” Lee, who worked as a senior creative producer at digital music platform Splice, was heard screaming by neighbors.

But her desperate cries came too late as Nash had stabbed her at least 40 times, including in the head, neck and torso, and left her body in the bathtub, prosecutors have said.

The cowardly Nash had infamously tried escaping the apartment through the fire escape but was spooked when he saw a police officer on the roof above him.

He was eventually found hiding underneath the victim’s bed, with the bloodied kitchen knife hidden behind a dresser in the bedroom, cops said.

Nash’s guilty plea comes near two years after he proclaimed his innocence to The Post , bragging that he didn’t think prosecutors had enough evidence to lock him up.

“They gotta have you on camera killing her. They don’t got me on camera killing her. They only got me on camera following her into the building,” Nash said at the time, claiming that he was “too high” on a “dust and K2” cocktail to remember the moments leading up to the killing.

Nash also claimed that Lee, who worked on campaigns for Google, Twix and Equinox, had “invited” him — a homeless, career criminal with robberies and petit crimes on his rap sheet — over for a drink because she was having a party.

He also said he had “mental problems” since childhood, but couldn’t identify a specific diagnosis — but said he was taking Remeron, an anti-depressant, while locked up in May 2022.

The murder of Lee, who was of Korean-American descent, sparked community leaders to demand action from the city when attacks against Asian American Pacific Islander New Yorkers skyrocketed in 2022.

“Today Assamad Nash was held accountable for senselessly taking Christina Yuna Lee’s life after he followed her into her own home,” Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg said in a statement.

“Ms. Yuna Lee’s family and loved ones were deprived of a daughter, sister, and friend. My thoughts are with her family and our community as they continue healing from this tragedy.” 

Lee’s family, who declined to comment following Nash’s guilty plea, sued New York City and the NYPD in 2023 over alleged inaction, claiming that the NYPD failed to intervene during the vicious murder .

Nash is expected to be sentenced on July 30. His defense attorney, Michael Gompers, did not immediately return request for comment.

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100 Last-Day-of-School Activities Your Students Will Love!

The Best Student Writing Contests for 2023-2024

Help your students take their writing to the next level.

When students write for teachers, it can feel like an assignment. When they write for a real purpose, they are empowered! Student writing contests are a challenging and inspiring way to try writing for an authentic audience— a real panel of judges —and the possibility of prize money or other incentives. We’ve gathered a list of the best student writing contests, and there’s something for everyone. Prepare highly motivated kids in need of an authentic writing mentor, and watch the words flow.

1.  The Scholastic Art & Writing Awards

With a wide range of categories—from critical essays to science fiction and fantasy—The Scholastic Awards are a mainstay of student contests. Each category has its own rules and word counts, so be sure to check out the options  before you decide which one is best for your students.

How To Enter

Students in grades 7-12, ages 13 and up, may begin submitting work in September by uploading to an online account at Scholastic and connecting to their local region. There are entry fees, but those can be waived for students in need.

2.  YoungArts National Arts Competition

This ends soon, but if you have students who are ready to submit, it’s worth it. YoungArts offers a national competition in the categories of creative nonfiction, novel, play or script, poetry, short story, and spoken word. Student winners may receive awards of up to $10,000 as well as the chance to participate in artistic development with leaders in their fields.

YoungArts accepts submissions in each category through October 13. Students submit their work online and pay a $35 fee (there is a fee waiver option).

3. National Youth Foundation Programs

Each year, awards are given for Student Book Scholars, Amazing Women, and the “I Matter” Poetry & Art competition. This is a great chance for kids to express themselves with joy and strength.

The rules, prizes, and deadlines vary, so check out the website for more info.

4.  American Foreign Service National High School Essay Contest

If you’re looking to help students take a deep dive into international relations, history, and writing, look no further than this essay contest. Winners receive a voyage with the Semester at Sea program and a trip to Washington, DC.

Students fill out a registration form online, and a teacher or sponsor is required. The deadline to enter is the first week of April.

5.  John F. Kennedy Profile in Courage Essay Contest

This annual contest invites students to write about a political official’s act of political courage that occurred after Kennedy’s birth in 1917. The winner receives $10,000, and 16 runners-up also receive a variety of cash prizes.

Students may submit a 700- to 1,000-word essay through January 12. The essay must feature more than five sources and a full bibliography.

6. Bennington Young Writers Awards

Bennington College offers competitions in three categories: poetry (a group of three poems), fiction (a short story or one-act play), and nonfiction (a personal or academic essay). First-place winners receive $500. Grab a poster for your classroom here .

The contest runs from September 1 to November 1. The website links to a student registration form.

7. The Princeton Ten-Minute Play Contest

Looking for student writing contests for budding playwrights? This exclusive competition, which is open only to high school juniors, is judged by the theater faculty of Princeton University. Students submit short plays in an effort to win recognition and cash prizes of up to $500. ( Note: Only open to 11th graders. )

Students submit one 10-page play script online or by mail. The deadline is the end of March. Contest details will be published in early 2024.

8. Princeton University Poetry Contest for High School Students

The Leonard L. Milberg ’53 High School Poetry Prize recognizes outstanding work by student writers in 11th grade. Prizes range from $100 to $500.

Students in 11th grade can submit their poetry. Contest details will be published this fall.

9. The New York Times Tiny Memoir Contest

This contest is also a wonderful writing challenge, and the New York Times includes lots of resources and models for students to be able to do their best work. They’ve even made a classroom poster !

Submissions need to be made electronically by November 1.

10.  Nancy Thorp Poetry Contest

The deadline for this contest is the end of October. Sponsored by Hollins University, the Nancy Thorp Poetry Contest awards prizes for the best poems submitted by young women who are sophomores or juniors in high school or preparatory school. Prizes include cash and scholarships. Winners are chosen by students and faculty members in the creative writing program at Hollins.

Students may submit either one or two poems using the online form.

11.  The Patricia Grodd Poetry Prize for Young Writers

The Patricia Grodd Poetry Prize for Young Writers is open to high school sophomores and juniors, and the winner receives a full scholarship to a  Kenyon Review Young Writers Workshop .

Submissions for the prize are accepted electronically from November 1 through November 30.

12. Jane Austen Society Essay Contest

High school students can win up to $1,000 and publication by entering an essay on a topic specified by the Jane Austen Society related to a Jane Austen novel.

Details for the 2024 contest will be announced in November. Essay length is from six to eight pages, not including works cited.

13. Rattle Young Poets Anthology

Open to students from 15 to 18 years old who are interested in publication and exposure over monetary awards.

Teachers may choose five students for whom to submit up to four poems each on their behalf. The deadline is November 15.

14. The Black River Chapbook Competition

This is a chance for new and emerging writers to gain publication in their own professionally published chapbook, as well as $500 and free copies of the book.

There is an $18 entry fee, and submissions are made online.

15. YouthPlays New Voices

For students under 18, the YouthPlays one-act competition is designed for young writers to create new works for the stage. Winners receive cash awards and publication.

Scroll all the way down their web page for information on the contest, which accepts non-musical plays between 10 and 40 minutes long, submitted electronically. Entries open each year in January.

16. The Ocean Awareness Contest

The 2024 Ocean Awareness Contest, Tell Your Climate Story , encourages students to write their own unique climate story. They are asking for creative expressions of students’ personal experiences, insights, or perceptions about climate change. Students are eligible for a wide range of monetary prizes up to $1,000.

Students from 11 to 18 years old may submit work in the categories of art, creative writing, poetry and spoken word, film, interactive media and multimedia, or music and dance, accompanied by a reflection. The deadline is June 13.

17. EngineerGirl Annual Essay Contest

Each year, EngineerGirl sponsors an essay contest with topics centered on the impact of engineering on the world, and students can win up to $500 in prize money. This contest is a nice bridge between ELA and STEM and great for teachers interested in incorporating an interdisciplinary project into their curriculum. The new contest asks for pieces describing the life cycle of an everyday object. Check out these tips for integrating the content into your classroom .

Students submit their work electronically by February 1. Check out the full list of rules and requirements here .

18. NCTE Student Writing Awards

The National Council of Teachers of English offers several student writing awards, including Achievement Awards in Writing (for 10th- and 11th-grade students), Promising Young Writers (for 8th-grade students), and an award to recognize Excellence in Art and Literary Magazines.

Deadlines range from October 28 to February 15. Check out NCTE.org for more details.

19. See Us, Support Us Art Contest

Children of incarcerated parents can submit artwork, poetry, photos, videos, and more. Submissions are free and the website has a great collection of past winners.

Students can submit their entries via social media or email by October 25.

20. The Adroit Prizes for Poetry & Prose

The Adroit Journal, an education-minded nonprofit publication, awards annual prizes for poetry and prose to exceptional high school and college students. Adroit charges an entry fee but also provides a form for financial assistance.

Sign up at the website for updates for the next round of submissions.

21. National PTA Reflections Awards

The National PTA offers a variety of awards, including one for literature, in their annual Reflections Contest. Students of all ages can submit entries on the specified topic to their local PTA Reflections program. From there, winners move to the local area, state, and national levels. National-level awards include an $800 prize and a trip to the National PTA Convention.

This program requires submitting to PTAs who participate in the program. Check your school’s PTA for their deadlines.

22. World Historian Student Essay Competition

The World Historian Student Essay Competition is an international contest open to students enrolled in grades K–12 in public, private, and parochial schools, as well as those in home-study programs. The $500 prize is based on an essay that addresses one of this year’s two prompts.

Students can submit entries via email or regular mail before May 1.

23. NSHSS Creative Writing Scholarship

The National Society of High School Scholars awards three $2,000 scholarships for both poetry and fiction. They accept poetry, short stories, and graphic novel writing.

Apply online by October 31.

Whether you let your students blog, start a podcast or video channel, or enter student writing contests, giving them an authentic audience for their work is always a powerful classroom choice.

If you like this list of student writing contests and want more articles like it, subscribe to our newsletters to find out when they’re posted!

Plus, check out our favorite anchor charts for teaching writing..

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Best 2024 Competitions for Students in Grades K-12

Competitions in STEM, ELA and the arts, and more! Continue Reading

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11 Plus Creative Writing for 2024 and 2025 exams

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Age range: 11-14

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13 June 2024

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New and updated for 2024 and 2025 examinations Stories and descriptive writing 50 creative writing prompts

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‘This Is Going to Be Painful’: How a Bold A.I. Device Flopped

Humane’s Ai Pin was supposed to free people from smartphones, but sales have been slow. Now Humane is talking to HP and others about a potential sale.

Humane released the $699 Ai Pin in April. Credit... Andri Tambunan for The New York Times

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By Tripp Mickle and Erin Griffith

Reporting from San Francisco

• Published June 6, 2024 Updated June 7, 2024

Days before gadget reviewers weighed in on the Humane Ai Pin , a futuristic wearable device powered by artificial intelligence, the founders of the company gathered their employees and encouraged them to brace themselves. The reviews might be disappointing, they warned.

Humane’s founders, Bethany Bongiorno and Imran Chaudhri, were right. In April, reviewers brutally panned the new $699 product, which Humane had marketed for a year with ads and at glitzy events like Paris Fashion Week. The Ai Pin was “ totally broken ” and had “ glaring flaws ,” some reviewers said. One declared it “ the worst product I’ve ever reviewed .”

About a week after the reviews came out, Humane started talking to HP, the computer and printer company, about selling itself for more than $1 billion, three people with knowledge of the conversations said. Other potential buyers have emerged, though talks have been casual and no formal sales process has begun.

Humane retained Tidal Partners, an investment bank, to help navigate the discussions while also managing a new funding round that would value it at $1.1 billion, three people with knowledge of the plans said.

The developments amount to a face-plant by Humane, which had positioned itself as a top contender among a wave of A.I. hardware makers. The San Francisco company had raised $240 million from powerful Silicon Valley investors, including Sam Altman, OpenAI’s chief executive, and Marc Benioff, Salesforce’s chief executive, who valued the start-up at $1 billion based on its enormous ambition and promise. Humane spent five years building a device to disrupt the smartphone — only to flounder.

As of early April, Humane had received around 10,000 orders for the Ai Pin, a small fraction of the 100,000 that it hoped to sell this year, two people familiar with its sales said. In recent months, the company has also grappled with employee departures and changed a return policy to address canceled orders . On Wednesday, it asked customers to stop using the Ai Pin charging case because of a fire risk associated with its battery.

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Bishop’s school still seeking ‘a good match’ for former jack in the box site.

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Best Bets: A quick guide to La Jolla entertainment and experiences

Community Calendar: La Jolla meetings and more, June 20-28

La jolla light news.

La Jolla News Nuggets: National Charity League, blood donations, plant research, more

Belmont village la jolla hosts ucsd retired artists for showcase, prosecutors still reviewing cases, weighing possible charges for uc san diego protesters, la jolla scientists contribute to global study of nitrous oxide emissions, la jolla crime and public safety news: lifeguard rescue operations, blotter, la jolla light things to do.

Community Calendar: La Jolla meetings and more, June 13-21

La jolla music society’s 2024-25 season will feature music and dance luminaries in nearly 70-show schedule, ‘sacred architecture’: la jolla historical society exhibit to showcase the design behind houses of worship, la jolla light sports.

La Jolla High’s Tom Atwell completes 300-mile ride and run for breast cancer research

La jolla surfer mike hynson to be inducted onto walk of fame, high school playoff roundup: bishop’s and country day fall in boys volleyball quarterfinals, sports roundup: bishop’s and country day advance in boys volleyball playoffs, high school playoff roundup: la jolla lives up to championship pedigree with cif division i boys tennis title.