Advice, insights and news
Free 10-day publishing courses
Free publishing webinars
Free EPUB & PDF typesetting tool
Launch your book in style
Assemble a team of pros
A weekly short story contest
Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2021
I'm going to hot dog when I damn well please. This is what the lunatic businessman thought as he drifted away from his party, wooshing through the fresh white powder, into a thicket of trees representing something he'll always deny to be aware of: the unknown. An oilman, a marketeer, a real sunuvabitch, Kris Drimsuke knew it at all, or so he thought. After making Exxon Mobil millions upon millions of dollars with his p...
When I opened the golden envelope from mom this morning, I didn't expect it to lead me to a cracked leather bench in the back aisle of a bus going north of town. The smell is wretched, like rotten eggs and a musty shirt belonging to a teen athlete, but I couldn't spare gas money. The photograph wedged in between the packets of medical information and his death certificate didn't bring me any closer to da...
When I was twelve I lost a football to the abyss that was Mr. Wellerbey's vast yard. The grass was as green as a soccer field, and hosted countless boots from tired, sweaty workers every Saturday, whether it rained that week or not. The neighborhood kids and I, Joey, Mike and Scott were tossing the rock around, playing 2-on-2, when J-Man told me to go deep and did his best Jamarcus Russell impersonation, lofting the bal...
His body drops in a way she doesn't expect. Janet poisoned her husband David's food, yes, but she's still unsure what exactly she put in the tuna. Rather than plopping to the floor like characters in stories or real people in documentaries, David's body hits the ground and levitates upward. Janet is not a scientist; she's a clerk at Walgreens. But, she knows about gravity and is aware that when things crash to the ground...
Bruce swore up and down I’d enjoy myself. The smell of stale cigarettes wafted through the half empty Irish bar as we hunched over the table on the third floor. The place was never full, but had three stories, each with their own schtick. The first floor was a dive bar, a grimy low lit space with nothing but guys belonging to bro past and bro present. The next level represented a music venue, with a 10x10 foot stage cram...
“Ok, keep your eyes closed.” “Why do I have to keep my eyes closed? You have me on the phone,” Lyle said peering across the desolate park covered in fresh, sparkling powder. “Yeah, but it’s still a surprise. Ok, you’re behind the bushes near Skelton Park, right?” “Yes. Lillian, I still don’t know why you dragged me out here. I’m on my lunch break and it’s as cold as a wit...
Writing for fun. Constantly battling frequent ideas and crippling self doubt.
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email: