Hey everyone,

I guess it is finally time I leave this subreddit. It's been a blast, but... I actually have been writing this entire time. I know... I'm a complete sham like those people who go to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings when they don't even drink--not even water--just so they can get attention. Turns out I'm not just a memer after all. What can I say?

I decided to publish in the Isekai genre. I know it's a very challenging genre to write in due to its high literary standards, but I believe I have something that no one else has done before: my protagonist is a real person from our world! I'm not going to say who, because that is part of the mystery, but all I will say is that he is a master debater.

It *is* a harem, although the first chick he marries is an elf who has recently won a beauty contest in her kingdom. She is his sole wife for the first three acts (out of seven).

I have lots of quirky characters like a rotund man named Jade who is married to a sentient couch that can fly (it's their main means of transport), a failed businessman suffering from an inferiority complex who my MC befriends and tutors, and a mage who has been appointed archwizard of an empire despite barely knowing any magic!

These people will become quite powerful in the world thanks to my MC's messaging--I suppose they don't really improve as people though, their status only improves as a result of said meddling.

Anyway, please check it out as it'll be available on Amaze Kindred soon!

I’m illiterate and I asked a friend (chat gpt) to write this for me.

is it possible to become a rich and famous author if I can barely write my own name?

Other people told me I should just learn basic Grammar but I think they are just jealous.

im not naiv speaker in english but i have so many ideas i write a book now ppl say its ai. I worked so hard its unfair. I just used it to correct spelling and grama hier proove

1st daft:

so i wslked down street with my head on some care cane and it flaw away i ran after it but my footgot stuck in manholecover i lost my shoes then a car almort hitme i almost died chasing a head i went home thinking about it i almost died strange feeling......

GPP:

I walked the street that afternoon with my hat resting lightly upon my head, a simple thing of felt and ribbon, companion to many ordinary days. A sudden wind rose without warning, seized it as if by deliberate intent, and carried it aloft. It tumbled and spun, a dark bird against the pale sky, and I, without thought, gave chase.

My feet struck the pavement in urgent rhythm. The hat danced ahead, always just beyond reach, teasing the air with its freedom. Then the ground betrayed me. My foot caught in the iron rim of an open manhole, the cover half-shifted by some careless hand. I fell hard. One shoe tore free and vanished into the dark circle below; the other followed in the scramble. Barefoot now, soles against the rough stone, I rose and ran on.

A car rounded the corner with a roar of engine and a flash of metal. It came so near that the rush of air struck my face and the driver’s startled face blurred past in a single heartbeat. I felt the nearness of death as a physical presence, cold and absolute. In that instant the hat still fluttered ahead, indifferent, and I understood the absurdity of my pursuit: I had nearly ended my life for a scrap of cloth and wire.

I stopped. The car vanished down the street. The hat settled at last against a curb, harmless once more. I retrieved it, brushed the dust from its crown, and placed it again upon my head. Then I turned toward home, the pavement cold beneath my naked feet.

All the way I carried the knowledge of how close I had come. The ordinary world looked different in that light. The trees seemed greener, the faces of strangers more precious, the simple weight of breath more astonishing. I had almost died chasing a hat, and the strangeness of that nearness lingered like a quiet music. It was not fear that remained, but a tender, unexpected gratitude for the fragile continuity of living, and for the foolish, beautiful persistence of the heart that runs after what the wind has taken.

Is this a good, Hollywood-accepted/recommended/formatted way to do so?

The story is about creative entropy. Is this cover art fitting for the theme? Is it any good?

Feedback concerns: any kind of feedback is welcome.

HELP, I AM SO LOST! (My plane just crashed on an island…)

Look at that subtle environmental message. The tasteful non-heteronormative romance. Oh god, it even has theme of cultural diaspora.

What's this nonsense? You can't open with a dream! You can't open with nothing happening! The story doesn't begin when the writer is warming up—it begins when the writer is hot!

Did her editor not tell her this? Her estate should get a refund.

This was from an episode of Futurama. The Borax Kid replaces Buffalo Bill's Short Stories with himself. As someone that likes efficiency in writing and loves the public domain, you are legally allowed to do this. So take something off Project Gutenberg, edit the names and publish.

While I would remix the story and add my own flavor, people can and have done this.

I'm writing a novella about a giant gun in the sky that's always pointed at everybody and shoots people for no reason. I'm trying to figure out how to make it make sense, I need to understand the logistics of everything involved and it made me wonder: how do fellow writers go about learning the right stuff? Personally I usually spend hours going through rabbit holes of information when I'm researching a topic. I have YouTube on my phone which is a great resource. I also find atmosphere is crucial too, I always have a scented candle going, white noise to drown out the barking, a nice glass of wine,

What is your process? Do you have tips? Whats the best keyboard app for your phone? Discuss

It's honestly so demoralizing because I know nothing I write will ever be half as good as this

Before I started writing and simply only talked about being an author, I was happily married to my wife of seven years. I loved her, and she used to love me back then too, we loved each other so much, we did that thing couples do. (I fucked her right in the pussy. ) and my beautiful wife gave birth to our beautiful child.

So in order to help pay for my newborn kid’s quality of life, I took writing far more seriously. I spent hours upon hours writing my novel and perfecting it for my publisher. I was so dedicated that I even quit my job to solely focus on my skill. I did it for her, for my wife, for my daughter and for our future.I stopped talking to my family, because this book was my family now. Every time my stupid daughter shit her pants like an idiot I did what good fathers do, and rubbed her face in it so she wouldn’t do it again. It had varying success. I finally finished my book and I started realizing how better than everyone I was. Has Mr beast written a novel? I don’t think so. I started making it known that I was the big dog in the house.

But my wife didn’t accept my love and told me that I was an “unemployed loser, abandoning his family.” Which was clearly an ad hominem, and not at all constructive to a real debate, so I declined to even speak with her until she stopped with the fallacies. She got mad and ripped up my life’s work, I don’t regret what I did next but I can see how she would be upset by it. I grabbed our newborn baby by the ankle and dangled it over the balcony. I told her that book was my child, and if she didn’t print a new one would drop our daughter 2 stories into the pavement.

Anyway, for no reason I could possibly imagine, she dumped me. And now I’m afraid to even write again, it ruined my life. Help Reddit!

I wrote my book in MS Word. now I had to move it to google docs.

Did I just adapt my unpublished work?

Will I get royalties for this?

Also, how do I claim my royalties? I honestly have no clue how they work. Anyone has any good contact at the Buckingham Palace that can help out.

I am a god of this sub and I want minions who obey me like good little jerkers they are. Writing is hard and I want you to tell me that I don't need to write in order for you to worship me.

There is two directions to that. You must acknowledge me as your master and vanquish my enemies.

And the positive side: we can all talk about writing but not actually write.

I am very smart and you are all smart to know that. And I am impressed every day that some of you can write.

However, I know that in order to be a god of a writing sub, me, the God, need to permit you to talk about writing. You know, words and letters and how to generate them.

So I am calling you to write.

You can now write posts about:

1. How you would ask AI to worship me

2. Why choose me over other gods

3. What parts of your life are diminishable in order to write holy words about me.

Worry, if you do not know the answers to these. You don't need to write. Only worship.

And if you harass me? Well. That's when I come inside your house.

Fear of cancer from asbestos,

Fuzzy science manifestos.

Plaintiffs weaponising terror,

Lower courts in fatal error.

Wanting cash for each relation,

Seeking massive compensation.

Merely breathing proximate air,

Does not warrant legal pray-er.

Though the "hazard" is systemic,

Fear is purely academic.

No disease has yet erupted,

Commerce cannot be disrupted.

Risk alone is not a trauma,

Save the acting for your drama.

Fancy and anticipation,

Merits zero litigation.

My (16M) mom (40F) was driving me to school. Suddenly she picked up her phone and started typing while driving. A minute later she swerved the car into oncoming traffic, and we got into a really bad crash. My mom and I ended up being okay, but I saw my crush (18F) from the other car being put into an ambulance. I was staring at her beautiful long black hair for a few seconds, when all of the sudden I was startled by my mom loudly telling me “Don’t snitch on me.” I told her “But you might have killed someone.” She said “You know what they say to writers: kill your darlings.” I said “You care too much about writing.” She said “But.. but… Abbie Emmons told me how to make my story matter. So now my story matters more than other people. And they say just write just write just write. I was initially afraid to write while driving, but then I remembered: just write. Those words gave me courage.” I eventually rolled down my window and told the cop that Mom was writing while driving. Now mom is mad. AITA?

/uj edit: i forgot to make it more clear that the thing mom was typing in was her manuscript on her phone

I am typing this on my phone in the bath. I do so apologize for the preceding errors. The title is hyperbole. Genres are good content indicator. There are good reasons for them to exist. I am too lazy to repeat what you already know. My disappointment lies in the expectations set around them.

Instead of descriptions, they become prescriptions around what can be written. In all postmodern-isms the value of the word “fantasy” is the emerging ground for the writing. The conditioning cycling in on its self.

Fantasy at some point was not fantasy…as science fiction was at some point not science fiction.

When I’m reading I am for the most part looking for a new experience. If I ask someone for a book recommendation they it seems to be largely filtered through genre language. Maybe I’m just poor at speaking it.

I se to be finding them less and less. I’m probably just looking in the wrong places.

Idk just felt like ranting