Now a quick breath and on to editing!! 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

I've written and completed projects before. I posted them on web fiction websites. I'm far from popular, not even niche, but I did it. Yet, I still feel like a fake author.

Why? Probably because I haven't written a novel yet. A poem collection, flash fiction and one shots, novellas and novelettes, but not a single full fledged novel.

I have experience and manuscripts I can analyze to improve my writing, but I still feel like a fake. The sad thing is, I know it will go away once I complete a draft that is 80,000 words or longer. But now? I'm just a bum who's good at typing :)

Am I the only one with the weirdest imposter syndrome?

They're funny and relatable a little, but it seems like memes are the only type of post that gets a lot of traction, not people asking for feedback, or starting a discussion about writing, which are arguably a more important purpose of this sub.

Also I swear some of them are bots because they repost the same memes that went viral a month prior.

As the title suggests, I am wrestling with the consequences of my actions. Just here to commiserate and potentially find connection with others who might've made this mistake. Anyone else done the same?

I finished my manuscript back in July. Spent August and September editing by myself because I didn't have a community of writers who could beta read for me at the time. By early October of this month, I was sick of the manuscript and pushed a ton of queries out. The query package itself was decent imo. Got three manuscript requests by the third week of querying. Problem is, I am just realizing now after doing a reread that the manuscript is not where it should be. I am spending the weekend doing whatever the hell I can to write myself out of the glaring plot holes I've found, but I am beyond depressed about it. I feel as though I've set myself up for only heartbreak, and now my child is going out into the world without the proper preparation.

The delusion and the cosmic horror of being an author is the idea that you could be coming up with all these characters, backstories, motivations, traumas, struggles, tears, laughter, and growth just to dump it into a sea of other authors whose names you'll never know. Whose stories go unread.

I'm writing the first draft of my story, a world I have been making for the last few years, but as I write my first draft I begin to doubt that the story would even be interesting. I know the story I want to tell, I just doubt that it's gonna be interesting and fun enough for others. Especially after seeing all of the other fantasy stories out there, I'm wondering is this a common feeling or is it a sign I should take a step back? I'm just afraid it won't hold up to what's on the market already and that all this effort would be for naught.

There are two very similar writers’ groups in San Francisco—the Writers Grotto, and Page Street—both of which require application to join, both of which offer physical space and community for writing, and both of which require a not insignificant fee. I’m interested in folks who have experience with either, but mostly in anyone who knows both of these organizations well enough to compare them. I know their histories fairly well already. What I’m looking for mainly, I suppose, is how they’re different in style and demographic. Thanks.

I probably sold have waited longer! But I didn’t! Let the rejections commence!

I just got the weirdest call out of the blue.

the person said she was calling on behalf of a bookstore in London that's having a workshop international literature, and they were looking to buy 25 copies of my "wonderful" book to use for it. I'm an American from Louisiana.

It's one I self-published on Amazon years ago, in college, and had nearly forgotten about by now.

Having honed my craft since then, I would not even consider it worth sharing. I was like, "is that really what you want as an example of American literature in an international context?"

She said yeah, she was just calling to confirm I'm the correct author. She then took my email address so she can send me an email about it.

I'm not even sure how they got my number? They said it was forwarded to them by whatever content researcher they hired?

If you're gonna datamine for my number, why not get my email while you're at it?

My short story has now turned into a 40+ pages thing and I am not even halfway through writing the entire idea.
Also, I like the story but I think it would be very cringy if others saw it, but I am happy with my little work.
Just sharing to take this off my chest, I hope you guys are having a good day

As stated, I'd like to base a novel on an event that happened in America in the 1890s. It was a impromptu and rather incognito shipping of important items by rail across the country. I'd like to add some drama and since I don't have resources stating the names of the conductor and other train crew, and also for simplicities sake, I'd like to make my own characters. Is this feasible?

TIA, Collinius

As a planner, I'm at a stage in my novel where I'm now building plot freeform a few revisions in. My original plot's ending has been wide open -this specific project being sci-fi drama- but it's also too gray. I accept the challenge. I've been reworking from the beginning, from my MC's lense, to build plot out and it's made everything stronger.

However, I'm wondering how you keep momentum writing the unknown, and if you actually think things through beforehand or jump. Any tips? It feels foreign having removed my iron fist.

I adore writing dialogue. I love the rush of fight scenes. But dear God I can't find any joy in describing character appearances or environments! How can I find a way to have fun with this very important aspect? Are there any resources or practices you all have that you think would aid me?

I've tried so hard to stare out my window and romanticize the mountains in the distance. They're very pretty, imposing and uh...big? HOW DO I CONVERT SCENERY INTO WRITING.

Additionally, how do I describe a characters appearance in a fun way that isn't just a clinical head to toe "white hair, green eyes, sickly pale complexion, stooped shoulders, wardrobe meant to blend in rather than stand out, fairly tall-" I just don't understand how to make any of that interesting to me in writing. Can it come in pieces? Can I neglect to tell the reader about a visual detail i find important until 4 chapters later when a relevant situation allows me the time? It sounds jarring to not have a fully composed mental image of a character, at least to me. I'm not sure, please id love some assistance!

I actually wrote the original of this story a couple years ago, but I decided to rewrite it to see how I've improved. Problem is I'm pretty insecure about my work so I have no idea if it's as bad as I think or actually alright.

I'd like some honest feedback on what I did well and what I could do better. Thank you!

I've always been someone who genuinely loves writing. Even as a kid, I loved journaling, having pen pals, writing Narnia fan fiction, and coming up with ridiculous little short stories. For as long as I can remember, I've loved the idea of becoming an author.

Throughout high school and college, I took a handful of creative writing classes and absolutely loved them. Writing always came pretty naturally to me, and I consistently received great feedback on my assignments. Even outside of creative writing, essays and writing projects were always my strong suit. Whenever I've shared my writing with other people, whether it's excerpts from these projects, short stories for my nieces and nephews, speeches, or even a eulogy, I've consistently received really positive feedback about the writing. I never really pursued it seriously in college, though, partly because my parents encouraged me to focus on classes that would lead to a more conventional career.

Here's where I'm struggling.

For probably the last decade or more, I've had four different book and series ideas across several genres that I've wanted to write. I love coming up with concepts, magic systems, and political systems. I can spend hours imagining a world, creating characters, figuring out their personalities, relationships, names, and even their potential character arcs. I also genuinely enjoy the actual process of writing. Sometimes I'll just sit down with one of these ideas, without much of a plan, and start writing scenes. I love getting lost in it.

But for the life of me, I cannot come up with an actual plot, and it's driving me crazy.

I can picture the world. I know the atmosphere I'm going for. I know how I want the story to feel. I can imagine the characters, their personalities, and the kinds of experiences I want them to have. But when it comes to figuring out what actually happens in the story, my mind just goes completely blank.

I don't know how to take these ideas and turn them into a compelling sequence of events. I struggle to come up with conflicts, twists, meaningful developments, or even a clear direction for the characters to go. I can create the setting and the people who inhabit it, but I can't seem to figure out what story to tell with them.

And it's not like I haven't tried. One of these projects has been floating around in my head for nearly ten years. I keep coming back to it because I genuinely believe there's something worthwhile there. I have the premise, the world, the villains, the outfits, idiosyncrasies of characters, and a general sense of what I want it to be, but I've never managed to turn it into a story.

The frustrating part is that I don't feel like I'm lacking imagination. I have no trouble dreaming up interesting concepts or building fictional worlds. It's specifically the plotting that seems impossible for me.

I've tried just sitting down and writing without an outline, hoping the story will reveal itself as I go, but I always seem to hit the same wall.

I feel like I've got half the writer's skill set and am missing an essential half. Am I just not cut out for this?

Is plotting something you can genuinely learn and get better at, or is the ability to come up with compelling stories something that should just come more naturally?

Has anyone else struggled with this?

I have been writing for a while but still struggle with hooks and descriptions of setting so I want to know what works and doesn't work here. I also want to know of anything you can infer about this passage so far.

“I’m your sister! It’s my job to worry. Gods, sometimes I wish you actually couldn’t speak so I’d have an excuse to speak up for you.”

The hallway seemed to close in on me. I tried to say that I didn’t want her involved at all, but nothing came out. Not a grunt, not a word, just air—blowing out the candle I was holding. But this was different from my typical silence, because it wasn’t internal. I could feel my tongue connecting to the words, my lips shaping them—but I couldn’t say anything. There was no longer any noise except for my sister, who began to cry. 

Elvyra looked up at me, tears running down her face. “No no no… um… I wish you could speak. Please…” she pleaded, but I remained unable to speak.

I knew I should feel distraught but some part of me felt relief. Relief that I finally had an excuse to be silent. Relief that I might be heard louder than I ever had before. How funny was it that I was relieved to be cursed?

I nodded for Elvyra to follow me into my room, where I grabbed my journal. Grabbing my pen and ink, I sat down on my bed to write, patting the quilt next to me for her to sit. The sconces bathed us in candlelight as I told her everything I never got to say, everything I was too scared to. About how sometimes my words got caught in my throat and I couldn’t get them out. About how no one listened to me when I *did* have things to say. By the time I was done, my hand had started to cramp. This time, Elvyra was silent. It might’ve been the first time she had actually heard me. A tear hit the page, smudging the ink. I closed the journal. 

After a while, Elvyra spoke up. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

All I could do was shake my head. There was nothing else left to say.

I know others have posted similar reflections in the past, and given how encouraging they were for me I wanted to pay it forward and share my own experience.

I recently had my first story accepted at a decent literary journal. Depending on which list you look at (1, 2, 3), the journal is ranked in the 30's or 40's (out of several hundred). The magazine routinely appears in the Pushcart and, occasionally, Best American Short Stories anthologies. Below I'll break down my process.

Me: I have no MFA and no connections. This was my cover letter: 

Dear "EDITOR'S NAME",
I submit for publication, "TITLE", an approximately 4,000 word short story. If accepted, this will be my first published work of fiction. This is a simultaneous submission. Thank you for your time.
With Grattitude,
"MY NAME"

Bio:
"MY NAME" lives in "STATE" where he is the "VAGUELY INTERESTING SOUNDING JOB." 

[I've since read that occupation should not be included. As crazy as it sounds, the one sentence bio declaring residency is probably sufficient. ]

The Piece: The story is voice driven and moderately quirky with an intense emotional center. I revised the story over the course of three years. I got regular feedback from a friend who is a good writer and a better reader. The story underwent significant compression, cutting, and rearranging to get to where it is now. Having long gaps in the editing process certainly helped to dial in what mattered and cut what didn't. I had plenty of stories in the works, but this one felt done and complete in a way that the others didn't

Submitting: I knew my story was good, but I knew it was not extremely good. While I could have sent it to The Paris Review, Ploughshares, Harpers, etc, I decided to temper my optimism with some realism. I picked 8-10 publications that I would have been excited to be accepted by, including a few "reaches" (basically in the 40's-10's on the list). 

After I received form rejections from all 10 I committed to another round of edits (this was the initial plan). The story was already highly compressed and pretty locked in place, so this meant reimagining the very ending. (Editors often lament strong stories with weak endings). After this I did another round of submissions. I did a fair amount of research to figure out where else to submit. It seems like not too many places want a voice driven story unless it really slaps. I started browsing the websites of publications that ranked comparably to places I knew and liked. I read their History and About pages. I read snippets of stories published on the website, I looked at their editors. I made my own lists of (more or less) stylistic matches and waited for the subs to open.

On the second round I got two "personal rejections" that praised my story (i.e. This story had great energy and style. While we can't place it now, please consider sending us work in the future.) Rejection Wiki confirmed that these two letters were not as "personal" as they seemed to be. But I took them seriously and was excited! I'll note that both of those publications have way above average rates of "personal rejections" according to The Submissions Grinder. This validation was enough to keep me from lowering my submissions standards for my third and smallest round of submissions. Eight months and several form rejections later there was a single pending submission in my submitable page. Then… boom, "Thanks for sending us this fantastic story… we'd love to publish it in our forthcoming issue, here's the paperwork."

The Takeaways:

1. Have a good story that has been through at least fifty drafts
2. Wait and double check on item 1
3. Submit in batches and revise after each round of rejections. (The story was likely rejected for many reasons, at least some of which you are in control of)
4. Research to make sure that you are submitting to places that are a good match
5. Keep your chin up. Schmucks like us can weasel our way in.
6. As a note: I make a point to subscribe to two different journals a year and buy an occasional back issue to dive deeper into an interesting journal. I do this because I like short stories, I like supporting the small presses, it keeps me in the loop of what's actually being published by which presses, It's fun to get a different sub each year, and it's all a depressing ego race if the only reason one submits is to dump their creation into an anonymous pit that you would never grace with your own, valuable attention.
7. Final note: After that last bit there I just want to say, it's all about having a good time, feeding the inner creative, and finding an audience, no matter how small, for the fruits of our dedication. If you're writing, then you too can do this.

I'm writing a story and I want advice on the narrator. Is it too much? Is it annoying?

I'm young and I honestly don't really have any idea what I want to be doing in the future. So I'm just curious, what have your experiences been like? Did you have any regrets? What would you have wanted to know beforehand? Any advice for me?

before you read, please know that this contains suicide discussion!

“Aki, go get the plates, and make sure to get those spicy Crabby Crabsters special, alright dear?” my father said to me.  
“Sure, I’ll go get it, be right back.” 
Then the TV channel changed to a news report. 
“Today a devastating incident took place, a woman named Chouko Shookhart fell off a building. Authorities are still investigating whether or not it was a murder or suicide.”
That was a week ago. My best friend of ten years, Chouko Shookhart, killed herself.
I started to get out of bed, leaving it messed up beyond recognition. All the clothes I was supposed to put up after getting dinner with my parents are scattered around the bed. I haven’t done anything for a week. Everything is just too much right now. 
“Maybe I just need to pick up a pencil, I haven’t done freelance art in a week, and I’m starting to get low on money…”
As I looked at my canvas, I started feeling a knot in my stomach, twisting and tugging as it moved around. Why am I doing this? I was too busy with work to hang out with her. 
“Maybe I deserve not to have money.. Maybe I should..”
 Before I could finish my thought I heard a sharp ringing sound coming from my door. I went towards it and looked through the rusted iron peephole. When I looked through it I saw Alya, one of me and Chouko’s friends standing outside my door with her emotional support cat, Mr.Meowsers with his little bowtie on. 
My voice came out in a weary and agitated way. 
“What do you want, Alya?”
“I came to check on you. I wanted to know if you're okay…Is it alright if I come in?” 
I looked around my room and saw hundreds of papers crumpled up on the floor, along with bugs crawling around in some spots. I didn’t know how it got this bad, I never thought this would happen to me…maybe if I checked in sooner on her she would be ok…
A soft voice came from the other side of the door and snapped me out of my thoughts. 
“Aki?” 
“Yeah…come in.”
As she walked in, I could tell she was hit with the Putrid smell of rotting food as her eyes narrowed.
“Aki, hold Mr.Meowsers.”
“Oh, uh sure…?”
As I picked up Mr.Meowsers off the floor, I felt his fluffy, silk fur rubbing against my skin, it was warm. I looked up at Alya who started to pick things off the floor and throw them away, I felt a sense of guilt.
“Why are you doing this for me?”
“What do you mean?” 
Alya then got off the floor, stood up, and stared at me as if waiting for me to explain. 
“Aren’t you mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad, Aki?” 
“What do you mean ‘Why would I be mad’?! It’s my fault Chouko killed herself! Maybe if I checked in sooner or if I texted her to see if she was okay, she would still be here!”
Before I could stop myself, I felt hot tricking on my cheeks, my chest was tightening up while my throat was hurting. I tried stopping it by blinking but it didn’t stop. 
“Maybe I could of helped, Maybe I could of-”
Before I could finish my sentence Alya stopped me
“Why are you saying maybe?” 
“Because it’s my fault!”
“No it's not. You're just trying to blame yourself. Sure, you could’ve done something differently, sadly you can’t, and that’s okay, but Chouko is gone. Sometimes I wish I could’ve done something differently.. Maybe I could’ve let her know she was loved more, I wonder if that would’ve stopped her. But we can’t dread the past when it already happens, and we can’t let it take control of our life.” 
Alya then walked over to my canvas and picked up the crumpled papers from the floor, stood up and handed me the paper. 
“The best thing we can do as her friend is to preserve her memory, right?” 
Alya started to break down into tears as she said that with Mr.Meowsers jumping out of my hands to go comfort her by laying on her feet. I didn’t realize it before, but Chouko hurt multiple people, even though she didn’t want to and thought that it was her existence that hurt people. How much did she hurt in her final days, why didn’t she reach out to me. All the things I wish I could’ve said draw me closer to the canvas and as I reach out for my pencil, my heart clenching as I picked it up, those thoughts run through my head again 
“Why should I draw? If I wasn’t so busy she would still be here.” 
I spent so much time listening to those thoughts instead of rejecting them. One stroke, two strokes, all the colors on the canvas coming together for my lost friend. Instead of thinking of her death I think about what she did in her life, what she loved, what she admired. She liked cat’s, admired strawberry shortcake makers because they made her favourite food and most importantly, she was the kindest person i’ve ever met, putting others before herself in every way.  Without realizing it I finished the drawing. Me and Alya stared at the painting, a memory of our friend who left too soon, and somewhere there's a purple butterfly reminding me of her. 

Hey everyone, this is my first post here.

After almost three years of writing, rewriting, editing. I finally finished my first novel, The Child of the Eclipse.

It’s a dark fantasy filled with political conflict, twists and complicated characters.

Now I’m about to enter the next stage: querying literary agents.

Since this is my first book, the whole process feels completely new to me. I love writing, but I also know querying can take a lot of time and persistence, so I’m trying to prepare myself mentally for that part of the journey.

At the same time, life is getting even crazier because my wife is due to give birth to our first child in about a week. So apparently I decided to finish one three year project right before beginning the biggest project of my life.

For those of you who have been through the querying process, what advice would you give someone starting for the first time?

And honestly, I could probably use a little morale boost too. After spending three years with this story, hitting “send” on that first query somehow feels more intimidating than writing the book itself.

I’d really love to hear from fellow writers who have been through this stage what you learned, what you wish you knew beforehand, or even just how you kept yourself going through the waiting and rejection.