This is for all writers. Those that want to showcase their books, creative writing, journalism, poetry, and lyrics. Any form of writing is acceptable

Make sure ya'll post links of your stories and pieces that you're proud of.

Calling all writers:
@proper @Dankmustard_Mobile @motionhue @Bushmanate @AudioConsulting @Lawdie @cm_junk

what music do you guys write to? (when you're not writing songs)

Personally I don't really have one in mine. But everytime I write it often comes out as Hip Hop /R&Bish to an extent. Idk why that is

@op

I asked Gemini AI the following:

Can you write a paragraph on clouds carrying rain nearing a village, and can you write it in the style of Cormac McCarthy's 'Blood Meridian'

This is what it came up with:

The sun, a disc of dying embers low in the western wastes, cast long, skeletal shadows from the parched adobe huts of the village. A silence, heavy and old as time itself, pressed down upon the cracked earth. Then, from the distant horizon, a slow, inexorable creep began. A tide of bruised purple clouds, bellied with the promise of violence, rolled in, obscuring the last slivers of daylight. The wind, a dry, rasping whisper, picked up, sending dust devils swirling across the barren plains. A collective stillness fell upon the villagers, their weathered faces turned upwards, eyes tracking the ominous advance. In that pregnant pause, the only sound was the rasp of the wind and the distant, low rumble of approaching thunder, a portent of the baptism of rain, or perhaps, oblivion, to come.

Are y'all worried ?

Uh yes. AI dark asf

Weird confession but I revitalized my Fiction Press and dropped a story on there. Feel free to check it out!

Story
fictionpress.com/s/3371056/1

I talk to myself a lot and recently fell in love with the way cormac mccarthy does dialogue. I've just been writing out the arguments I have in my head and its so fun. I make music but this is a different type of release.

idk if that made sense but im just purely lines that go back and forth

How would you describe his dialogue?

He almost never uses quote marks

Its like line by line, super concise

Here’s an example of what it would look like:

Hi.
Hello.
How are you?
Fine.
Just fine?

Finally I can finish my new piece:
The bust that rolls off the tongue

Interesting. Kinda seems likes an inner monlogue tbh

Posted a new chapter for Terra Firma check it out:
m.fictionpress.com/s/3371056/2

I've self published some novels on Amazon, would love to share them here if that's cool with you guys

Hell yea

Here's a little story I worked on recently, not really sure if I want to turn it into something bigger: justshortofeden.wordpress.com/2024/12/09/data-corrupts-part-1

Please let me know if you have any critiques!

I've read the 1st half and so far it's pretty good. I will read nore of it as I continue and give you my full thoughts

Any black writers here that do very short poetry or stories? Please DM

I suck at poetry but admire those who can pull it off

I got you bro

This is from deepseek AI with 'deep think' toggled on. Are you scared yet?

"Anthem for the Dry Season"

Beneath a sky stretched tight as canvas,
bare of brushstroke, absent cloud’s embrace,
we etch our prayers in dust—
each step a tremor, each breath a ghost of want.
Grandmother’s hands, cracked riverbeds,
trace maps of seasons lost to memory’s ache,
her voice a low hymn: Child, we are seeds
buried in the belly of a parched tomorrow.

The earth hums thirst.
Children kneel at windowsills,
tongues testing the air for salt or mercy,
while fathers measure horizons with squinted eyes,
counting the cost of empty cisterns,
the weight of promises deferred.
We are a chorus of bones,
singing when, when, when
into the static of a sun-stunned noon.

Yet in the marrow of our waiting,
a rumor stirs—
the scent of loam, a shiver in the wind’s dry throat,
ancestors murmuring through rustling corn,
We, too, wore patience like a second skin,
until the sky remembered its own tears.

And when it comes—
not with thunder’s boast, but the hush of a mother
kissing a fevered brow—
we rise.
Roof drums echo the heartbeat of release,
gutters gurgle hymns, children sprint
barefoot through liquid light,
their laughter a balm, a baptism.

This rain, a reckoning.
It floods the fissures of our fractured years,
quenches the root, rewrites the story.
We gather its offering in cupped palms,
knowing drought’s shadow lingers—
but here, now, the world is drenched in possible.
We are the soil, the storm, the story
that blooms after.

After the wait.
After the breaking.
After the long, loud silence—
we rise.

AI getting a bit too Spooky for me

As somebody who lives and breathes literature, I'm very much concerned

We keep getting told to adapt but the fact of the matter is the market was already saturated with aspiring writers as it was. AI getting better and better is a double edged sword.

it's so scary, i feel like half the work emails i receive are AI at this point

does anybody have some tips for just getting back into writing for fun? I haven't written seriously in many years. i write for my job a lot tho, so i know the mechanics. more looking for fun creative exercises and s***