reedsymarketplace
Assemble a team of professionals
reedsystudio
The writing app for authors
reedsylearning
Writing courses, events and memberships
reedsydiscovery
Get your book reviewed
reedsyprompts
Weekly writing prompts and contests
Writing courses, events and conferences
Upcoming events
The Bigger Picture: Writing with a Series in Mind
April 13, 2026
Book Proposals, Demystified
April 07, 2026
From Submission to Publication
March 19, 2026
Writing Beyond Your "Brand"
March 16, 2026
Learn how to succeed as a writer from the best in the business.
Every writer needs a Studio
Check out our writing app for authors!
Menu
More apps built by Reedsy
Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2024
Weekly Contest #280
“Yes, by 1910 the Germans had more or less given up trying to compete with Britain’s naval power, Mr. Forrester.” “But you’re saying they never stopped trying to find weaknesses in the Navy’s ships, am I right?” “Precisely, or all ships, to be exact. Commercial and naval vessels alike. They wanted to poke holes—pun intended—in the British fleet wherever possible. Even if that meant orchestrating accidents at sea that would cause significant embarrassment. The Kaiser wanted to diminish the British Empire figuratively and, over time, literally...
Weekly Contest #278
October 12, 1857 Somewhere near Charleston Dearest Nathaniel, It has taken me years to summon the courage to write this letter, though I fear it will do little to mend the hurt I caused you. I owe you an apology—a true, unvarnished one. That night, the night you waited for me at the crossroads, I chose not to come. It was not the world that conspired against us, Nathaniel. It was me. I’ve spent so long trying to justify my decision, to find comfort in the lie that I had no choice. But the truth is simpler and uglier: I was afraid. The days b...
Weekly Contest #277
On a misty afternoon in the hallowed Haltonshire Country Club, Sir Reginald Thistleworth eased himself into his favourite leather armchair by the roaring fire. The air was thick with the comforting scent of pipe tobacco and polished wood, mingling with the faint dampness wafting in from the gardens. Across from him, Lord Percival Wainwright, a stately figure whose silver hair gleamed even in the dim light, settled into his own chair with a slight groan, steadying himself with his silver-fox-topped cane. Outside, a steady rain drizzled over t...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email: