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
Writing Beyond Your "Brand"
March 16, 2026
What's in a Name? Naming Characters, Places & Titles
February 09, 2026
From Book to Screen (And Everything in Between)
February 02, 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 May, 2024
The Stinky Healer Incense. Is it pungent, fragrant, spiced, clogging, purifying, messy, calming? It depends on who you ask. If you had asked me at fifteen years old, I would have turned a wrinkled nose up at you, pursed my lips, and shook my head while almost gagging at the well-imagined smell in my head. A realistic thick smoke would fill my nose, tinged with a slight burning. My sister loved the stuff. If I was feeling dramatic maybe I’d throw in a fake gag for extra effect. Against my will, my then roommate – my angsty, artsy, depre...
Submitted to Contest #250
"Nothing interesting ever happens to me. Ever. Trust me."He thought on it for a moment, dull expression briefly lighting up. “Oh wait, my cousin Dane got stuck between a window and a screen the other day. Yeah.” A furry leg scratches the back of his head with returned boredom. “They’re looking into if it was attempted trapping or not. So…”Michael’s teacher stills for a moment, tries to act like he’s pondering a story out of that information, then extends his feathered wing forward and grabs the framed picture on his desk, situated next to a ...
Submitted to Contest #249
The faux leather of the wheel becomes slick with her sweat. She grips tighter still, making her knuckles ache and blood crawl from the fresh stinging wounds. From the other side of the road headlights leisure toward the speeding ‘65 Ford Mustang, but the woman keeps her eyes on the envelope slanted against the front windshield, crinkled with blood – not hers, at least, not much. Sweat drips from her tight upper lip, leaving a salty kiss on her tongue that catches it in a lover’s fashion. She revels in this part. The high of the f...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
1 like
