Pinned toot

"Who are we, if not our words? Who are we, if we are not allowed to tell our own stories?"
– Rachel McKibbens

If there are any reader folk who would be willing to take a survey about crowdfunding books, it would be a really big help to me!

12 general multiple-choice questions, it's quite a quick survey with no personal details asked.

Thank you! And thanks to everyone who has answered so far!

Please buy my book! It's got lesbians! It's about trauma and healing! It's about music! It's about the great lakes! It's got a happy ending!

Of interest to writers: words banished for overuse and general worthlessness by Lake Superior State University in Michigan.

You can comment and suggest if you want.

I was looking for and I found this awesome CC-BY-SA-NC piece by David Revoy:

(thanks to <CalimeroTeknik> for showing me that!)

A criticism I’ve heard of some fiction is that a lot is about small communities, which can make things feel a bit quiet and isolated.

So of course, I’m trying to write an epic space opera with giant spaceships and multiple protagonists...

For all the solarpunk fiction writers - call for submissions for a #solarpunk anthology - - help spread the word! #fiction

I have been destroyed
over and over
so many times

I am exhausted
with rebuilding myself
again and again

Let the plants
take me over

Let trees grow
from my scars

Let flowers
decorate the remains
of what I once was

Don’t let me be a ruin
but instead, let me be
a forest


“So you're telling me they use one of the most toxic substances on the planet for this?”


“And they... inject it into their faces? Really?”

“Only a small group of them do this. But yes.”


"It seems to be an attempt to make themselves more attractive to potential mating partners."

The lead scientist stood silently for a moment, deeply confused. “Let’s visit another species instead,” she said finally. “Humans are weird.”

🤔 Has anyone proposed a #dystopian #cyberpunk setting where #AOL disks are used as currency? You pay with however many hours of online time you have?


The ancient abomination woke from its dreamless sleep, swam to the the shore and walked to the nearest town.
"You," it roared at a terrified dog-walker, "what year is it?"
"Uh. 2018."
"Still? It's been ages," the abomination grumbled. "I'll be back when I can make a difference."
#MicroFiction #TootFic #SmallStories

An empty avenue with only streetlights for company. A gust of icy winter wind.

Slap! A wind thrown piece of paper hit her leg. She looked at it as it fell to the floor. A flyer from a local bar, reading, ‘what are you waiting for?’

Looking back up, she saw an advert on the side of a bus shelter. A bright slogan, ‘There's no time like the present!’

She sighed, took out her phone, and typed out a text message with cold numbed fingers. “I really miss you.”

“All the bombs are deployed?”

“Every last one,” she held up an empty sack made of coarse canvas.

“Excellent work. Now, everyone clear the area.”

“How long do we have until they go off?”

“About 4-6 months. People are going to be so surprised when they see all those flowers blooming in a place like this.”

💣 🌱

She brought him the usual gifts at first. A mouse, a bird. A ribbon for him to play with.

She would run up with her gift in her mouth and prrt cheerfully around it. And he would pat her head and tell her she was a good and clever cat.

Then it was a coin with strange markings. A pendant, warm to the touch. A piece of lightning-struck wood.

He never knew of the shadowy figures that followed him, but neither did he have to fear them.

She was a good and clever cat.

#Microfiction #Tootfic

Also, #solarpunk should examine not only physical, material technologies, but sustainable cultural and emotional technologies

In other words, I don't think #solarpunk writing should focus only on how we're going to survive the future, but WHY we should.

I think #solarpunk writing, like a lot of sci-fi, isn't made special by the technologies it believes in, but by the people it believes in. That is, by an ideology of hope, a fond glance toward the future.

Sometimes, I don't remember any more of last night's dreams than the fact that they happened. Then, during the day, I'll have the faintest flickering of memory. I'll feel a sensation or an emotion, deep enough to immerse myself in, but faint and indescribable. A glimmer of an experience, somewhere on the edge of my perception. Then it'll be gone.

There’s a certain atmosphere when taking a train at night, to a station away from the central city.

That atmosphere is not shared by the bus.

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