Are you ready to tell your story?

Or are you just going to keep it bottled up inside forever?

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Surviving the Novel
stands on three legs

Surviving the Novel is a blog with the goal of encouraging, inspiring, and giving direction to struggling storytellers, with the purpose of helping them to tell their story.

Through this site you’ll get the things you need to be the awesome writer that you want to be, and tell the story you daydream about when you should be working.

Whether that comes in the form of encouragement to push through the tough times, inspiration to break up some writer’s block, or a simple push in the right direction.

I’m here for you. To get you telling your story, and to keep you writing.

Want access to my secret stash?

How would you like to get a hold of Surviving the Novel's secret stash? I'm giving this stuff out for free, but only to the people who join the mailing list!


What's in the stash!? Check the back to find out.

The secret stash is, in a word—awesome.

It's a collection of guides, checklists, prompts, ebooks, blueprints, and crash courses—all of which are designed to help you become a better writer and storyteller—and none of which you can get anywhere else!

Great! I would like awesome in my inbox please.
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other writers

What you should know about

Surviving the Novel

Surviving the Novel is a blog with the goal of encouraging, inspiring, and giving direction to struggling storytellers, with the purpose of helping them to tell their story.

Through this site you’ll get the things you need to be the awesome writer that you want to be, and tell the story you daydream about when you should be working.

Whether that comes in the form of encouragement to push through the tough times, inspiration to break up some writer’s block, or a simple push in the right direction.

You’ll get what you need to start telling your story, and keep writing.

Want access to my secret stash?

How would you like to get a hold of Surviving the Novel's secret stash? I'm giving this stuff out for free, but only to the people who join the mailing list!


What's in the stash!? Check the back to find out.

The secret stash is, in a word—awesome.

It's a collection of guides, checklists, prompts, ebooks, blueprints, and crash courses—all of which are designed to help you become a better writer and storyteller—and none of which you can get anywhere else!

Great! I would like awesome in my inbox please.
Join
0
other writers

Here are some samples from the Library

Until Next Time, Dear Intruder—short story

Business and responsibility: the two things that had been running through my head all night. They were the two things that kept me cooped up in my office way past hours. Honestly, I shouldn’t have even been here, not at this ungodly hour—but business and responsibility kept me much later than they usually did.

It was well past four in the morning by the time I had finished my work. I was asleep on my feet as I left my office and made my way to the front of the theater, thinking I would have to grab some cheap coffee or something for the drive home. I never made it out the door though, because that’s when I first noticed her.

One of the smaller doors near the rear of the main auditorium was slightly ajar, and as I walked passed I heard the faint sound of a violin coming from the darkness within. At first I thought I was just hearing things, because who else would still be here? But the longer I listened the stronger the sound of the violin became and soon convinced me that I indeed wasn’t alone in this old theater.

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The Road Home—poetry

I travel down this road alone, driving home on my own, and pass by the roads I’ve never known on this set course I know as my own. Which leads passed places I’ve never roamed and faces I’ve never seen, belonging to voices I’ve never met and people I’ve never heard, that all live lives more alive than I.

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Moment—poetry

Sometimes I live for the future,
sometimes I long for the past.
But when I live within the moment,
true beauty’s within my grasp

A feeling of perpetual loneliness,
and pain the past may bring.
Old memories of times now lost…

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Music Worth Dancing To—short story

“No. NO! This can not be happening!” On top of everything else, how can he get a flat tire here? “We’re in the middle of the desert. There’s nothing but sand and scrub for miles, what could I have possibly run over?” He knew she wouldn’t answer—neither of them had said a word for the last three hours—but that didn’t stop him from glaring at her as he pulled over. This had to be her fault, somehow. He was sure of it.

She was leaning heavily against her window, chin resting in her hand, the corners of her mouth turned decidedly down as she stared out through the glass.

What has she been looking at? There’s literally nothing out there for her to see.

She probably wasn’t seeing anything through those misty eyes anyway. As he watched, another tear appeared and rolled down her cheek, with even more of her mascara streaming in it’s wake.

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