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savdoesbooks.bsky.social
savdoesbooks
@savdoesbooks.bsky.social
540 followers 990 following 120 posts
Mother, Lover, Dreamer.
BA-Haver, Grad Student, Reformed Dropkick.
Querying: FOREIGN BODIES.
WIP: HABEAS CORPUS.
Gritty spec-fic writer, it's cathartic.
Protect literature. Write ban-worthy books.
This page is LGBTQIA2S+ friendly.
Free Palestine
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savdoesbooks.bsky.social
From 'Habeas Corpus,' my #wip and soon #amquerying YA Crossover (maybe NA?) SFF/mystery/dark academia manuscript. I'm excited about this one! I can't believe I'd never written a whole book until 6 months ago lol. Now I've finished two!

#WIPSnips #WritingPrompts #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #BookSky
January 17, 2026 at 2:10 PM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
Waiting for full request responses is an exercise in the patience I don't have... AND I should be polishing my next book, oopsie. But this is from my #amquerying YA crossover sci-fi, Foreign Bodies.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #BookSky
January 17, 2026 at 1:58 PM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
Hey! What the heck, that's me! Y'all, I can't stress enough how good this resource is. If you're on the fence or outside of the American market like I am here in Aus, I really recommend signing up. Invaluable info + industry insight for a low cost. #BookSky
manuscriptacademy.bsky.social Manuscript Academy @manuscriptacademy.bsky.social · Nov 5
Agent & Editor Meetings go live TODAY at 3pm ET for members, and Friday at 3pm ET for non-members.

We have a really fun month of events! Check them out here: manuscriptacademy.com/calendar

And we got so many lovely notes for last month! One of our favorites, below. 😃
January 17, 2026 at 1:33 PM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
I'm all the way in Aus & these clowns playing dress-up in Amazon uniforms make me sick. Why would anyone comply with a barking, masked stranger with no warrant & their hand on a gun? Be strong, American pals. Pls link me to any crowdfunding, would love to donate.

#AbolishICE #RemoveTrump
Four images at top of graphic featuring (from left to right): Image One: 3 masked vigilantes cosplaying the police in mismatched uniforms - One wears grey sweatpants, a short-sleeved dark shirt and black vest. One wears khaki green pants, blue long-sleeved shirt, and black vest. One wears blue denim jeans, a camo tactical vest, and khaki mask. All vests are different styles. Image Two: Is of a single wannabe law enforcement agent. He wears a green long sleeved shirt, green khaki vest, green khaki pants and a black balaclava, obscuring his facial features. Image 3: Features two Boys who are Very Proud to be suckling Trump's teat, they don't hide their faces! One man is wearing a grey long sleeve shirt, light blue denim jeans, and a large tactical vest in brown and kahki. He wears a backwards cap and sunglasses. The second man in the image wears a forward facing cap, a dark blue denim long sleeve and dark blue denim long pants. He wears the same brown and khaki vest as his little buddy. The image horizontally displayed at the bottom of the graphic shows a group of people who look as if they belong in a gym advertisement for a retirement community. They wear incredibly mismached uniforms in different colours, vests with zero cohesion or consistent branding, and hold guns of varying lengs. Text at the bottom of the graphic reads: ICE UNIFORM: jeans or camo pants? your choice. t-shirt? any colour. Tactical vest? sure - any colour or brand. Just get it off Amazon. Be sure to grab an 'ICE' and 'POLICE' patch too while you're on there. Guns? Yes - whatever you have and are comfortable with - long gun? Handgun? Either is fine. Total cost? Under $200. Anyone can be an ICE agent. Anyone.
January 16, 2026 at 3:53 PM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
From #amquerying YA Crossover SciFi. I use the word brain 12 times. 5 full rejections, all great. 3 req'd other work. Too 'risky' for a debut (political)? Not my fault the oligarchy's putting... nvm. The future is not bright! TW on first slide-injuries.
#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #BookSky 📚💙 💙🪐
Screenshot from user's manuscript. Black text on white background reads: “Androids,” the nurse responds. Both exactly what I feared, and what I already know from the state of him. I want to move. To help. My hands don’t listen. Through the mayhem, and the blood, and the mess of bodies, someone is on the floor beside Roland. Nobody is working on them, which only tells me one thing. It’s impossible to tell who it might be, because even though someone has tried to place a sheet over them, it’s shifted. Their face has crushed into their skull so badly that they’re little more than a mess of brain matter and fragmented bone. One, two, three, four, five, six. Eleven people went out this morning. Six people remain. I count again. The number doesn’t change, but I’m starting to figure out who’s missing; so I try to focus on anything else. I look at the ceiling. But blood-spatter freckles its textured surface. Screenshot from user's manuscript. Black text on white background reads: “You have a lovely house,” I say, dialling up the sweetness in my tone. “Oh, it’s nothing compared to some of them,” she says with nonchalance. I nearly laugh. Her house is enormous, compared to the ones in the Sticks. “I set you up in my bed again. The least I could do.” “That’s nice of you,” I nod towards the mug I hold. “Thanks for the coffee.” “Oh, it’s really nothing.” She pauses, only moving to bring her knees to her chest. “If I caused any problems last night, I didn’t mean to. I forget to think before I speak, and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything afterwards. My brain gets all salad, from a hard day of work.” I know she’s serious, but I hold back a smirk because the faster she talks, the higher her voice pitches. “All salad?” I laugh. “You know, mixed up,” she says. “Don’t even worry. Tejas was just being dramatic.” “How long have you two been together?” Kirra’s question makes me to spit coffee over my lap. She seems to understand and leans back to dab at my leg with her sleeve. “Oh, you’re not? I thought someone said…” “No. We’re just friends,” I admit, but it feels wrong. I’m unsure if this is the case. Really, we are more than friends but less than lovers, but I’m not even sure if I know who he really is. Not like I thought. I don’t know what that makes us.
January 16, 2026 at 2:08 PM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
I'm not 'anti-ai.' I'm pro 'assistive' AI. It's halving research time, assisting in medical breakthroughs, enhancing communication & removing barriers for many. There's no putting it back in the box, but it's our place as creatives to ensure it knows its place in the metaphorical garage.

#BookSky
January 15, 2026 at 7:11 AM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
i'm literally so done w not calling out obvious ai
to other scifi and spec authors: using the very thing we are supposed to be critiquing will never not reek of laziness.
i want ai to see for the blind and cure cancer, i don't need regurgitated slop parcelled as art or literature

#BookSky 💙📚 🪐💙
January 15, 2026 at 6:03 AM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
From my #WIP and nearly #amquerying ready YA crossover (potentially new adult?) SFF manuscript, Habeas Corpus. #WIPSnips #WritingCommunity 🪐📚 💙📚
White background with black text. Screenshot from user's manuscript. Text reads: My body shudders involuntarily at the mention of Byron's name. "You think they suspect someone else?" I ask—but what I really mean is that I hope it’s not me. "After what we saw in that memory?” Mars says. “Surely someone out there had to have noticed him talking to…” “Whatever it was?” Mars says. From the front of the room, a loud cackle room draws our attention. Cembra sits in the first row, and she isn’t hiding the fact she’s looking right at us as she laughs, which Mars apparently takes personally. He plucks a pen from the table and flicks it towards them. But Cembra lifts a hand, and it stops in midair to drop, bouncing off the head of a boy from Validus I don’t recognise. He spins around, eyes narrowing. "That you, Bertrand?" the boy hisses at Mars. “Wasn’t me, mate. Take it up with her,” Mars points to Cembra and grins, all teeth. Then, he turns to address her. “Thought you'd catch it with your reflexes. Isn't that your thing?" Cembra’s mouth drops open, stunned. Vittoria whips her head around, opening her mouth to shout. Elm’s already interrupting. "Students, please," the professor says. “Now, if we’re ready to begin—" “Respectfully, ma’am,” Cembra's voice is sweet like honey, but cuts through the classroom like a knife as she stands. Crossing her arms tightly over her chest, she turns around to address us. "I think I speak for everyone when I say we want answers.” The room responds with affirming cheers. “W-well,” Elm stutters, pushing her glasses up to the bridge of her nose. “Look, I understand why you might be concerned.” “You tell us the Asterism is all knowing,” says Cembra, continuing as if Elm hadn’t said a word, “yet nobody saw this coming? That’s what I find hard to believe.”
January 14, 2026 at 5:53 AM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
From my #amquerying crossover YA sci-fi manuscript, Foreign Bodies :-) surprised at how many of these #WIPSnips words I have used hahaha #WritingCommunity #Booksky 💙📚 📚🪐
A screenshot from user's manuscript. Black text on white background reads: I can’t imagine how this is going to work. Kirra said we will have three seconds, but that doesn’t seem like enough time to fight our way through the horde of people here, hoping for a miracle. “Get ready to stick the landing,” Tejas says quietly from behind me, “it’ll be any second now.” We shuffle forward, and I fight the urge to tug my clothing over my mouth and nose to ward off the lingering scent of faeces and rotting flesh, but I act like it doesn’t bother me. Instead, I stand tall, straightening my shoulders. “You ready?” Nero whispers. I hadn’t realised he was walking beside me because of the crowd here, but he’s taken the place between me and the pawing hands of the desperate sewer-people. Someone grabs at my face with a wet hand. Reflexively, he shoves their arm away. “Thanks,” I say. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
January 14, 2026 at 5:46 AM
Reposted by savdoesbooks
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
Foreign Bodies is Black Mirror x The Last of Us, where a teenage scavenger living under an electricity ban finds a wounded stranger beyond her city’s walls—only to discover he was created to kill the last of her family. This took me... So long. Why.
#BluePit📖 #YA #NA #SF #SP #Q #OV #DIS #ND
A multilayered collage showcasing a green and blue collection of images representative of a dystopian landscape. Top Right: A couple kissing in front of a red glow. Top Middle: Plans from the game TLOU. Top Right: A protest. Bottom Left: Still from the game TLOU with Ellie, the young, female, brown haired protagonist, overlooking a city. Bottom Left: A bush landscape with a sign hammered into a tree. It reads 'KEEP OUT'. Text Displayed on page in red writing reads: FOREIGN BODIES, complete at 91k SCI-FI thriller DYSTOPIAN AUSTRALIAN SETTING YA CROSSOVER The background is a collage of cityscapes in blues and greens, giving a moody, dystopian, science fiction feel. The images are hardly visible behind a white text box. The text is dark brown, and reads: Sixteen-year-old Lark believes she's learned everything about the forbidden wilderness beyond Cobalt's city borders since her father's death five years ago—until she rescues a wounded boy in the bushland who heals too quickly and knows only the name branded into his skin, Nero. When her uncle Roland disappears, Lark's search for him forces her past the concrete barrier of the inner city and reveals more than the glittering lives of the wealthy. Here, the Power Edict—the law that keeps her sector in darkness—doesn't apply. And the exiled 'androids' roaming the Wilds aren't mechanical relics of the past at all, but bioengineered humans, created and released as tools of control. The image background is a collage of images in reds and oranges, featuring fire, protest, and cyber-type text. The images are barely visible behind a white text box. The text is in dark brown and reads: When they find Roland, he's in a part-metal body, and staging a public demonstration of the government's newest technology: engineered children, created for violence and forced to fight for public spectacle. Lark finally understands Nero's origins. Worse still, her closest friend, Tejas, has been hiding a devastating truth about their journey all along. Lark's father is alive, but saving him risks her uncle's secret rebellion to end the regime. This decision forces her to stand between two boys she trusts in different ways: Tejas, her anchor through every loss, and Nero, the boy she's sworn to protect, who was created with a single directive: Kill Roland. But each decision comes with its own set of consequences—because in the city of Cobalt, sometimes the enemy looks like your family. Screenshot of users manuscript over collage background, barely visible behind the yellow text box. Text reads: In my head, I’m counting. A fingertip taps my thigh. Something I’ve done in moments of anxiety since I was small. One, two, three, four. Four walls fractured and creaking. Rattling with each breath of the wind. One. One tin roof corroded and decaying. One, two, three, four… Too many tendrils of weeds reaching through an aperture to cling to the ceiling’s internal surface. The sound of birds calling overhead shatters the tranquillity. Three shrill calls. Each is louder than the last, echoing in warning. I breathe in deep, digging my nails into the palms of my hands. Softly, not enough to draw blood. Just enough for the familiar sting to anchor my rising panic. Though the sprawling vines mute the bird’s call, I know they feel the shift, too. I don’t dare to speak or move. Instead, my muscles burn as I crouch in the corner that I’ve tucked myself into. Concentrating, I close my eyes. Wind whistling through the eucalypts. The distant rumble of a tractor. A crackling drone of distant insects. I can’t hear anything else. I can’t see anything either, but I will stay as still as long as the birds continue to call. The birds never lie.
January 13, 2026 at 3:16 PM
Reposted by savdoesbooks
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
My almost query-ready WIP is:

HABEAS CORPUS

Not quite 'super' heroes.

VIBES: SALTBURN, PARASYTE: THE MAXIM, INVINCIBLE, THE BOYS

COMPS: THE ATLAS SIX, NINTH HOUSE + THE SECRET HISTORY

I love this one. So excited to be in final edits!

#BluePit📖 #YA #NA #SF #SP #W #OV #DIS #ND #BluePit
A collage of dark images including stills from superheros in movies and television, the movie Saltburn. The images are hidden under a grain for background effect and mood. Text in the middle is cream-coloured on a red background and reads: What if ‘power’ was an alien parasite that decided the world’s elite—and its rival fed on the hubris of past hosts? Collage of images showing a dark academia setting, creating a moody and atmospheric feeling relevant to the texts setting. Cream-coloured text on red backgorund is featured in the centre, and reads: When seventeen-year-old Atalanta Thane is infected by the parasite that selects the world’s leaders, she’s sent to the elite Providence College to be trained as part of the next generations leadership. But the core of the utopian world they live in is rotting, and it’s clear that this year, hosts weren’t chosen for their academic excellence or legacy. They were chosen because their damage makes them dangerous—and in a world built on the inherited power of a select few, being broken might just dismantle the system that once made the elite untouchable. Screenshot from the first page of user's manuscript, Habeas Corpus. It reads: My joints lit up red this morning. At first, a violet flicker at my wrist. Then a pulsing maroon pool. A bruise, but was it a warning? Or am I a target? It faded, and I told no-one—not that anyone would listen. Instead, I went to school like nothing had happened; tugged down the long sleeves of my undershirt to bunch the fabric beneath my thumbs. Since Alba died, I’m always silent. I’ve become known as trouble enough. All day, I waited for the red to return. It didn’t—not when I walked the green seams between the rows of metallic buildings, and not while I watched the river swallow the orange sun, hinting its farewell on the horizon. As the evening wore on, I’d started to believe I’d never been red, at all. But there’s no mistaking the glow now as I lie motionless in bed, aware of a presence and accompanied by a pounding in my skull. Something is here, I know it. Even if I can’t see it. Rubbing my eyes with the palms of my fists, I hold a hand over my right eye, trying to see through the left. I don’t know why I expect my injured eye to work now, of all times. But I’m sure my vision is affecting me as my mind conjures the image of a slug-like shadow, imbued with a pinprick of light, inching across the floor of my room. Staring at the thing, I squint. In the low light, I trace its slick trail to the corner of my window. It’s cracked open, just a touch. Strange. I thought I’d closed it. I try to move. My body only jolts. The pill bottle beside me clatters to the floor and when I look towards it, my neck creaks like a mannequin’s. My mouth hangs ajar like a ventriloquist’s doll. Why can’t I move? Why can’t I scream? It gets harder as the headache grows stronger. With every slow movement of the shadow towards me, I feel it from the inside out. Measured and metronomic, it’s like the dull throb of a heavy-beating heart. Too heavy to be human, it does not belong to me.
January 13, 2026 at 6:08 PM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
My almost query-ready WIP is:

HABEAS CORPUS

Not quite 'super' heroes.

VIBES: SALTBURN, PARASYTE: THE MAXIM, INVINCIBLE, THE BOYS

COMPS: THE ATLAS SIX, NINTH HOUSE + THE SECRET HISTORY

I love this one. So excited to be in final edits!

#BluePit📖 #YA #NA #SF #SP #W #OV #DIS #ND #BluePit
A collage of dark images including stills from superheros in movies and television, the movie Saltburn. The images are hidden under a grain for background effect and mood. Text in the middle is cream-coloured on a red background and reads: What if ‘power’ was an alien parasite that decided the world’s elite—and its rival fed on the hubris of past hosts? Collage of images showing a dark academia setting, creating a moody and atmospheric feeling relevant to the texts setting. Cream-coloured text on red backgorund is featured in the centre, and reads: When seventeen-year-old Atalanta Thane is infected by the parasite that selects the world’s leaders, she’s sent to the elite Providence College to be trained as part of the next generations leadership. But the core of the utopian world they live in is rotting, and it’s clear that this year, hosts weren’t chosen for their academic excellence or legacy. They were chosen because their damage makes them dangerous—and in a world built on the inherited power of a select few, being broken might just dismantle the system that once made the elite untouchable. Screenshot from the first page of user's manuscript, Habeas Corpus. It reads: My joints lit up red this morning. At first, a violet flicker at my wrist. Then a pulsing maroon pool. A bruise, but was it a warning? Or am I a target? It faded, and I told no-one—not that anyone would listen. Instead, I went to school like nothing had happened; tugged down the long sleeves of my undershirt to bunch the fabric beneath my thumbs. Since Alba died, I’m always silent. I’ve become known as trouble enough. All day, I waited for the red to return. It didn’t—not when I walked the green seams between the rows of metallic buildings, and not while I watched the river swallow the orange sun, hinting its farewell on the horizon. As the evening wore on, I’d started to believe I’d never been red, at all. But there’s no mistaking the glow now as I lie motionless in bed, aware of a presence and accompanied by a pounding in my skull. Something is here, I know it. Even if I can’t see it. Rubbing my eyes with the palms of my fists, I hold a hand over my right eye, trying to see through the left. I don’t know why I expect my injured eye to work now, of all times. But I’m sure my vision is affecting me as my mind conjures the image of a slug-like shadow, imbued with a pinprick of light, inching across the floor of my room. Staring at the thing, I squint. In the low light, I trace its slick trail to the corner of my window. It’s cracked open, just a touch. Strange. I thought I’d closed it. I try to move. My body only jolts. The pill bottle beside me clatters to the floor and when I look towards it, my neck creaks like a mannequin’s. My mouth hangs ajar like a ventriloquist’s doll. Why can’t I move? Why can’t I scream? It gets harder as the headache grows stronger. With every slow movement of the shadow towards me, I feel it from the inside out. Measured and metronomic, it’s like the dull throb of a heavy-beating heart. Too heavy to be human, it does not belong to me.
January 13, 2026 at 6:08 PM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
Foreign Bodies is Black Mirror x The Last of Us, where a teenage scavenger living under an electricity ban finds a wounded stranger beyond her city’s walls—only to discover he was created to kill the last of her family. This took me... So long. Why.
#BluePit📖 #YA #NA #SF #SP #Q #OV #DIS #ND
A multilayered collage showcasing a green and blue collection of images representative of a dystopian landscape. Top Right: A couple kissing in front of a red glow. Top Middle: Plans from the game TLOU. Top Right: A protest. Bottom Left: Still from the game TLOU with Ellie, the young, female, brown haired protagonist, overlooking a city. Bottom Left: A bush landscape with a sign hammered into a tree. It reads 'KEEP OUT'. Text Displayed on page in red writing reads: FOREIGN BODIES, complete at 91k SCI-FI thriller DYSTOPIAN AUSTRALIAN SETTING YA CROSSOVER The background is a collage of cityscapes in blues and greens, giving a moody, dystopian, science fiction feel. The images are hardly visible behind a white text box. The text is dark brown, and reads: Sixteen-year-old Lark believes she's learned everything about the forbidden wilderness beyond Cobalt's city borders since her father's death five years ago—until she rescues a wounded boy in the bushland who heals too quickly and knows only the name branded into his skin, Nero. When her uncle Roland disappears, Lark's search for him forces her past the concrete barrier of the inner city and reveals more than the glittering lives of the wealthy. Here, the Power Edict—the law that keeps her sector in darkness—doesn't apply. And the exiled 'androids' roaming the Wilds aren't mechanical relics of the past at all, but bioengineered humans, created and released as tools of control. The image background is a collage of images in reds and oranges, featuring fire, protest, and cyber-type text. The images are barely visible behind a white text box. The text is in dark brown and reads: When they find Roland, he's in a part-metal body, and staging a public demonstration of the government's newest technology: engineered children, created for violence and forced to fight for public spectacle. Lark finally understands Nero's origins. Worse still, her closest friend, Tejas, has been hiding a devastating truth about their journey all along. Lark's father is alive, but saving him risks her uncle's secret rebellion to end the regime. This decision forces her to stand between two boys she trusts in different ways: Tejas, her anchor through every loss, and Nero, the boy she's sworn to protect, who was created with a single directive: Kill Roland. But each decision comes with its own set of consequences—because in the city of Cobalt, sometimes the enemy looks like your family. Screenshot of users manuscript over collage background, barely visible behind the yellow text box. Text reads: In my head, I’m counting. A fingertip taps my thigh. Something I’ve done in moments of anxiety since I was small. One, two, three, four. Four walls fractured and creaking. Rattling with each breath of the wind. One. One tin roof corroded and decaying. One, two, three, four… Too many tendrils of weeds reaching through an aperture to cling to the ceiling’s internal surface. The sound of birds calling overhead shatters the tranquillity. Three shrill calls. Each is louder than the last, echoing in warning. I breathe in deep, digging my nails into the palms of my hands. Softly, not enough to draw blood. Just enough for the familiar sting to anchor my rising panic. Though the sprawling vines mute the bird’s call, I know they feel the shift, too. I don’t dare to speak or move. Instead, my muscles burn as I crouch in the corner that I’ve tucked myself into. Concentrating, I close my eyes. Wind whistling through the eucalypts. The distant rumble of a tractor. A crackling drone of distant insects. I can’t hear anything else. I can’t see anything either, but I will stay as still as long as the birds continue to call. The birds never lie.
January 13, 2026 at 3:16 PM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
2025 has been a year. I finished my BA, was accepted into my Master's program for next year, and had a mentorship with a talented author. But it's been full of loss, too. Look after yourselves and one another. Too many funerals, not enough life lived.
DV HELPLINE AUS: 1800RESPECT
LIFELINE: 13 11 14
December 31, 2025 at 2:31 AM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
Ooooh a lil worldbuilding. Both taken from my #amquerying #YA #SciFi manuscript, Foreign Bodies. One from the first arc and one from the third... OoooOooO #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity 📚🪐📚💙
Screenshot from users manuscript. Black text on white backgrounf reads: Row upon row of tall buildings stretch deep into the sky, extending for what seems like years before us, much further in distance than I’d ever dare to venture into the Wilds. They glint the slightest hint of the dim moonlight off their chrome surfaces, but the glow of fluorescent yellow and pink ricocheting off the glass windows against one another shines even brighter. Tall lampposts, woven through the uniform streets like a thread formed of steel and glitter, brightly glare down on us from a star littered sky. It is a hypnotic sea of colour, and the lights don’t flicker here. Not like the light we sometimes get at home. Screenshot of authors manuscript, black text on white background reads: It feels like time has bent backwards, because everything outside is alien. The train clatters on, smooth and sterile. The landscape is far removed from everything I’ve ever known. There are no tall eucalypts here. No thick, dense bush. Instead, we travel over a deep red-rock gorge, a ribbon of water threading through its curves, glimmering in the near-set sun. Here, the sky has no pollution. It’s clear and endless—how it looked in the city. And then I see them.
December 28, 2025 at 2:06 PM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
Making it very clear that I stand with Australia's Jewish population, but also our Muslim population and Immigrant population. Fighting an act of Antisemitism with Islamophobic vitriol makes you just as bad as someone with any racist perspective. You can be anti-war and pro-people at the same time.
December 15, 2025 at 3:20 AM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
Two from my #amquerying YA crossover sci-fi, Foreign Bodies... very strange out of context lollll #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WIPSnips #booksky 💙📚📚🪐💙
Black text on a white background from the user's manuscript. Reads: “So, how are you?” he asks. “How do you think?” “Well, I’d say not good. Judging by the…” Nero pauses, then gestures to the cluttered glassware before me. “But it’s hard to tell exactly how not good it all went.” “Wrong. It was fine.” “It’s not my first day on Earth,” he responds, reaching forwards to rattle the empty bottle on the table, “at least, I don’t think it is.” “I suppose you could say it’s your second.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. When I yawn, I’m sure I see the corners of his mouth twitch into the semblance of a smile. “I’ll keep the fire going. Sleep well, Lark.” I don’t respond, and I don’t sleep well, if I manage to at all. Every time I manage it, I’m disturbed by the sensation of dropping twenty feet into a nightmare. Only it’s not the terrors I’m used to. Instead, each time, I’m drowned by strange, wet creatures. Screenshot from user's manuscript, black text on white background reads: “Did Ramona tell you about this afternoon?” I hope she’s explained the plans, so I don’t have to. Honestly, I don’t remember them. “Sure did.” “Be safe,” I say. “I can’t lose you, too.” “That’s how I feel,” he kicks at the empty bottle with the tip of his boot, “about you.” There it is again—the guilt. I couldn’t find the words to explain myself if I tried. “We could take away their power, you know.” “You make it sound like the easiest thing in the world,” I say. “Yeah.” “That’s not an answer.” “I guess I don’t have one,” he replies, his tone suddenly serious. Something in me wants to entertain the thought. Maybe Tejas is right, and we could change it all. Take it back, and take hold of this blue-skied, white-cloud world for ourselves. But it’s not real, and it doesn’t feel real, and I’m not sure that’s even what I want.
December 7, 2025 at 2:06 PM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
#sunriseonthereaping movie trailer is out, huge day for gen z cusp #dystopian fans (me) (someone read my #amquerying dystopian manuscript) #thehungergames #booksky
November 20, 2025 at 2:40 PM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
Does anyone have any good links to articles/videos on anything related to writing in the mystery genre? My latest YA manuscript is most def sci fi but I'm thinking also def mystery. Now I'm editing I want to know if I'm hitting the genre beats to query it as such! #WriteSky #amquerying 💙📚🪐📚 #booksky
November 20, 2025 at 3:09 AM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
So surprised I have this! From my #amquerying YA sff 'Foreign Bodies'. This is one of my favs. It's a lil spoiler, but hey, judging by how almost every agent who's read it has requested something more marketable first (yay?) it's a while away :'-) #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #booksky 🪐📚💙
Screenshot from user's manuscript. Black times new roman text on white background. It reads: “Do you think you’re human still?” “Yes,” he says, without hesitation. “I suppose he is, too. But it was different.” I look down to rub a thumb absently over the palm of my hand, scraping a fingernail at the dried blood. “Do you ever feel yourself… Fighting? To stay attached?” “Attached?” Nero echoes. “To your feelings,” I say. “To the human side.” “No,” he says. “Not once. It’s the only part of me I know I have.” “Do you miss it? Who you were?” After this, I pause. Nero leans against the wall beside me. “I don’t think I’m like Roland,” he mutters. “Not in that way, at least. I don’t have anything left like that to remember.” “Then what could you possibly have to compare it to?” I’m sure my voice is barely audible. “What, being human? Everything in the world,” he admits. I’m sure his hand twitches as if to reach for mine, but he pulls it back. Instead, he looks at me with an intensity that makes me feel as if he’s trying to burn his truth into my skin. “The sky. The sun. The fire in my stomach. That’s how I know it’s all real.” “What do you know about the world?” I scoff. “Like I tried to tell you, it’s not my first day on Earth,” he says. “I want to find my dad,” I whisper. My voice sounds like my own, ten years ago. “Then that’s what we need to do.” I drop my gaze to the floor. There it is, again. The retrograde sort of grief I’d tried to bury. The word 'retrograde' is highlighted in yellow.
November 19, 2025 at 2:58 AM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
#WIPSnips From my #amquerying YA sci-fi thriller, Foreign Bodies. Fun one... Couldn't choose between them! :-) #booksky #writesky #writingcommunity
Screenshot from user's manuscript. It reads in black font on white background: '“Can I see it? The scar?” I ask. When he nods, I take a few tentative steps forward to get a closer look, because it’s not just his neck. The even lines decorate the entirety of his back, as if somebody has gutted him like a pig for market and sewn him together again. My mind flashes back to my week of work in the butcher’s shop, and I reach out tentatively with a finger, expecting to find a raised surface. Instead, I’m surprised by the absence of a scar. There’s no divot in the skin, not a crease or wrinkle. It’s a seamless, clean line, so precisely stitched you couldn’t dream of it out here. My body goes numb as I pull my finger up the line on his spine. It meets the circle at the base of his skull. There, in tiny letters, is a word etched into his skin in a white, well-healed scar.' Screenshot from users manuscript. "Some of these people look like they’ve been here for weeks. Some, years, judging by the pallor of their skin. Like they have been stuck here below the ground in some kind of sick purgatory between their world and ours. I wonder if they can’t leave, in fear of what might happen when they reach the surface, or whether they know what is waiting for them when they do."
November 15, 2025 at 6:36 AM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
from my #amquerying YA SFF "Foreign Bodies." If someone wants to pick it up that doesn't want to make it NA romance-dystopia (romastopia? spicetopia?) pls let me know bc turning down an offer of rep after a call is NOT what i expected to do :'-) #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #BookSky
Image of screenshot from the user's manuscript. Black text on white background reads "I even admire the way the sun glitters off the rows of buildings here. It’s the only thing that feels almost familiar, even if it doesn’t burn my skin like at home. Even the potted plants and the crawling vines planted evenly through the streets look artificial, too perfectly green amongst the grey. They’re probably fake, I think, and I remind myself to check the next time we pass by one again. If it weren’t for the dome, it would have been so obvious what was waiting here for us. These buildings would have stood tall above the wall, ruining everything they were trying to hide. But I know they exist, because I am trapped here, imprisoned under their false sky. “Monotonous, huh?” says Tejas. “Makes our twin houses look like the most fascinating things in the world.” “You can say that again.” " The word 'building' is highlighted in yellow block.
November 13, 2025 at 12:58 PM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
This book. No words could describe it in a way that would, at all, communicate how it made me feel. But I'll damn well try: Brilliant. Heartbreaking. Political. Thought-provoking. Intriguing. Artistic. Risky. Timely. In other words—it's very, very good. #booksky 💙📚
Cover image of 'Chain-Gang All-Stars,' written by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah. A stylised image of a red scythe or scythe-like weapon. with colourful, flame like shapes coming from the blade tip. The background is a mustard yellow colour. The title appears in black block letters lower middle of the page. A gold badge reads 'One of the New York Times 10 Best Books of the Year,' and a silver badge reads 'National Book Award Finalist'
November 12, 2025 at 1:18 PM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
a strange one, today! #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WIPSnips #booksky
Screenshot from users manuscript, the word 'shirt' is highlighted in neon yellow. Black text on white background reads, "Still, I can’t help but laugh when he tosses me a bottle of liquor, because Ada gives him a sideways glance that looks like it could split him in two. If there’s something I need right now, it’s bravery, but I also need to forget about the open sores sticking to the inside of my shirt. This will work for that plenty, so I give her a nod and swig from the bottle. She shakes her head."
November 12, 2025 at 1:11 PM
savdoesbooks.bsky.social
Someone tell David Attenborough... bc I'm coming for his gig. #Booksky #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WIPSnips
Image of a screenshot of users manuscript. Black text on white page reads: “Go on,” Nero says. When I look up, he’s watching me cautiously. “If humans could rewrite our bodies at will,” I turn my attention back to the page, “would we still be human? Or would we become something else entirely, drifting between borrowed selves?” I realise, now, the pictures on the page are this same creature, after all. It really does as the words say. It is almost indistinguishable from those it desires to replicate.
November 9, 2025 at 1:42 PM