Amelia L Rigby | Stories, Editing, Audiobooks
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ameoddly.bsky.social
Amelia L Rigby | Stories, Editing, Audiobooks
@ameoddly.bsky.social
130 followers 200 following 49 posts
Writer of weird stuff. Dog aficionado. Lover of the eclectic.
Editor and audiobook narrator, too.
www.amelialrigby.com
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ameoddly.bsky.social
The Snarly Yow.
I considered going with a fancier, more serious name for the yows in my series, and then I remembered the Arctic (bear place) and the Antarctic (no bear place) and I was like, nah, humans are just like that.

#WriteSky #BookSky #mythology #cryptid #monster #fantasy #apocalyptic
A description of a Snarly Yow, an Appalachian Cryptid and the namesake for the yows in Under the Furious Sun.
February 10, 2026 at 11:57 PM
ameoddly.bsky.social
So many good options - here is one from the prologue.
#WIPSnips #Writesky #books #reading #fantasy #apocalyptic #adventure
As Cass, Anya, and Ferran stepped into the room, all of their eyes were drawn to the center of the far wall, where a tall and heavy metal case sat ajar, all the locks that had been sealing it now rendered useless, cut off and thrown aside. It had been all but emptied of its precious contents – a glass bottle that had only dregs in it, broken glass where another must have fallen at some point, the thick and precious liquid having spilled out – and in the center of it, a note made from thin paper and torn off one of the trader's stray notebooks. Cass stepped forward to read it, her hands beginning to shake with a barely repressed rage as she read the familiar scrawl, written out hastily with a charcoal pencil: 'A little too late'
February 10, 2026 at 2:53 PM
ameoddly.bsky.social
Outside of the Furious Sun series, which I currently have about 1200 pages written for, I also have an older series waiting on the editing table. There's about 1000 pages of this one. Written during the pandemic and a big part of my heart is with it.
#Writesky #WIPlash #writingcommunity #dystopian
“Be a good girl,” Tanith murmured, Myrah looking back at her with doleful eyes full of questions. The sounds were getting closer now, and Tanith didn't blame the livestock for their worries. She herself thought that this may be the last time she would set eyes on her companions, but she wasn't allowing herself to think too deeply about it. It did no good in moments like these – it only rooted you to the ground with overthought fears and didn't allow you to act.
February 9, 2026 at 11:31 PM
ameoddly.bsky.social
I have had such a day that I myself would drink some Grime if it might help my aching muscles.

#WIPSnips #Writesky #books #reading #writingcommunity #WIP #fantasy #apocalyptic #humor
Cass let out a breath slowly, while a few feet away a group of people, mostly men, had gathered to drink some Grime. She watched them, deciding to be quite interested in the show of it in order to avoid talking to those around her. It was a traditional liquor reserved for special occasions, supposedly as a test of strength, and an old tonic for those about to go into battle. As the saying went – 'strong enough to sprout hairs on your chest, wretched enough to knock them off again.' It was a secret recipe passed down among a select few, and Julius and Lester's father was the current favored brewer, which meant they were always included in the drinking whether they liked it or not.
February 9, 2026 at 11:18 PM
ameoddly.bsky.social
So there is definitely no #airport in my WIP, but there is a lot of flying! Those passages tend to have a lot of spoilers, though. So have a mythic origin story instead.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #books #reading #mythology #writingcommunity #fantasy
In Kestrel's Book that rested on Basia's shelf or in her hands on most days, it described how Kestrel had been found in the barren lands as a tiny child, barely able to walk. When her finders looked the filthy child over for injury, the Book said, they found that her belly was completely flat – there was no place at all to show where the cord had attached her to her mother. After much discussion and a thorough search to try and find where she had come from, during which no sign of her parents was ever found, it was decided that the child must have hatched from an egg. Helping this idea along was the birthmark on the child's back that was thought to be in the shape of a bird in flight, talons visible, and it was this way that she came to be called Kestrel.
February 8, 2026 at 3:36 PM
ameoddly.bsky.social
A #SaturdaySnippet of the prologue that will soon go out to newsletter subscribers. Undergoing a final coat of polish (speaking of compulsive).

#WriteSky #BookSky #reading #writingcommunity #fantasy #apocalyptic #WIP #books #comingsoon
“This must mean we're getting close, right?” Anya rasped in the stillness. But no sooner had she said it than a loud, distinct thump came from a floor above them. There was no mistaking it or denying it now: someone or something was up there. As Anya and Cass's faces turned upwards toward the sound, Ferran waved his light pointedly back and forth to get their attention. 'Someone is here,' Anya quickly signed to him, and his head snapped upwards to look at the dark ceiling above them too, though there was nothing to see. Cass gripped the handle of her blade a little tighter and compulsively checked her holstered pistol. Both of her companions were close behind her as she kept onward.
February 7, 2026 at 8:54 PM
ameoddly.bsky.social
Redeem.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #BookSky #reading #writingcommunity #fantasy #apocalyptic
When they finally found it, it was because they had decided to climb to the top of a nearby hill to see farther. Coming to its highest point while the wind whipped at their hair, their eyes fell on their goal at the same time: it was a tent nestled in between a few lonely trees, and not so very far from the other side of the hill they stood on. Even from their vantage, Cass could see the blackish mound of a snuffed old fire nearby. There was no one in sight, but it didn't matter to Cass just then. Her spirit lifted. The day and their little quest might be redeemed after all.
February 7, 2026 at 2:51 PM
ameoddly.bsky.social
Not 'sixth' exactly, but close enough.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #Booksky #fantasy #apocalyptic #creepy #reading #Kestrel
These drawings were old and faded in spots, too, but not nearly as old as the building itself. They were simple but clear depictions in varying paints, all obviously of the same woman with the blank face – here she was with six wings spread, flying, and here she was being lovingly embraced by flames and then, of course, standing with arms outstretched, welcoming the bullets that filled her with holes. The firing squad was represented with a lot of floating guns but no humans holding them.
February 6, 2026 at 1:40 PM
ameoddly.bsky.social
Except. Some Rustrock history in this one.

#WIPSnips #BookSky #WriteSky #writingcommunity #reading #apocalyptic
With a few exceptions and latecomers such as Cass herself and Ferran, Rustrock was comprised of the rabble from Lava Town – Cass distinctly remembered it being explained to her this way as a child, when she had thought the word 'rabble' had something to do with rocks. The rabble and the rabble's children and grandchildren, more accurately. Depending on who was asked or the mood they were in when you asked them, it might also be said that they had been the working class, the physical laborers, or the slaves. But the schism had been coming for much longer than sixty years, and when they had moved to revolt from the much larger settlement, they had done so definitively. “We took almost every single weapon,” Basia had told the children in one of her many lessons that went along with teaching them to read and write. “We took almost every single hound. Hope's Wood did not give up its workforce easily, but we made it because we out-thought them and because we had much more to fight for.”
February 5, 2026 at 3:39 PM
ameoddly.bsky.social
I love reading about mythology, and it was actually after coming across the Simurgh in Borges' Imaginary Beings when I started forming an old dream into a real story. The idea of this being that witnesses the end of the world several times over is fascinating.
#booksky #writesky #fantasy #mythology
February 5, 2026 at 4:02 AM
ameoddly.bsky.social
The promos I made for #questpit. This was so fun! Now to stop overthinking and choose a launch date.

#writesky #booksky #writingcommunity #fantasy #apocalyptic #fiction #reading #romance
February 5, 2026 at 1:59 AM
ameoddly.bsky.social
There were almost too many to choose from here.

#WIPSnips #writesky #booksky #writingcommunity #fantasy #humor #reading #apocalyptic
“Well, you see,” Hare said, taking his stretched out position in his chair again. “My head is so muddled with horseshit -” He waved his beringed fingers around his head to symbolize the mess within, “- such as deciding what pampered man-children are going to overtake the previous man-child's place in making Hope's Wood's cloth, that I just can't seem to focus on things like my own safety. I had to hire someone else for the job.” “Speaking of pampered man-children,” Aleida said, her voice cutting like an ax before she managed to lower it to her usual calmness again.
February 4, 2026 at 3:30 PM
ameoddly.bsky.social
Doing 2/3 a little early, as a treat to myself, because I have been good.
'Confident'

#WIPSnips #BookSky #WriteSky #writingcommunity #writingprompts #apocalyptic #fantasy
Harlow rolled his eyes to the heavens, sitting back on his seat and stretching out his back. With the gathering darkness making it so that he was lit only by the glow of the motorbike's lights and the lanterns around him, Harlow appeared even gaunter than he had before. There was a flicker of something else in his features too, the signs of a man who had once been strong, confident, handsome. As Cass watched, she saw him look over towards his son, his eyebrows raised with a question, as though making sure he was paying attention. Hare visibly twitched, but he remained silent as he returned his father's look. Say something, Cass thought, unaware of how tight she was holding onto Basia. Aren't you going to say something?
February 3, 2026 at 3:12 AM
ameoddly.bsky.social
Had to go with another synonym this time.

#WIPSnips #booksky #writesky #writingcommunity #apocalyptic #fantasy
Cass ended the pitiful thing's pain with a quick slash through the neck. Even a yow didn't deserve to die slowly, and this one had probably once been a perfectly normal deer. It had to be horrible just to become a yow in the first place, Cass imagined, and now it couldn't even be used as food. They would burn this one and the other they'd found later. One thing that the Elders had theorized was that it was spreading through corpses. Better to be safe than sorry.
February 2, 2026 at 1:28 PM
ameoddly.bsky.social
Had to do a synonym this time - went with 'fervent'
#QuestPit was so fun yesterday. Thanks, everyone!
#WIPSnips #booksky #writesky #writingcommunity #fantasy #apocalyptic
Cass took her time, scrubbing her skin and trying to formulate something to tell Anya. She suspected she might have another set of clothes ruined by her own antics, but she left the muddy stuff soaking in the warm basin to deal with later. By the time she stepped back outside, more rain looked to be impending, and Anya was waiting for her at the door, with a stale meat roll and a look that was a lecture in itself. “You're a life saver,” Cass said brightly, taking the roll from her and wasting no time in biting into it. Stale or not, it tasted delicious to her. “I know,” Anya said flatly. “You can explain to me anytime,” She cast a long look around them as Cass nodded fervently that an explanation was coming, though her mouth was full. Anya's frown was deep and her arms were still crossed. “You feel bad for him, don't you?” It was a statement, not a question, told in a low voice.
February 1, 2026 at 4:35 PM
ameoddly.bsky.social
Some more tidbits for #QuestPit
Under the Furious Sun is an adventure novel with sides of horror, romance, and fantasy. If you enjoy some darkness in your post-apocalyptic spice-sprinkled epics - why not follow or subscribe to the newsletter? Serialized release coming soon.
#booksky #writesky
The lamplight flashed on the metal of the machete, and on the black, beady eyes of the creature as it snarled in response. Its gangly and emaciated frame moved backwards, claws scraping the floor as it went, ears slicked down against its head.
February 1, 2026 at 2:28 AM
ameoddly.bsky.social
Robin Hobb x Mad Max

Rustrock's survival depends on them becoming more than a tiny rebel village next to the only civilization in the wasteland.

Newsletter subscribers get the prologue free when it launches -> stats.sender.net/forms/av2k18...

#questpit #apocalyptic #booksky #writesky #fantasy
Under the Furious Sun by Amelia L Rigby When the bullets finally came for her . . .
January 31, 2026 at 10:45 PM
ameoddly.bsky.social
Currently on the final draft editing board.
#SaturdaySnippet #WIPSnips #writesky #booksky #writingcommunity #comingsoon

Now onto focusing on #questpit.
Cass turned to assess her friends for the first time since entering the wretched place: Ferran looked like a different person in the harshness of the lantern he held aloft, his features washed out in yellow light, and the machete in his other hand lit up like he held a beam of sunlight. His face was a severe scowl. He did not have to give any indication of what he was thinking. Behind him, Anya tried to hide her heavy breathing behind the cloth tied across her mouth and nose, though she wheezed as she indicated the gun she held and spoke, “Only had to use two bullets so far.” As though they had thought they would need any.
January 31, 2026 at 5:54 PM
ameoddly.bsky.social
1/30 a little early.

#WIPSnips #booksky #writesky #writingcommunity #readers #fantasy #apocalyptic #wasteland
Less things grew, less color other than shades of brown. The world slowly tapered off to become a bleak badlands, closer to home than was comfortable. The story went that this area had been obliterated by something a very, very long time ago, killing everything in it, and nothing had ever grown back right. Cass remembered asking Basia about the Great Basin as a child, and Basia had responded that she could just go ride a little ways west if she wanted to see a lot of nothing. It was at least considered less dangerous in this direction, the ghost stories a little vaguer and with less of a bite. Cass had, of course, taken her up on that suggestion many times as a child, often with Ferran and Anya in tow. She had gotten one of the widest and whitest scars on her arm by toppling off of the cliffs that they now climbed again. She didn't remember being worried or in much pain, but she did remember being incredibly bloody, and she remembered Anya crying.
January 30, 2026 at 4:30 AM
ameoddly.bsky.social
'Formation'.
#WIPSnips #writingcommunity #booksky #worldbuilding #writesky #fantasty #adventure
Cass's first stop was, of course, to get the box of paper treasures back to the safety and privacy of the meeting hall. It was filled with more than she had thought, maps and scraps and, as Basia had said, the tattered old log from Rustrock's formation. But for now, that map of the Basin and its surroundings were the only thing that Cass had eyes for. She studied it, stretched out on the floor amid all the pieces of her glider, the only light coming from the windows. Cass tried to look over every square inch within the Basin, every word that described how the old civilization used to be organized, but it would take time to understand all she was seeing. She would have to copy the map, Cass quickly decided. It would would never be as pretty and neat as Basia's uncle's map, but it could be Cass's own to take along on her 'grimy adventures' and not have to give back. She would have to gather the right materials for such a project. And the treasure trove of other things in that box . . . Cass felt a little lighter, a little more hopeful, as she stepped back out into the fresh air of the late afternoon. Her small rucksack was strapped over her back and her long-neglected pistol was on her belt, with the machete in its holster on the opposite side.
January 29, 2026 at 4:50 PM
ameoddly.bsky.social
So many 'storms' in my WIPs, but it was difficult to find a non-spoiler-ific snip. So here is one near the beginning of Under the Furious Sun.
Wanna join my newsletter? The prologue will soon be sent for free:
stats.sender.net/forms/av2k18...

#WIPSnips #writers #writingcommunity #storm #booksky
January 27, 2026 at 7:22 PM
ameoddly.bsky.social
January 26th - 'Commit'. Edited to avoid something that was a liiiittle too spoilery.
#WIPSnips #Writesky #booksky #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writers
January 26, 2026 at 4:06 PM
ameoddly.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #booksky #writers #writingcommunity #hounds
January 25, 2026 at 7:20 PM
ameoddly.bsky.social
There are almost too many instances of the word 'bone' to choose from. So you get two.

#WIPSnips #booksky #writers #writingcommunity #horror #bones
At Alexius's feet, the yow was twitching uncontrollably as it died, blood flowing freely from its two bullet wounds – one in the back leg and one squarely in the chest. It was a massive one, as big as Yama, but its blackened, hairless skin had shrunken in to stick close to its muscles and bones as it rotted, making it look nearly skeletal. Francis wondered if it had been a hound from Rustrock at one point, but with how distorted and rotting its head looked, it would have been hard to say. It didn't resemble a hound now. Francis stared down at it and its unseeing, grayed eyes. He was still huffing from his momentary panic. A long time passed. The sounds of ripping hide and cracking bones continued. Eventually it did end, close to morning, but still they did not move. Anya had returned to burrowing her face into Ash, as though she could hide from the world this way; inches away from Cass, Ferran breathed softly in a state of forced calm. His eyes were large and bright, practically unblinking, and the way his hair stuck up reminded Cass of a dog's hackles.
January 24, 2026 at 6:16 PM
ameoddly.bsky.social
I had exactly one instance of this across all my current WIPs.

#WIPSnips #booksky #writing #writers #authors
Lyall pulled out his loop of keys when they reached the massive, heavy set of doors, wide enough to drive a car through, with three different locks keeping them shut tight. “Some of the things that I have had transferred here for your perusal belonged to your grandfather initially, I believe, but had been stored away for some time. I thought that you may . . .” Hare laughed, and Lyall gave him an alarmed look. “My father still had things of my grandfather's he hadn't gone through? I suddenly feel like my own procrastination isn't so severe. Go on then, let's peruse it,”
January 23, 2026 at 11:06 PM