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brmevett.bsky.social
brmevett
@brmevett.bsky.social
230 followers 270 following 150 posts
Author of Post-Apocalyptic Science Fiction
Find out what I'm up to at http://brmevett.com
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brmevett.bsky.social
I am not. They switched their focus to Mysteries and Thrillers and we parted ways amicably. Not sure they were the right agent for my books, but they did their best.
November 7, 2025 at 4:04 PM
brmevett.bsky.social
Yes! Your book sounds interesting! I'd love to know more. I got an agent with my first book, Joy, but we couldn't sell it, unfortunately (got really close a couple of times), so I ended up going the self-publishing route. Good luck with the queries!
November 7, 2025 at 3:20 AM
brmevett.bsky.social
Just found you, but better late than never! I am an author of hopeful post-apocalyptic fiction about rebuilding a better world after the Collapse of the U.S. Lyrical, sad but optimistic, with a central role for Indigenous Peoples (though I myself am European-American. #hopepunk #IndigenousFuturism
November 6, 2025 at 10:30 PM
Reposted by brmevett
brmevett.bsky.social
My book is literally called HOPE! It comes out Nov. 11. The post-American continent is beginning to rebuild after the Collapse, the First Nations are leading the way, and a ragtag group joins together to build a home and family on the New Frontier.
#hopepunk #IndigenousFuturism

tinyurl.com/3dxhhsxu
An image of a book in front of a landscape of misty hills. The words Coming November 11th in orange at the top. The cover of the book is dark with the word "HOPE" in white letters. The O is replaced by a futuristic portal within which appears an image of a rustic house on a field of yellow grass. The words "A novel of the new frontier" appear in small letters at the very top, and the author's name, B.R.M. Evett, appears in blue letters under the title.
November 6, 2025 at 9:08 PM
brmevett.bsky.social
My book is literally called HOPE! It comes out Nov. 11. The post-American continent is beginning to rebuild after the Collapse, the First Nations are leading the way, and a ragtag group joins together to build a home and family on the New Frontier.
#hopepunk #IndigenousFuturism

tinyurl.com/3dxhhsxu
An image of a book in front of a landscape of misty hills. The words Coming November 11th in orange at the top. The cover of the book is dark with the word "HOPE" in white letters. The O is replaced by a futuristic portal within which appears an image of a rustic house on a field of yellow grass. The words "A novel of the new frontier" appear in small letters at the very top, and the author's name, B.R.M. Evett, appears in blue letters under the title.
November 6, 2025 at 9:08 PM
Reposted by brmevett
brmevett.bsky.social
From my post-apocalyptic novel HOPE, coming out a week from today!
text that reads, "It can’t be Mindworm. Nobody has had it since they instituted the quarantine, and that was months ago. People have technical issues with their COR all the time. It can’t be Mindworm. But her fear whispers, it could, and an icy shiver rolls up and down Lucinda’s back. She knows what it would mean. She was in chem class when Lisa Barrett went into convulsions and flew at Mrs. Granger, screaming like her body was on fire. She watched the corpses burning on the lawn outside the wall, along with everyone else. No, please let it not be Mindworm. As if in answer to her silent prayer, her COR kicks in again, right where it left off. With a jag of electricity like a punch in the ear, the information sweeps through her mind. But she doesn’t care about the mandolin’s antecedents in the gittern, the mandola, or the lute. She doesn’t care about the influence of the Vinaccia family on the development of steel-stringed instruments. Relief. Relief is all she cares about. She feels whole again. It’s going to be okay. The frightening emptiness within her head is full again. It’s not Mindworm, just a glitch, and surely the last time, and she doesn’t need to worry about it anymore. "
November 4, 2025 at 5:03 PM
brmevett.bsky.social
From my post-apocalyptic novel HOPE, coming out a week from today!
text that reads, "It can’t be Mindworm. Nobody has had it since they instituted the quarantine, and that was months ago. People have technical issues with their COR all the time. It can’t be Mindworm. But her fear whispers, it could, and an icy shiver rolls up and down Lucinda’s back. She knows what it would mean. She was in chem class when Lisa Barrett went into convulsions and flew at Mrs. Granger, screaming like her body was on fire. She watched the corpses burning on the lawn outside the wall, along with everyone else. No, please let it not be Mindworm. As if in answer to her silent prayer, her COR kicks in again, right where it left off. With a jag of electricity like a punch in the ear, the information sweeps through her mind. But she doesn’t care about the mandolin’s antecedents in the gittern, the mandola, or the lute. She doesn’t care about the influence of the Vinaccia family on the development of steel-stringed instruments. Relief. Relief is all she cares about. She feels whole again. It’s going to be okay. The frightening emptiness within her head is full again. It’s not Mindworm, just a glitch, and surely the last time, and she doesn’t need to worry about it anymore. "
November 4, 2025 at 5:03 PM
brmevett.bsky.social
Sure is 🐾.
November 4, 2025 at 4:59 PM
Reposted by brmevett
brmevett.bsky.social
From "Hope," coming out Nov. 11th! A rabies-like virus is infecting people, and one rising warlord has figured out how to control them:
Text that reads, "She is the only reason he is still here. In the night, he actually crept out of bed and stood at the ruined doorway for a quarter of an hour, willing himself to go. Just go. They were all going to die. Or worse. The Doctor would arrive with his army of monsters, and they would run rampant over them. He would take them to his cages and infect them, and Creek would drool and scream and rave and eventually fall, maybe after attacking the Nipmuc village and ripping out the throats of the children he had met there. And the same would happen to all of them. To Lamarque, to Kimo, to Kat (probably not to Sandoval. Sandoval would die in the battle, Creek was pretty sure of that). And Candela. He imagined her face twisted and split by the disease. Then he pictured himself on the road, alone again, safe and alive, but crying in the night, carrying the knowledge that he had left her to that horrible fate. So, he went back to bed. He stayed."
October 31, 2025 at 5:03 PM
brmevett.bsky.social
From "Hope," coming out Nov. 11th! A rabies-like virus is infecting people, and one rising warlord has figured out how to control them:
Text that reads, "She is the only reason he is still here. In the night, he actually crept out of bed and stood at the ruined doorway for a quarter of an hour, willing himself to go. Just go. They were all going to die. Or worse. The Doctor would arrive with his army of monsters, and they would run rampant over them. He would take them to his cages and infect them, and Creek would drool and scream and rave and eventually fall, maybe after attacking the Nipmuc village and ripping out the throats of the children he had met there. And the same would happen to all of them. To Lamarque, to Kimo, to Kat (probably not to Sandoval. Sandoval would die in the battle, Creek was pretty sure of that). And Candela. He imagined her face twisted and split by the disease. Then he pictured himself on the road, alone again, safe and alive, but crying in the night, carrying the knowledge that he had left her to that horrible fate. So, he went back to bed. He stayed."
October 31, 2025 at 5:03 PM
Reposted by brmevett
brmevett.bsky.social
From my Post-Apocalyptic novel, HOPE, coming out Nov. 11th:
Text that reads, "Sandoval starts shouting and waving his arms — No, no, no! — but it is too late. The move pushes the edge-stone further to the side, and it falls into the stream. The van seems to balance for a moment. Then, with comic slowness, it teeters over, further and further. The left track gives way completely, like a chute has opened. Rocks, sticks, and logs tumble down into the babbling water. Sandoval leaps for the van and throws his weight against the side, as if he can somehow stop eight thousand kilos of metal. He can do nothing, of course, and as the vehicle topples over, he jumps back into the water to avoid getting crushed. The van crashes down onto its side in the stream, sending up jets of water. The sight is beautiful and terrible, the violence of destruction turned balletic in the silence of his world. It only takes a few seconds, but it seems to him that it moves in slow motion, stretched out into timelessness. He knows that this is a calamity for them that will not be remedied, but the magic holds him spellbound."
October 30, 2025 at 7:53 PM
brmevett.bsky.social
From my Post-Apocalyptic novel, HOPE, coming out Nov. 11th:
Text that reads, "Sandoval starts shouting and waving his arms — No, no, no! — but it is too late. The move pushes the edge-stone further to the side, and it falls into the stream. The van seems to balance for a moment. Then, with comic slowness, it teeters over, further and further. The left track gives way completely, like a chute has opened. Rocks, sticks, and logs tumble down into the babbling water. Sandoval leaps for the van and throws his weight against the side, as if he can somehow stop eight thousand kilos of metal. He can do nothing, of course, and as the vehicle topples over, he jumps back into the water to avoid getting crushed. The van crashes down onto its side in the stream, sending up jets of water. The sight is beautiful and terrible, the violence of destruction turned balletic in the silence of his world. It only takes a few seconds, but it seems to him that it moves in slow motion, stretched out into timelessness. He knows that this is a calamity for them that will not be remedied, but the magic holds him spellbound."
October 30, 2025 at 7:53 PM
brmevett.bsky.social
Yep: That's happened to me a couple of times. I had it addressed to the wrong person, too. "Kelly, I am absolutely floored by the brilliance of your (random Romance or Mystery title — I write Post-Apocalyptic Fiction). But boy are they going to make it a hit! Maybe I should write it :).
October 30, 2025 at 7:49 PM
brmevett.bsky.social
From my upcoming book, "Hope: A Novel of the New Frontier":
Text that reads, "They drive past the elementary school. A flock of uniformed seven-year-olds swoops around the playground, yelling and shrieking in some indefinable game. Lucinda remembers playing that game — something where the boys were soldiers (they were always soldiers) and the girls were horses and they would charge hither and yon, securing various little hills, protecting them from invading Nonalites. She’s never seen an actual horse, but that never stopped anyone. A flick to your COR and you knew all about them. So innocent."
October 22, 2025 at 6:02 PM
brmevett.bsky.social
From my soon-to-be-released (Nov 11th!) WIP "Hope":
Text that reads, "It wasn’t that she had no real feelings for him. She did. But he could get so moody, especially when it came to the differences between them – her COR in particular. She loved her COR, and what it gave her. It was more than a handy tool. It was her world. It defined her. COR-less, he could never understand. But she could see how it made him feel inferior. She knew he was jealous, and wished she could make him see that she didn’t care that he had no COR, and didn’t care about the Enclave boys who had one, either. She didn’t care that they could load the history of the Crusades or the mathematics of quantum field theory, and he couldn’t. It had nothing to do with him or them, or anyone. Lucinda just loved that she had that power. Besides, she really enjoyed having sex with him in the closet behind the stage at the Arts Center. One thing in her life she could control. One thing that belonged just to her. Maybe it wasn’t love, but it was something."
October 20, 2025 at 3:40 PM