J.T.Corwith
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jtcorwith.bsky.social
J.T.Corwith
@jtcorwith.bsky.social
30 followers 35 following 21 posts
Writer, Air Traffic Controller-retired
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jtcorwith.bsky.social
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Saturday Snippet, from Rocke Stoene...
#amwriting, #fantasy, #wip, #wipsnips, #fantasyindiesmarch, #fantasynovel
April 5, 2025 at 4:48 PM
jtcorwith.bsky.social
Saturday Snippet, from Rocke Stoene...
#amwriting, #fantasy, #wip, #wipsnips, #fantasyindiesmarch, #fantasynovel
fantasy indies march I wove my way through the crowd on my way to Mid-Hill, a neighborhood where servants and nobles mingled over foamy mugs of ale. When I left my office, Maw-maw was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she was still angry, or perhaps she was just pursuing her own spectral tasks. I didn’t pry into her life—or rather, her existence—at least, not usually. But by evening, we’d always talk, sharing what we’d learned. It was our rhythm. At times, her insights were unsettlingly accurate. I’d often thought to ask her if she worked the cases from her side of the life-veil, putting in the legwork much as I did. A wry grin twisted my lips, as an absurdly amusing mental image of the dearly departed spirits lined up for questioning came to mind. Pity the poor souls who would soon be subjected to Maw-maw’s spectral inquisition. I chuckled, earning a few curious glances from passersby. The funny looks I got when I laughed out loud were nothing new. Some folks think I’m addled, whispering behind my back about ‘the spirit-talker’. They’d quickly avert their eyes, a flicker of unease in their gaze, as if catching my eye might somehow taint them. In this city, spirit-talkers were relegated to fable, a tall tale spun by the simple folk of the frontier. No respectable citizen would dare give credence to such nonsense. I long ago stopped worrying about it. So long as they didn’t whisper ‘necromancer’, the side-eyed glances and hushed words were a small price to pay.
March 22, 2025 at 3:16 PM
jtcorwith.bsky.social
#fantasyindiesmarch
Bad Luck? Though Rocke gets rained on everytime he enters a graveyard, I'd have to say Rowdy has the worst luck. His phobia of spirits, fueled by accidentally ingesting a hoo-haw in an ale, seems to just attract more of them. Like being allergic to cats, they just KNOW...
March 19, 2025 at 7:27 PM
jtcorwith.bsky.social
From my WIP, Rocke Stoene: Graveyard Blues. Following an ambush, Rocke is healed by a shamanic healer who draws him into a magical plane.
#fantasyindiesmarch #amwriting #fantasy #wip

dorilawake.blogspot.com/p/golden-eye...
March 15, 2025 at 4:25 PM
jtcorwith.bsky.social
@coyotedancing.bsky.social
Time for coffee...
March 8, 2025 at 12:37 PM
jtcorwith.bsky.social
Free Friday:
#FantasyIndiesMarch #fantasy #writers 7
From Rocke Stoene: Graveyard Blues...
I mulled over the wisdom of stopping by my favorite pub, Kong’s Donkey. Most folk called the homey place Kong’s Ass, a name that caused the owner, Clift Kong, to ball up his fists in frustration.
March 7, 2025 at 6:53 PM
jtcorwith.bsky.social
#FantasyIndiesMarch #fantasy #writers 6
Rowdy, a minor character in my wip, has to spill a single drop from his ale before he drinks it, a Quirk acquired when he once accidentally swallowed (or so he thinks) a spirit once.
March 6, 2025 at 8:18 PM