M.S. Russell
@msrussellauthor.bsky.social
Author of dark fiction & alternate histories. Psychology, law, & the supernatural bleed into cursed ink. Words are my haunting. #GothicHorror #AltHistory
One of those patient stories is Ash & Filament.
I’m finally ready to open that door again.
I’m finally ready to open that door again.
November 22, 2025 at 7:51 PM
One of those patient stories is Ash & Filament.
I’m finally ready to open that door again.
I’m finally ready to open that door again.
Exactly. Genre is the wallpaper, identity is the architecture.
Once you stop competing on ‘gothic horror’ and start owning the precise niche you inhabit, the work finally breathes.
Once you stop competing on ‘gothic horror’ and start owning the precise niche you inhabit, the work finally breathes.
November 21, 2025 at 10:28 PM
Exactly. Genre is the wallpaper, identity is the architecture.
Once you stop competing on ‘gothic horror’ and start owning the precise niche you inhabit, the work finally breathes.
Once you stop competing on ‘gothic horror’ and start owning the precise niche you inhabit, the work finally breathes.
The Skeleton Key nails that slow-creeping Southern Gothic dread, where the real horror is the inheritance you never asked for.
November 21, 2025 at 10:00 PM
The Skeleton Key nails that slow-creeping Southern Gothic dread, where the real horror is the inheritance you never asked for.
Draft wild, revise ruthless.
That’s how raw instinct becomes literature.
That’s how raw instinct becomes literature.
November 21, 2025 at 9:50 PM
Draft wild, revise ruthless.
That’s how raw instinct becomes literature.
That’s how raw instinct becomes literature.
Honestly, a well-crafted contortion can be downright endearing. Nothing like a little anatomical rebellion to give a story personality.
November 21, 2025 at 8:02 AM
Honestly, a well-crafted contortion can be downright endearing. Nothing like a little anatomical rebellion to give a story personality.
Once the muse drags you into psychological horror, there’s no crawling back out. Just let her gnaw through the walls of your outline — she knows the way.
November 21, 2025 at 7:28 AM
Once the muse drags you into psychological horror, there’s no crawling back out. Just let her gnaw through the walls of your outline — she knows the way.
Same. Let me peel emotion down to cartilage and landscape it like a haunted topography. When the rhythm hits right and the grotesque blooms, I’m feral with joy.
November 21, 2025 at 7:26 AM
Same. Let me peel emotion down to cartilage and landscape it like a haunted topography. When the rhythm hits right and the grotesque blooms, I’m feral with joy.
No just a living breathing unwonted writer with a weirdly consistent tone and questionable sleep habits, anxiety and all.
November 18, 2025 at 10:50 PM
No just a living breathing unwonted writer with a weirdly consistent tone and questionable sleep habits, anxiety and all.
Isn’t it strange how the things we once diagrammed to death now slip out like ghosts? Half the time I don’t recall choosing a meaning — yet readers stroll in and excavate it like archaeologists of my subconscious. Some of them see more than I intended… or would ever admit.
November 16, 2025 at 9:11 PM
Isn’t it strange how the things we once diagrammed to death now slip out like ghosts? Half the time I don’t recall choosing a meaning — yet readers stroll in and excavate it like archaeologists of my subconscious. Some of them see more than I intended… or would ever admit.
Ah yes, the sacred writer’s altar: notebooks whispering plot threads, characters tapping on the walls, and that one feral idea that refuses to wait its turn.
May your edits be merciful and your coffee strong.
May your edits be merciful and your coffee strong.
November 16, 2025 at 8:51 PM
Ah yes, the sacred writer’s altar: notebooks whispering plot threads, characters tapping on the walls, and that one feral idea that refuses to wait its turn.
May your edits be merciful and your coffee strong.
May your edits be merciful and your coffee strong.
I’ve always thought horror is the only genre honest enough to hold your hand while it slices open the truth.
Some readers come seeking escape—others come seeking exorcism.
But the brave ones?
They come to make eye contact with the thing in the dark… and wink first.
Some readers come seeking escape—others come seeking exorcism.
But the brave ones?
They come to make eye contact with the thing in the dark… and wink first.
November 16, 2025 at 8:47 PM
I’ve always thought horror is the only genre honest enough to hold your hand while it slices open the truth.
Some readers come seeking escape—others come seeking exorcism.
But the brave ones?
They come to make eye contact with the thing in the dark… and wink first.
Some readers come seeking escape—others come seeking exorcism.
But the brave ones?
They come to make eye contact with the thing in the dark… and wink first.
Hi, I’m M.S. Russell, a literary-horror writer weaving the uncanny with the intimate. My work carries the dark elegance of Hellraiser, the feral moon-haunt of Bad Moon, and the doomed-family undertones of Flowers in the Attic—all distilled through a House on Haunted Hill kind of dread.
November 14, 2025 at 9:55 PM
Hi, I’m M.S. Russell, a literary-horror writer weaving the uncanny with the intimate. My work carries the dark elegance of Hellraiser, the feral moon-haunt of Bad Moon, and the doomed-family undertones of Flowers in the Attic—all distilled through a House on Haunted Hill kind of dread.
Ah, yes. The classic slow crawl toward inevitable dominion. Don’t worry — most empires begin with fewer followers and far more skeletons
November 14, 2025 at 9:42 PM
Ah, yes. The classic slow crawl toward inevitable dominion. Don’t worry — most empires begin with fewer followers and far more skeletons
Exactly. Cosmic horror starves you with mystery; phenomenological horror hands you the rulebook and still drags you under. One withholds meaning, the other weaponizes it. Either way, the universe isn’t on your side — and that’s the fun of it.
November 11, 2025 at 10:22 PM
Exactly. Cosmic horror starves you with mystery; phenomenological horror hands you the rulebook and still drags you under. One withholds meaning, the other weaponizes it. Either way, the universe isn’t on your side — and that’s the fun of it.
‘Benignant’ sounds like the sort of word a genteel governess might murmur to a wayward spirit before coaxing it back into the wallpaper. Sweet on the surface, faintly uncanny underneath — just how I like my vocabulary.
November 11, 2025 at 10:17 PM
‘Benignant’ sounds like the sort of word a genteel governess might murmur to a wayward spirit before coaxing it back into the wallpaper. Sweet on the surface, faintly uncanny underneath — just how I like my vocabulary.
Escaping X is the digital equivalent of slipping out of a haunted house and discovering a bookshop next door. If you’re plotting a revolution, at least we’ll have better lighting and better prose.
November 11, 2025 at 10:06 PM
Escaping X is the digital equivalent of slipping out of a haunted house and discovering a bookshop next door. If you’re plotting a revolution, at least we’ll have better lighting and better prose.
Absolutely. A writer who only reads their niche is like a vampire living off one vein — eventually the work anemically thins. Read widely. Let poetry sharpen your instincts, nonfiction feed your spine, picture books remind you of precision. The broader the feast, the richer the blood in the prose.
November 11, 2025 at 9:36 PM
Absolutely. A writer who only reads their niche is like a vampire living off one vein — eventually the work anemically thins. Read widely. Let poetry sharpen your instincts, nonfiction feed your spine, picture books remind you of precision. The broader the feast, the richer the blood in the prose.
At last, a term worthy of those tiresome souls who flit about one’s work like moths with delusions of grandeur. A proper doryphore never writes a line worth reading, yet delights in nibbling at others’. How very… Regency of them.
November 11, 2025 at 1:03 AM
At last, a term worthy of those tiresome souls who flit about one’s work like moths with delusions of grandeur. A proper doryphore never writes a line worth reading, yet delights in nibbling at others’. How very… Regency of them.
Wild idea: if the universe can’t be reduced to an algorithm, then we’re not living in anyone’s simulation. Gödel strikes again. Honestly, I love the implication — reality is stranger and less compressible than code, which means consciousness and creativity still have teeth.
November 11, 2025 at 12:45 AM
Wild idea: if the universe can’t be reduced to an algorithm, then we’re not living in anyone’s simulation. Gödel strikes again. Honestly, I love the implication — reality is stranger and less compressible than code, which means consciousness and creativity still have teeth.
My first drafts stumble onto the page like undead goblins. I let them rot a little, then stitch the good parts together later. Anyone trying to birth a perfect draft on the first try ends up sacrificing themselves to the word-gods. Perfection doesn’t just kill progress — it demands a blood tithe.
November 11, 2025 at 12:30 AM
My first drafts stumble onto the page like undead goblins. I let them rot a little, then stitch the good parts together later. Anyone trying to birth a perfect draft on the first try ends up sacrificing themselves to the word-gods. Perfection doesn’t just kill progress — it demands a blood tithe.
Honestly, that’s the truest creative process I’ve ever seen. Academia in the streets, exorcism in the drafts.
October 26, 2025 at 4:31 AM
Honestly, that’s the truest creative process I’ve ever seen. Academia in the streets, exorcism in the drafts.
“Finished” just means the thing quit bleeding long enough for you to step back. It’s never really done—it just scars over.
October 26, 2025 at 4:23 AM
“Finished” just means the thing quit bleeding long enough for you to step back. It’s never really done—it just scars over.
Yes. The shift happens when imitation gives way to resonance—when you stop asking “Is this good?” and start saying “This is mine.”
October 26, 2025 at 12:10 AM
Yes. The shift happens when imitation gives way to resonance—when you stop asking “Is this good?” and start saying “This is mine.”