Author: Lauren McMenemy

Greetings, children of the dark. Did you enjoy your international day of corporate love? I’ve never been a Valentine’s gal, but I sure did enjoy the V-Day edition of TWF assembled by our own Jane Morecroft. Thanks to all who submitted – next special edition is the Summer one, and we have another new assistant editor to take the helm of that one. I’ll introduce the revamped team very soon, I promise! Just got to get over this stupid virus first…

In other news, I’m very excited to almost be up to date with our short story submissions reading. That hasn’t happened in… oh, I don’t know… YEARS. The expanded team is truly helping, and I would give each of them a massive hug if I could. Thanks to all in TWF Towers for all you do. Including the boss man, who is the world’s busiest man and I honestly don’t know how he does it all and still finds time to write and submit!

Speaking of submissions: I’m in a mode, my friends. I actually wrote an almost-10,000 word story last month and submitted it to an anthology being put together by the amazing PS Livingstone. No word yet on how/when it will be released, but I feel so smug for having actually done it that I’ve now got my sights on two folk horror anthology calls that close in the coming fortnight. And considering I’ll be off at the UK Ghost Story Festival this coming week, and then at the British Fantasy Society’s annual retreat at the iconic Gladstone’s Library the following weekend, well, maybe my writing journey might be getting back on track? Don’t make too much of a fuss; I don’t want to alert the universe to this anomaly. 

Soooo, let’s quickly and seamlessly transition to this week’s edition, where Adam Hannah tries to keep Friday’s love-fest going but takes it in a much more familiar TWF-y dark direction (aka revenge). That’s followed by the short, sharp speculations of:

• Autumn Bettinger’s art experiments,
• Crystal N. Ramos’s therapy tech, and
• Shiloh Kuhlman’s generational trauma.

And one last thing: I often mention the British Fantasy Society here, mainly because I volunteer as its marketing officer, but there’s something afoot you should really know about. We’ve recently announced a mentorship programme, and there’s a whole range of speculative fiction bods lining up to offer mentorship across everything from ideation to writing a manuscript to editing and querying to, yes, marketing and building an author brand (that one might be me). It’s only open to BFS members, but with membership starting at just £20 per year and open to anyone, anywhere, there’s really not much stopping you. Right? Details over here.

Over to you, Stuart.

Greetings, children of the dark. I’m loaded full of cold and flu right now so will cut to the chase today with just a few parish notices:

• We are now closed to Valentine’s submissions. Our V-day editor Jane Morecroft will be getting in touch in the coming days – if she hasn’t already – to let you know if you were successful. Make sure you keep an eye out for the Dark Love edition hitting the interwebz on Friday!
• We are slowly, slowly working our way through the regular ol’ short story submissions from both the October and January window; please bear with us but we’re catching up slowly.
• We’re also now proofreading the 2023 anthology, which should hopefully be ready soon. Thanks to the legend that is Steph Ellis for helping pull this together, and some of our fresh new residents of TWF Towers who are divvying up the proofreading to help out.
• Finally, this is your regular reminder that we have an insatiable need for drabbles – like, all the damn time. Get your little darklings of exactly 100 words over to us via the submission form, and make sure they’re a complete story in and of themselves; as much as I love reading extracts from longer works, our drabbles need to work on their own more than anything. 

And so onto this week’s edition, where P.A. Cornell (a Nebula finalist, no less!) has a neighbour who takes a bit too much and faces the consequences. That’s followed by the short, sharp speculations of:

• Nico Martinez Nocito’s glimmer in the dark,
• Kelley Tai’s star-crossed lovers, and
• Nissa Harlow’s woodland wanderings.

Over to you, Stuart.

Oh, PS: for those who have been following my creative burnout journey, guess what? I only bloody well finished and submitted an almost-10,000 word short story this week! I know, I can’t believe it either. It’s probably why I’m sick now…

Greetings, children of the dark. Finally – finally! – the neverending bullsh*t of January is over. But that does mean it’s now February, and time marches ever onward. I’m consoling myself with the fact the daylight is staying around slightly longer every day. 

The arrival of February also means we’ve officially started reviewing our Valentine’s submissions, but you’ve got a few more days left to get yours in – hit our submissions page for details, and make sure you’re channeling your best jilted monster lover, ghostly unrequited feelings, and other obsessions of the soul. Which brings me to introducing the first of our new residents in TWF Towers: welcome, Jane Morecroft, who’s now laser-focused on your dark hearts. Jane is a journalist as well as a creative writer, a slush reader for Andromeda Spaceways, an editorial assistant at Beneath Ceaseless Skies, and now the Assistant Editor for the Valentine’s Special Edition at TWF. Needless to say, she’s pretty darn qualified to sit in the loveseat.

Wanting to catch her eye? Jane says she’s looking for character driven stories with a twist, and a close narrative voice is very appealing to her. All the usual TWF submission guidelines also apply, so head over here to check those and get submitting. 

And so onto this week’s edition. For today’s TWF main course we get weird – real weird – on a stormy clifftop with Andrew Keyworth. That’s followed by the short, sharp speculations of:

• Catherine Berry’s warning, (trigger warning: sexual harassment)
• Brian Rosenberger’s vengeance, and
• Henry Gibbons’s impatience (trigger warning: talk of suicide)

Over to you, Stuart.

Greetings, children of the dark. And it really is dark out there, isn’t it? I hope you’re staying safe, staying kind to yourself and to others, and finding what you need to get through this. It’s going to be a long haul, but we’ll get there together. 

And if issuing our weekly missives of dark speculative fiction from TWF Towers helps in any way to keep you chugging along, then we’re very happy to oblige. Soon, we’ll have new residents moving in, and I hope to introduce them soon. We’re still seeking someone to take on our festive special editions, so please do get in touch if you’d like to join the crew. Obviously we have a bit of time up our sleeve, but it’d be nice to complete the crew sooner rather than later!

The good news is that our newly-expanded crew is also helping to get our very overdue 2023 anthology into your hands, so they’re already making an impact. And, of course, all credit, glory, and gifts go to the incredible Steph Ellis who’s jumped back in to help with the technicalities of that project. 

And so onto this week’s edition. For today’s TWF we head into the furthest reaches of space with Anna Orridge. That’s followed by the short, sharp speculations of:

• Kara Kahnke’s artistic needs (trigger warning: domestic violence),
• Robert Allen Lupton’s assessment of manking, and
• DJ Tyrer’s lost city.

Until next time, stay strong.

Over to you, Stuart.

Greetings, children of the dark. How’s your 2025 emerging? I’m already berating myself for not sprinting out of the gates, so it feels right to remind you tomorrow, 20 January, is the third Monday of the month which makes it Blue Monday. While this was originally a marketing gimmick for a travel company, it’s ballooned into a global mental health awareness day. January can be dark in more than just weather ways, so check in on yourself, check in on your friends, and keep each other safe. It’s ok to not be ok, and it’s definitely ok to ask for help. 

With that, I have some parish notices for you before launching into this week’s edition:

• First, our January short story submissions window is now firmly closed. We will not be taking any more short story submissions until the next window opens in April; find the details over here, and note they’re also on the submission form itself if you need a reminder!
• That said, we are always open for drabbles – those tiny tiny complete stories in 100 words – as well as unholy trinities and serialised stories. You’ll find details for those over in the submissions page as well.
• Finally, thanks to those who’s expressed interest in joining our assistant editor team to help out with the special editions. I’m hoping we have three out of four confirmed now, but are still seeking a volunteer to take ownership of our Christmas special edition. Could it be you? Do you love a bit of festive darkness? Get in touch and let us know!

And so onto this week’s edition. The TWF dark and delicious menu today is centred around Jessie Atkin’s strange growth. That’s followed by the short, sharp speculations of:

• Jane Bryan’s gloomy warning,
• Joshua Ginsberg’s dark omen, and
• Weird Wilkins’s thirst for knowledge.

Over to you, Stuart.

Greetings, children of the dark. Before we get into it, let us wish our Californian friends much luck and safety as those fires continue to grip. Be well; seek refuge. 

It’s all systems go here at TWF Towers, almost like we never took a break, so we have a few parish notices. First up, our new editorial assistant Annette Livingstone has officially taken over managing the Horror Tree inbox, so you’ll see a new name popping up to acknowledge your submissions. Please don’t worry – she’s won’t bite (much). 

Also, you may have seen on social media that we’re looking for a new assistant editor to take over the special editions. That call-out has morphed a little: the boss man liked my suggestion of widening our team even further, and so we’re actually seeking an editor take on each of the special editions – four in total! That will not only give us more back-up in the world of TWF Towers, but it’ll also help YOU specialise in whichever holiday grabs you most. We think we’ve got a new Valentine’s editor, fingers crossed, so if you have a love of summer horror, of festive darkness, or you consider yourself Halloween royalty, please do get in touch. We’d love to hear from you: [email protected]. 

(Remember, these are volunteer positions; as much as we’d love to pay our team, any earnings the site makes need to go into keeping the lights on and paying for submissions. We don’t do this for the glory!)

And so onto this week’s edition, where Sarah Cline brings us a main course dripping with blood and regret. This one is truly haunting, but does come with content warnings for animal harm. That’s followed by the short, sharp (and coincidentally ghostly and somewhat vehicular) speculations of:

• F.M. Scott’s accidental hitchhiker,
• Crystal N. Ramos’s anniversary grief, and
• Shiloh Kuhlman’s lingering soul.

Before we leave you to it, though, permit me a final plug? Writing the Occult: The Uncanny happens this Saturday 18 January,. Want to learn more about the uncanny valley, doppelgangers, creepy dolls, and how the uncanny goes beyond horror and into all of speculative fiction? Details are at writingtheoccult.carrd.co. 

Over to you, Stuart.

Greetings, children of the dark. I didn’t like writing ‘25’ at the top of this week’s edition. It feels like 2025 is the far-future, the sort of year that dystopian films are set in, all grimy and neon and rainy and dark. And, I guess, that’s kinda the world we’re living in (just less replicants). 

But I’ll admit it, dear reader: I’m feeling old. Like, really old. It didn’t help that the last half of 2024 just blazed past me and I never really noticed. It feels like I’ve spent much of recent history chasing my tail, trying to catch up, never quite getting done what I want to get done because there’s always something I’m running behind on. Heck – if you’ve submitted a short story in one of our recent open windows, you’ll know how far behind I am! (I’m sorry, I promise to do better this year.)

So what can I do about it? Change my mindset, sure. Make plans. Set goals. But my neurodivergent brain just won’t work that way. Any goals I set become things to avoid. Plans are changeable; mindset feels like it never will change. So my not-goal – my vague wave at a new way of living – for 2025 is to do better. No SMART goal here; no hard metrics I can rail against. I just want to do a bit better than I have been lately. I’m hoping my freelance work situation will settle a bit this month and I’ll be able to have some dedicated time to do all of my volunteering AND actually do my own writing. I said this time last year that I wanted to submit short stories and never did. This year, I’m just going to try to make time to write and see what happens. I need to be mindful that I’m still in burnout/breakdown recovery – yes, three years later; these things take way longer than I thought they would! – and not push myself. I need to be conservative with my energy. But I also need to not go into trances and doomscroll and spend time staring at walls and ceilings anymore. 

I have a funny feeling my lack of action is contributing to those feelings of ancient-ness – and I’m not a centuries-old vampire ffs! I’m just a middle-aged Australian who’s facing a new phase in life and kinda not handling it well, but I’m trying to retain and regain some hope. To help with that, I asked TWF Towers’ own Vicky Brewster to take a look at an old manuscript I wrote for the 3 Day Novel competition a few years ago; they’ve given me feedback and didn’t tell me to chuck it in the trash because it’s useless, so now it’s up to me to decide what to do with it. The story feels a bit zeitgeist-y for now, but it’s also not my usual style or genre so will see what happens with it. I also still have my Victorian occult thing kicking around, and an even older folk horror set in the Aussie outback. These all have legs; I just need to get my fingers tapping on them. Or maybe I need something shiny and new to get me out of the creative rut. I did have a brainwave at Fantasycon last year and decided I needed to write some vampire smut, so maybe that’s my way back? Heaven help us all if that’s the case!

Anyways, enough of my New Years ranting; let’s get to why you’re making this visit to TWF Towers: our first edition of 2025. This week’s main course takes us into the world of R.H. Stevens, where we find a lonely operator on their last job of a rainy evening. That’s followed by the short, sharp speculations of:

• Penny Brazier’s twisted warning to local children,
• Corinne Pollard’s magical mayhem, and
• Robert Allen Lupton’s deep-space exploration.

Before we leave you to it, though, permit me a plug or two? My next Writing the Occult event happens on Saturday 18 January, and this time we’re tackling the uncanny with a rainbow hammer. Want to learn more about the uncanny valley, doppelgangers, creepy dolls, and how the uncanny goes beyond horror and into all of speculative fiction? Details are at writingtheoccult.carrd.co. 

Also, my work with the British Fantasy Society continues. (Have you joined yet? You really should – you don’t have to be British, and you don’t even have to be a writer! All fans of the speculative world are welcome.) Next Saturday I’m hosting a panel discussion about heroes and villains as part of the first virtual event of the year, all about crafting complex, believable and relatable characters. It’s free to BFS members and just £5 (about US$6.20) for everyone else. Get full details of who’s speaking, as well as your tickets, over here.

Oh, and finally, in case you missed it over the holidays, we’re looking for two new volunteers to move into TWF Towers! Could it be you? In short, we seek a replacement as well as someone to step into a new role. 

Assistant Editor – Special Editions

Responsible for our (currently) 4 special editions every year: Valentine’s, Summer, Halloween, Christmas.

Read submissions + deal with slush pile + contract successful writers.

Drum up interest in subs to your section.

Work with the editor-in-chief (aka ME) and other assistant editors (aka Sarah Elliott and Vicky Brewster) to keep the site and its free fiction offering running.

 

Publications Editor

A new (much-needed!) role for HorrorTree.com & Trembling With Fear.

Take control of getting the annual anthologies ready for publication: typesetting & formatting, dealing with Amazon, etc.

Experience with self-publishing will be a very big gold star in your favour.

Over to you, Stuart.

PS Happy new year, or just happy Sunday, depending on how you feel about these things!

Greetings, children of the dark. The darkest of the dark times are upon us; as you read this, you may well be waking up from the longest night of the year. And while that means for the next six months we can look forward to the light returning, it doesn’t mean any changes here at TWF Towers. We will always seek the darker side of life, so come, bring us your tales of pesky pixies, harrowing hauntings, creepy cryptids, and really anything else that fits the theme of speculative fiction in the dark. Yes, we’ll be opening up to short story submissions again at the beginning of January – and yes, I know we are running massively behind on getting back to those who have submitted short stories over the last two windows. I plan on catching up big time over the festive break, and then we’ll just need to wait on the boss to have his say! Stay tuned; we should be with you soon.

For now, though, let’s dive into the second-to-last regular missive from TWF Towers for 2024. This week’s main course comes courtesy of trusted regular contributor DJ Tyrer, who delivers a bit of eco-horror that’ll get you looking twice at the tree that’s likely in your house right now. That’s followed by the short, sharp speculations of:

• Brian Rosenberger’s viral lament,
• Amelia Afrin’s close call, and
• F.M. Scott’s remnants of past art.

And remember to keep an eye out for our spectacular Christmas special edition, coming your way imminently! Thanks to new specials editor Lynn for all her hard work on it, and on pulling together our VERY late 2023 TWF anthology. 

From me, to end, I wish you the very best of the season, however, wherever, and if you celebrate. Be kind to yourself as the year comes to a close. Tomorrow is a new day, and the light is returning.

Over to you, Stuart.