Tagged: TWF

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.

Greetings, children of the dark. It’s been a big few weeks in my world and I am very much paying for it as I write this to you. I ran the most recent edition of my Writing the Occult series, all about Hauntology, at the end of November, and it feels like since then I’ve been playing catch-up while continuing to run around like a headless chook: social engagements (yes, UncannyCon was f***ing awesome!), running workshops, planning more events, and generally winding down at work for the end of year. I hit a wall this week and had to spend most of it (to date, at least) sitting on the couch watching angsty teen supernatural dramas. I’m almost done with the latest (Legacies, a previously-unknown-to-me spin-off from The Vampire Diaries), so do let me know your recommendations of which teen world I need to inhabit next! It’s funny, but I never realised these sorts of shows were my escape vehicle until this last week or so. I am not ashamed in the slightest. 

And so as we push forward with the final two weeks of 2024, we head into this week’s missive from TWF Towers. This week’s main course from Carl W. Townsend dips into the always-necessary well that warns of the dangers of unchecked technology. That’s followed by the short, sharp speculations of:

• R H Williams’s after-school activities,
• Maggie C Nolan’s end of time, and
• S.K. Green’s hearing challenges.

Over to you, Stuart.

Greetings, children of the dark. As you read this (if you’re reading it pretty close to publishing time), I’m sitting in London’s Southbank Centre surrounded by paranormal enthusiasts. It’s time for UncannyCon, the now-annual gathering of the community that’s built up around the Uncanny podcasts. For those who haven’t had the pleasure yet, this is a BBC (i.e. state broadcaster) podcast offering that investigates paranormal cases from multiple sides, and features experts who try to explain what might or might not be happening – is it sleep paralysis or did you really see a ghost sitting on your bed, that kind of thing. I was slow to the uptake but have been obsessed with this thing for the last few years, and try to get to all its live events within reach of me whenever I can. I even got to fangirl over one of the resident experts, Evelyn Hollow, at my Writing the Occult: Hauntology event last weekend! (Gods, how I embarrassed myself in front of one of my heroes. So much shame.) 

Why am I saying this? Partly to boast, but also partly because it’s part of my denial that Christmas is coming and the end of the year looms large in the rear view mirror. On the former festive phenomenon, be aware that our Christmas special edition has now closed to submissions. The team is reviewing them all and you’ll hear from us soon. As to the other parts? Well, just a reminder of the sort of thing that tickles my fancy, I guess. I’m here for the dark and supernatural tales, not the gory crime ones. TWF has evolved over the years, after all! You’ll find our likes and dislikes over in the submissions guidelines, which I very much recommend you read if you want to submit to us because, my word, our inbox is looking very much like those guidelines are optional.

They are not.

Please note our open windows for short stories and specials (we are open year-round for all other sections). 

Note that you need to use our submission form at the bottom of that submissions page and fill in every part of it so that we know where to direct your submission – I’ve been accidentally putting some Christmas drabbles into the regular ol’ weekly edition pile and that limits your chances of getting picked once Christmas is over. 

Note that you need to upload your story in a MS Word document – don’t paste it into the form and send it to the general contact inbox. 

And make sure your story fits our needs! We’re not looking for true stories. This is a publication for dark speculative fiction. 

OK, so it’s the end of the year and I’m tired and grumpy, so let’s just move onto our weekly fare. This week’s main course from Cameron Walker has us confused and muttering in a hospital ward. That’s followed by the short, sharp speculations of:

• Adam Hannah’s good dog,
• Christina Nordlander’s lost time, and
• Andrew Keyworth’s fairytale folly.

Over to you, Stuart.

_____

PS – speaking of my hauntology event, just wanted to pass on a massive congratulations to Adam S Leslie, whose weird folk horror novel Lost in the Garden has been shortlisted for the Nero Book Awards. Adam was one of the event guests, and we chatted about infusing your fiction with a hauntological atmosphere. Lost in the Garden definitely has that, and is one of my favourite reads of this year – go grab it if you haven’t already!

PPS – speaking of Writing the Occult, the next edition will focus on the uncanny, and we’ll gather on 18 January. Details to come! Pitch me an idea if you want to be one of the guests 😉

Greetings, children of the dark. I’m in denial. I refuse to believe today is the 1st of December. This year cannot almost be over. I haven’t done anything! I’ve wallowed in the dark too much! What happened to all of those plans I made?!?! If you’re in the same position – and/or you’re still too full of Thanksgiving food to be able to move – let me invite you to escape into some darkly speculative fiction. 

If you fancy penning some of your own, our Christmas special is open for subs for about another week – make sure your story is absolutely, 100% verifiably tied to the season, please! Not just that it’s a bit cold. And we always, always need more drabbles – not seasonal, though those are welcome; just general dark drabbles always, please. Make them dark but also make them speculative: less of the true crime as we’re unlikely to accept those unless a supernatural beast did it. 

For now, though, it’s time for our weekly fare. This week’s main course is of the zombie insect variety, courtesy of Mike Scofield. That’s followed by the short, sharp speculations of:

• Corinne Pollard’s scientific experiments,
• John M’s string-pulling, and
• P.D. McKone’s staring contest.

Over to you, Stuart.