novelist & bookshop haunter

just a writer running on caffeine and deadlines✨ my dark fantasy THE HOLLOWS is available HERE and on kindle unlimited 🖤

If you’re into sword-wielding witches, haunting ghosts (including 27 ghost cats 🐈‍⬛), and tempting demons—all wrapped up in a sapphic love story—this one’s for you!

Me leaving comments on fics.

werewolf body horror is under utilised- imagine pissing a guy off and his bones start rippling under his skin only to settle back as if nothing happened because he decided you werent worth it

me and my beloved reader who tells me my fic made them cry

There are two types of writers:

1. 'It's fiction, it doesn't need to make sense!'

2. 'I didn't account for the rotation of the planet and how that affects the constalations while my characters stargazed at different times of year, I have failed as a writer, and this entire thing is trash'

Shout out to everyone on my dashboard who is enthusiastically talking about whatever the fuck theyre into that I don't recognise. Love your enthusiasm, keep going, I don't know what's happening but i support u

Some idiot: "Why are you reading your own fic, that's shallow and stupid"

All fanfic writers and writers everywhere: "Who the fuck do you think I wrote it for?!"

just a writer running on caffeine and deadlines✨ my dark fantasy THE HOLLOWS is available HERE and on kindle unlimited 🖤

If you’re into sword-wielding witches, haunting ghosts (including 27 ghost cats 🐈‍⬛), and tempting demons—all wrapped up in a sapphic love story—this one’s for you!

💕🐺🦴THE BONES WE HAUNT COVER REVEAL💕🐺🦴

Revealing the beautiful cover for my gothic horror werewolf romance book THE BONES WE HAUNT by @/erikamariah.bsky.social on Bluesky💕🐺🦴

Now available for ebook pre-order!!

Add it to your Goodreads TBR here!

In November of 1905, Jane Sterling, a young American socialite and familial black sheep, seeks a chance to indulge in her love for paleontology between attending archeological lectures at the University of Cambridge in her father’s stead. After a chance reunion with Terence Hayes, a reclusive gentleman, offers her the once in a lifetime opportunity to appraise fossils found on his property, she can hardly resist, and lets him whisk her away to his ancestral home of the Drowning House.

Isolated in the middle of the vast Wolf’s Run marshes that are marred by unfriendly locals and legends of beasts stalking the reeds under the cover of night, Jane finds she is all too happy to leave when her work is finished. But when violent storms cause waters in the marsh to rise, washing out the roads, she becomes trapped on the grounds and is forced to face something hungry that comes to scratch at her door — something not quite… human.

Imprisoned in the house by the marshes and a potential beast stalking within the reeds, Jane is pulled into a game of survival as she deciphers demonic secrets plaguing a family’s bloodline and battles her growing attraction towards a man caging dark secrets beneath his skin.

Close-ups:

god if there was a book of forbidden spells I wouldn’t even hesitate

"Would anyone want to read --" Listen, imma stop you right there. Yes. YES, someone would want to read that. You write that weird little fucked up story. Or that domestic little slice of life story. That drabble or that 300k monster.

I promise someone wants to read it.

Sometimes the cure to writers block is to just write something else. Doesn’t matter what, just whatever comes to mind to loosen up the word gears. Sometimes you just need to put word vomit on a page to wake up the brain worms so you can get back on your WIP

Sometimes you, the author, try to write something and the character grabs your hand and goes "I would not fucking say that."

And the worst part is that they're usually right.

do you ever think about dead versions of yourself that are fossilized in someone else's mind

i see that this one kind of fucked everyone up