Writer Collaboration Novels & Stories

You might’ve had a dog, and a husband, and a boring job in accounting. You might never have known what it feels like to fall apart completely—and then put yourself back together from ash. But I don’t envy you. Because I love this version of me, too. Marla – POV We launched a new initiative at Rewrite. We called it “Write Forward.” A mentorship program pairing older survivors with younger ones, not as experts, but as co-authors. Each pair wrote a story together. Sometimes fiction. Sometimes memoir. Sometimes something in between. It worked better than any curriculum we’d ever tried.

"I don't give a damn what pearl-clutching celibates think they understand about my motivations and character." Smoky squirmed uneasily in my arms, flicking a distressed tail as I continued in heated undertones. "Chris is my literary collaborator and friend, nothing more. What we share is a mutual admiration and passion for the written craft, period." Jane's mouth curved in a skeptical moue of distaste. "Oh, I'm sure you'd like us all to take that at face value..." Heedless of her condescension, I pressed forward with escalating vehemence.

she murmured, “I feel… distracted.” Fallon eyed the phone. “That good?” “They’re looking for scripted works,” Elara said. “Sylvia wants us to submit together. Collaborations.” Fallon frowned. “Together… as in?” “As in she believes in my writing but we will merge mine with some of her ideas.” Fallon watched Elara’s face soften, just a little. Enough to notice. “Hey,” Fallon said gently. “If this makes you feel normal again, I’m for it.”

Lorenzo looked at what he had written. He crossed it out. He wrote it again. She read it. "Yes," she said. "That." They worked for three hours. She wrote some sections. He wrote others. Some they wrote together ... one person starting a sentence and the other finishing it in the specific unconscious way of people who had been thinking alongside each other long enough that the seams were no longer visible. Fausto had asked for four hundred words. They wrote six hundred. She looked at the final draft. At her father's name in the first paragraph.