Author: Mouna Kacem

You finished your short story or your poem. You’re planning to send it to literary magazines (our magazine, maybe? :)). Before you hit that send button, make sure your piece is properly formatted. As a new writer, perhaps you don’t see the importance of formatting, but it is important. Take my word for it, or don’t :). But you should take the word of one of the industry’s gate keepers. Literary agent Noah Lukeman, in his book, The First Five Pages, mentioned reasons for a manuscript to end up in the trash bin before being read. You guessed it, poor…

When I first heard of ProWritingAid, I thought it to be just another tool on the market. However, ProWritingAid proved to have a broader vision. What makes the software stand out is that it acts as a writing coach. In the sense that it doesn’t only correct your spelling and punctuation (in fact, other tools might be more accurate in this than ProWritingAid), but it addresses every layer of your writing like the style and word choice, the passive voice etc. However, in my opinion, the best thing about ProWritingAid has nothing to do with the tool itself. It’s something…

Cold droplets of water fall from my face as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The purple of my dark circles compliments my red-rimmed eyes, if you ask me. From where I’m standing, the green color in them isn’t visible–Just two black holes in the middle of my ashen face. Yes, they are in the middle because of my huge forehead. I relax my jaw which is clenched because of the massive headache I just had. They’ve become more frequent, and I don’t know what to make of it. “Ah, ugh.” I moan, rubbing my temples. I don’t…

As famous as Save the Cat! Writes a novel is, I still hear new writers say when they hear the title of this book, “Save the what? What has that to do with writing?”The title has a story that makes sense when you learn what it means, but it’s against every recommendation a marketing specialist would give, like choosing a title that fits your genre and making sure it hasn’t been used by an existing book.As a new writer, don’t follow her example in this. You don’t have the fan base she had when she wrote her book, and you…

This epistolary is inspired by a story I saw on YouTube of a shooting victim who forgave his shooter. Among the things he said he mentioned receiving a letter from the shooter’s children. And he ended up meeting them. It made me thing what would that letter look like? What would they have said to him? July 4th, 2022 Dear Mr. Patel, We’re under the impression that you’d refuse to meet us. Any sane person would. So, we went for the second best option, writing you a letter with the help of our lawyer. Though we’re all going through some…

Introduction You want to write a book, but you don’t know where to start? You’re not alone. Most beginner writers feel that way, but the difference is that you took the first step and tried to find answers to your questions in order to give the million ideas running through your head a chance to be born. Many people claim or dream of writing books, but only few of them end up actually doing it. So congratulations! Now, how to decide what to write? Here are some pointers: Tip 1: Identify your why Take a moment to reflect on the…

The streetlights painted the city with an orange glow, creating an illusion of warmth. I walked by the lines of high-end boutiques of which Rue Flaubert was known. Shop windows were decorated with fake trees, and “Bonne année” was written in fake snow. Whatever wintry atmosphere they wanted to set had failed. After all, it never snowed here. It rained, though, heavily. And the shoddy infrastructure made it a miserable experience. I shivered and wrapped my coat around my face to shield it from the wind, leaving my red, swollen fingers victim to its whips. Growing up, we’d never celebrated…

The breeze played with my hair, sending a strand over my eyes. I pulled it away and frowned. The once midnight-black mane had now some white strands. I flipped my head to the side, looking at the waterfall of salt and pepper. When did this happen? I reached to brush my fingers through it, but a veiny hand came in sight. It’s my hand? My mouth hung low when I brought both hands in front of me, turning them back and forth. They were wrinkly. A deep chuckle caused me to drop them on my lap. I flipped my head…

They think I’m depressed because I refuse to leave this bed. I’m not. I put the tray on the table next to me. They want me to eat, but I don’t need food. The birds chirp on the tree at the window in front of me. If I stare long enough, the voices of the people around me will fade to a background noise, then they’ll stop and leave at the end. But I won’t leave. I tuck a greasy strand of hair behind my ear. They say I’m depressed. I scoff. The only thing keeping me here is hope.…