HeyJaredRylee Joy
I love to write. Well, maybe love isn't the right word for it...
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 10
- Latest publication
- Aug 28, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 8, 2026
Latest issues
I Can’t Stop Writing (opens the original)
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<img alt="" class="sizing-normal" height="481" src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!IhgF!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F1ac4a051-766d-4e03-aeef-7ec2a7426c62_415x481.jpeg"
New Book Blurb! (opens the original)
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Project.suicide BlurbMaylee has died more times than she can remember. It’s hard to keep track when every day ends in a new method. By now, the horror has worn off and the ritual has turned to habit. It isn’t exactly ideal, but it’s better than the alternative—mortality.Living forever is possible. All she has to do is die. She has to be killed or kill herself before the sun sets. If she does dare to wait, even for an extra second, it will all end—the daily violence, the race against the clock, a
The First Chapter of My New Novel (opens the original)
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Author’s note: I wrote this book in a month, and it’s kind of a mess. There are cliches, overly emotional scenes, deaths that should be cut, and paragraphs that serve no purpose except for to hit a word count. That’s because this is draft one. If you have any feedback on this chapter, I’d love it. Positive, negative, encouraging or harsh—I wrote it, so I don’t know what other people will think. I know of many things that I can improve, but I can only get myself so far…Chapter 1I don’t know how l
I'm Not Depressed (opens the original)
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Monday…I’m not depressed. I’m tired.I only slept for three hours last night.I couldn’t sleep because my brain’s rewiredFrom staying up late to write.Tuesday…I’m not depressed. I have a lot going on.My own goals make me feel insaneA book, dress, school, the list goes onI’m just overworking my brain.Wednesday…I feel sad again, but I’m not depressed.I’m a teenager after all.I’m just a bit overwhelmed and little stressedAnd I’m mentally hitting a wall.ThursdayR
Flash fiction: The Girl in the Mirror (opens the original)
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last night the girl in the mirror moved. She moves every night, but this time was different. This time, I wasn’t the one who directed her. It wasn’t my hand that pressed against the glass. It wasn’t my mouth that let out a strangled cry. For years, I have been obsessed with mirrors. It’s not that I particularly like the way I look. I don’t. In fact, most of my time in front of them is spent picking the girl in the mirror apart. Her eyes are too close together. Her stomach sticks out too much. He
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