HeyJaredTowers of Spider-Haunted Mystery
An occasional newsletter about sword-and-sorcery, historical fantasy, writing, and publishing.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 11
- Latest publication
- Sep 28, 2026
- Audience
- Checking…
- Earliest in this view
- Jul 3, 2026
Latest issues
Know Thyself (opens the original)
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According to ancient writers, three maxims were carved into the stones of the forecourt to the Temple of Apollo at Delphi. “Nothing in Excess” and “Swear No Oaths” were the first two. The third was “Γνῶθι σεαυτόν” — “Gnôthi se autón”, or “Know Thyself”.<a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!fIYJ!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com
The Early Novels (opens the original)
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<img alt="" class="sizing-normal" height="1096" src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!Pccl!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F81740e9b-0fe5-4ee9-8cd6-794135f7c2df_4080x3072.
Brothers of the Serpent (opens the original)
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Stirring from my hiatus a bit; one of the things I’ve been doing is gathering up my monster stories — and I’m using “monster” loosely, here — and putting them together in a single volume. Brothers of the Serpent contains five stories, ranging from the first orc tale, “Amarante”, to the Grimnir story, “Beasts of Waste and Desolation”, to a cozy mouse tale with an eerie cast of goblins, “The Goblin Market”. The other two are “Crawl”, which is my take on a D&D dungeon outing, and “At the Gate of Bo
A Hiatus . . . (opens the original)
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Friends, I am burned out. The well is dry; neither flesh nor spirit is willing to dig any deeper to find errant words. I think it’s been coming on for about a year and a pinch. Everything creative has been getting harder, more like work. I, of course, blamed a myriad of things (which I may or may not have along with ferocious burn out) — ADHD, the market . . . right down to calling myself a mimic rather than a writer.Truth is: I got nothing left in the tanks. Not even fumes.So, I’m going to step
As the Year Wanes (opens the original)
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August is well underway; the leaves of trees around me have started their shift into a paler shade of green — harbingers of the coming Autumn. There’s still heat. Wet, oppressive heat. But the days are getting shorter, and the heat hits differently . . . like a sun god who stands upon the threshold of the sere and yellow leaf.<a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!Pt7D!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s
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