HeyJaredWritten Works For You, By You
Stories written by you! Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/writtenworksforyoubyyou/support
- Indexed episodes, last 90 days
- 11
- Latest publication
- Sep 28, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 6, 2026
Latest episodes
Luvig van Beethoven - "My Immortal Beloved" (opens the original)
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Tonight's letter was never sent. It was found in a drawer after Beethoven's death, folded, addressed only to "My Angel, My All" — a woman history has never fully identified. Two centuries later, we still don't know who he was writing to. We just know what he needed to say. Pull up a chair. This one's raw in a way you might not expect from him. Got a letter of your own — sent, unsent, or somewhere in between? I read every submission myself: writtenworksforyoubyyou@gmail.com . I'm still listening.
Sullivan Ballou - "My Very Dear Sarah" (opens the original)
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We're opening a new season with something a little different this year: Letters. Real words, written for one person, meant for no one else — until now. Tonight's letter is one of the oldest in the collection: a Civil War major, one week before battle, writing to his wife with the kind of honesty most of us only manage once in a lifetime. He had a feeling he wouldn't come home. He was right. Pull up a chair. This one's short, but it earns every second. Got a letter of your own — sent, unsent, or
The Music on the Hill - Saki (opens the original)
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A bonus, between-seasons stop by the fire. Sylvia has finally gotten what she wanted — her husband, out of the city, settled at his old country house at Yessney. She calls it peace. The hill behind the house might call it something else. Saki was a master of the short and the sharp, and this one is both — quiet, strange, and a little older than it looks. Something in these woods was worshipped once, and it hasn't forgotten. Curl up. Keep the lights low. I'm still listening. Submissions always op
The Beckoning Fair One - Oliver Onions (opens the original)
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Season 2 ends here. Oliver Onions wrote this in 1911. A writer moves into a house to finish his novel. Slowly, politely, reasonably, he loses his mind. There is no ghost at midnight. There is only a presence, a beckoning, a gradual substitution of one voice for another. He believes he is falling in love. He is not. He believes he is still himself. He is not. This is a story about solitude and what it breeds. About the voice that replaces your own when you have been alone too long. Literary, meta
The Body Snatchers - Robert Louis Stevenson (opens the original)
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Season 2 nears its end. We've sat together through coming-of-age and comedy, through philosophy and folk horror, through feminist dread and minimalist survival, through satire and absurdity and fever and laughter. The room has held all of it. Tonight the room grows colder. Robert Louis Stevenson wrote "The Body Snatcher" in 1884, based on real events — the Burke and Hare murders in Edinburgh, where men killed to sell corpses to medical schools. Stevenson strips the Gothic of its romance. No haun
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