GuestReader88:

When you charge #1.5 per word for a job, how would you deliver quality submissions? This rate should even be an insult to any writer that knows their onions.

4 naira per word should be the minimum unless your submissions are poor.

Xavier5:
From the look of things, you're going with a hybrid POV --- a blend of first person POV and third person POV. Personally, for the purpose of orderliness, I will suggest, you state the character who's POV your telling the story from whenever you're using first person POV, and when your doing third person POV (which is your perspective), you should specify it. In these case you could go with the term, General POV or whatever term seems catchy to you.

Aside that, interesting story 🙃. This is my first time reading royal romance though. Btw, I'm suspicious of the queen. Her 360 degree change in character is suspicious, and your synopsis --- which includes the prince willing to lose his royalty for love --- adds credence to that. That woman is definitely cooking.



#Xavier

silverlinen:
Okay, now this is something different

Write more

Xavier5:


Peace offering accepted. Now let me go and read 😌🙃


#Xavier

Bam17:
For my first story...

"Have mercy, Father, because I have sinned. I have done many terrible things that I am not proud of, and I deeply regret them." These were my exact words as I knelt outside the confessional.

  For someone who was not a Christian, I didn't think God would answer my prayer. I had never even thought he existed until the previous day...

  "I've wasted many souls," I gulped, contemplating whether telling this man was the right thing to do. "Many souls, and I humbly regret," I said remorsefully, preparing myself to bear whatever came next.

  I wasn't born a killer. In fact, I used to be a very sweet boy. The world had turned me cold, and I was left on the streets to fend for myself. The outside world was not as it appeared. I was at the mercy of whatever I could find on the streets until a man picked me up. He appeared good at the time, and I thought I had found my savior. But he wasn't my saving grace. He was the antithesis of what a Samaritan could be called—a monster disguised as a sheep. His heart was cold, very cold, and full of darkness. He was merciless, a sworn partner of the underworld prince who tortured people for fun. Men. Women. And even children who knew nothing. These were all people who had committed no crimes that warranted the death penalty. I tried to flee several times, but he always managed to reclaim me. He was a madman; a demented beast who spent his days sawing people in half. I soon became a part of his activities, abducting people and using them as we pleased. We gave each of our victims a slow, painful death, ensuring that they suffered before entering the great beyond. We were highly possessed. It was how mad we were, and how delusional. Not a single person could tell what we did. Even the cops could not identify us. We appeared charming in society, but were ruthless in our blood. One could liken us to beasts. Manslaughterers—and even organ harvesters. The latter was also part of the job. We sold every organ we claimed and profited handsomely, but we could not brag about our wealth because of the horrible life we lived—

  I didn't know when my tears dropped; I'd finished recounting my ordeal. I bet the Reverend was surprised. My confession must have shaken him to the core. A heavy load was lifted off of me, and I felt a sense of inner peace. At the very least, I was going to pay for my sins, comforted by the knowledge that I had told the world what I had done. I was prepared to face the law. I didn't want to be a vagabond anymore, so I waited for the cops to come.

  My atrocities were enormous, and I never imagined God would forgive me for shedding innocent blood. Just then, a light shone on me, and I looked intently, completely perplexed. The cries of the restless spirits that followed me everywhere had stopped; they had vanished. I cried bitter tears, hoping for salvation, but I knew there was no escaping this—I was going to pay dearly for my sins.

.
.
.

By the way, I still haven't found the perfect title

Xavier5:


Giving me the Annabelle, Chucky and Imaginary vibe 😏.

Beautiful stories you have going, but I don't know if it's just me, the stories seem incomplete. We deserve closures on them 🙃.

Amazing stories btw 🙌.



#Xavier

Babbyad:
I'm enjoying stories... Is there a way you can compressed all to PDF series by series. Then sell.

ProjectsCityNG:

silverlinen:
Okay, now this is something different

Write more

silverlinen:




I dey with you always

Bam17:
For my first story...

"Have mercy, Father, because I have sinned. I have done many terrible things that I am not proud of, and I deeply regret them." These were my exact words as I knelt outside the confessional.

  For someone who was not a Christian, I didn't think God would answer my prayer. I had never even thought he existed until the previous day...

  "I've wasted many souls," I gulped, contemplating whether telling this man was the right thing to do. "Many souls, and I humbly regret," I said remorsefully, preparing myself to bear whatever came next.

  I wasn't born a killer. In fact, I used to be a very sweet boy. The world had turned me cold, and I was left on the streets to fend for myself. The outside world was not as it appeared. I was at the mercy of whatever I could find on the streets until a man picked me up. He appeared good at the time, and I thought I had found my savior. But he wasn't my saving grace. He was the antithesis of what a Samaritan could be called—a monster disguised as a sheep. His heart was cold, very cold, and full of darkness. He was merciless, a sworn partner of the underworld prince who tortured people for fun. Men. Women. And even children who knew nothing. These were all people who had committed no crimes that warranted the death penalty. I tried to flee several times, but he always managed to reclaim me. He was a madman; a demented beast who spent his days sawing people in half. I soon became a part of his activities, abducting people and using them as we pleased. We gave each of our victims a slow, painful death, ensuring that they suffered before entering the great beyond. We were highly possessed. It was how mad we were, and how delusional. Not a single person could tell what we did. Even the cops could not identify us. We appeared charming in society, but were ruthless in our blood. One could liken us to beasts. Manslaughterers—and even organ harvesters. The latter was also part of the job. We sold every organ we claimed and profited handsomely, but we could not brag about our wealth because of the horrible life we lived—

  I didn't know when my tears dropped; I'd finished recounting my ordeal. I bet the Reverend was surprised. My confession must have shaken him to the core. A heavy load was lifted off of me, and I felt a sense of inner peace. At the very least, I was going to pay for my sins, comforted by the knowledge that I had told the world what I had done. I was prepared to face the law. I didn't want to be a vagabond anymore, so I waited for the cops to come.

  My atrocities were enormous, and I never imagined God would forgive me for shedding innocent blood. Just then, a light shone on me, and I looked intently, completely perplexed. The cries of the restless spirits that followed me everywhere had stopped; they had vanished. I cried bitter tears, hoping for salvation, but I knew there was no escaping this—I was going to pay dearly for my sins.

.
.
.

By the way, I still haven't found the perfect title

Bam17:
Dedicating this to God first of all, and then to my awesome friend, Xavier5. Dude has always been there for me. I love you big time!

Oh, and do check out his books He's an amazing writer

Babbyad:
Jessica Duru is your penname right.

Babbyad:
Your Amazon e-book link is not opening...

ProjectsCityNG:



When the financial rewards is far, the motivation to write is hard to find. You have to fight to find the motivation one way or the other !

Babbyad:
Your Amazon e-book link is not opening...

ProjectsCityNG:



That stage is excessive fatigue and burn out. In such cases, you should go off writing for extensive period and have plenty of sleep. See when such happens and you feel that reluctance after rest, you need to do it like you are learning afresh and find that initial motivation like telling yourself it pays the bills. You will be broke without working etc. to psyche yourself up

ProjectsCityNG:



Yes na. Otherwise Migraine would kill you. At times I write 400-500 words, walk away come back hours. It's the brain telling you it is over stressed but your lack of sleep. Your brain is telling you that you are over worked and should go easy

ProjectsCityNG:



Yes na. Otherwise Migraine would kill you. At times I write 400-500 words, walk away come back hours. It's the brain telling you it is over stressed but your lack of sleep. Your brain is telling you that you are over worked and should go easy