u/MesotheliomaDisease

We’re trying to help indie creators get their work into the public. It’s hard. Cause rules. Of a lot of subreddits. However, I wanted to see if anyone wanted to get involved? We can’t offer money as of yet, cause we haven’t made any yet. However we do have a few loyal members who share the hell out of the podcast! Just wanted to try and help!

So is that why I woke up in a casket?

Now people are killing each other to get their stories read.

Hey guys, just wanted to slap some advice on this community. Don’t hesitate to reach out to publishers and pros if you’re trying to make a career out of being an author. After publishing my last story, I personally reached out to small bookstores and found that MOST of them offer a program to sell indie authors!!!! So now, I am in the process of getting my book to the store for them to sell!! Where I’m getting with this is, SHOOT YOUR SHOT. Stop second guessing, stop handicapping your own stories!! Let them fly, let them explore the world!!! That being said, if you have a story you want read, we are still taking submissions!!! This train don’t stop!! We’ve already recorded 2 more episodes! So please SHOOT YOUR SHOT!!! I can’t offer much but an audience!! Please reach out!!! We want to help you!!! Happy fourth fellow Americans!!!!

Hey guys, I just wanted to let you all know that there’s a podcast which is narrating and offering critiques for small authors stories! It’s called r/mesoscalepodcast

They’re on YouTube and Spotify.

Hey guys I’m so sorry! We’ve had a technical issue with our current email, so if you can submit them to the Mesoscalepodcast@gmail.com for now, we’d greatly appreciate it! Sorry for the inconvenience!!

Hey guys, just some Tuesday afternoon motivation for you guys. I know it’s no shock, but since I’ve become an author (5-6) years ago, I’ve never had a place of solitude. A place where I know, even if I have just one person check my story out, it means something to them. I know I’ll never be on the level of King, or Lovecraft, or HG Wells. But what I do know is that you guys have my back.

As far as offering help!!!! We have officially finished recording the first episode of our podcast. This is my way of saying thank you! I want to extend the invitation, we have a few episodes curated, ones from this subreddit and only this subreddit. WE WANT EVERYONE TO SUBMIT!!!! We want big stories, small stories, ideas you’ve only briefly discussed! Send it all in! I want to see each of us boosting eachother up! Whether our podcast or just reading others stories on here!! We appreciate all of you, and hope everyone is having a great day!

Thank you for all you guys have done for me! I hope to return the favor!

You can also send submissions via email to Mezoscalepodcast@gmail.com

Hey guys! As I’ve stated before we are kicking off our podcast!! Just wanted to see if anyone has any art they would like to be used? We aren’t quite at the money stage yet, hope to be soon. However we would also like to advertise the authors books as well!

We are really excited to share this experience with all of you guys, and hope it will help you guys to get your names out there!!

This is strictly to help writers of this forum, however I wanted to see if that’d be cool or not. If the idea would take. It would allow the writer a narration and review on the dreaded MesoScale. If you’re interested or have ideas that’ll make it better lmk!

This community is a great place, and I wanna help make it better!

u/JLGoodwin1990
First

https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCreeps/s/ZNsZiAUXYV

Mesoscale rating: 10/10

Banger story which edges on a moral tale with a comparable character similar to Icurus. The story is well written with a good plot and solid descriptions! Story is indicative of a Stephen King type horror, blending natural Lovecraftian cosmic horror, with Stephen King type characters. This author connects amazingly with the audience, and his characters live in the words!

Late Night Laundry ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCreeps/s/5LP6OuwBvY

Mesoscale rating:9/10

LOVE THIS STORY!!!!!!! Solid storyline, not saying anything tho! MUST READ!!! Seriously tho!!!!

u/Sir_Mycoal
Desperate Times for Desperate Meat
https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCreeps/s/hAkzjzy5Cu

Mesoscale rating: 10/10

AMAZING moral tale which rides along with strong moral implications mingling with great descriptions AND A SOLID STORY. This author is greatly composed and demonstrates a great understanding of Grimms tale morality elements, mingled with more adult themes and comparisons.

u/ANovelStory
My Wife Died in her Sleep and I Have No Idea How

Mesoscale rating: 10/10

https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCreeps/s/zMFlDqZL7M

This story lends itself well to comparable themes used by Manga author Junji Ito. I would love to see illustrations from this story done in a style which reflects the essence of the descriptions this author has given us. Amazing written, with great depth into setting and character development! Would recommend if you would like a fun, not deeply heavy in under-toned themes. I really liked it!

If you want a Mesoscale rating or a possible shout out drop your link below ⬇️ I will read it and get to you! There are a couple more I haven’t done yet on my OG post, I’LL GET TO YOU DONT GIVE UP ON ME!!!!!!! I’ve been hammering out stories left and right hahahahaha!!!

The next moments were brief, the creature glared at the peephole. Its eyes bored with fire through the looking glass. I took a major step back, my head started to ache as a soft tapping began emitting from the door. Tap tap tap. Then again, as with the window, the knock continued. Tap tap tap. My companion laid motionless on his newly appointed chair. He had been looking thinner and thinner as time drew forward in long stretches. The skin Saran-wrapped around the edges and contours of his skull. His muscles were no more. His cheek fat, wiped away with no trace. Then there were his eyes, the pale white marbles rolled to stare at his brain, the veins straining. Suddenly both of his irises dropped from their upper position, the pupil focusing like a shutter lens of a camera. 

He was visibly strained. His face faded into a dark red shade, his eyes never leaving me. Then, as if the pressure built to a fever pitch, a blood vessel burst, and blood gushed forward writhing within the membrane of his eye. The blood bubble continued growing, its blood supply seemingly endless as he continued his death glare. Then with a noise as uneventful as it was unpleasant, his sight was taken with a small pop. Viscous, reddened clear liquid drooled from his eye sockets. The sight pushed my attention away. A groan of pained discomfort rolled through my companion’s throat as his body hunched over. 

The monster outside ceased his barrage of knocks, instead it now just tapped again. Tap tap tap tap tap tap. I glared at the door, making my way to Elder Robinson. He flinched at my steps, his veiny eyelids were closed shut as he attempted to naturally hold in the pooled vestiges behind them. His skin clung like leathery tissue to his gaunt face. “Hey, it’s just me.” I spoke in a soft tone so as to not alert him.

The tapping ceased suddenly, as the beam of two headlights broke through the blinds. I put one hand on my companion's shoulder, his body tensed immediately. His voice broke in what sounded like speech, but ultimately it fell short of comprehension. His face stared vainly in the opposite direction of where I stood. “Let’s get up? Can you stand?” His bobbled nod exclaimed his emaciated state. It rolled lazily up then down a couple times.

The headlights outside cut out, soft voices spoke and after the thud of a car door opening then closing, gravel began being crushed underneath someone’s footfalls as they approached our apartment. Now holding up my companion, I glanced out the peephole to see a familiar sight approaching the front door. It was the mission president. His heavy body crushed the rocks beneath him as he approached. I looked around desperately for any sign of the morphing devil, but ultimately the only sign of its being was the thick pool of slobber still seeping through the threshold. I watched as the president leapt up on the deck. The hollow wood echoed out its refrain as he neared the door. Finally he knocked. The booming thuds made us both flinch. 

“Elder? Are you ok? You guys called me? Elder Robinson said you needed help?” I held my breath. Had the president fallen for the doppelgängers trickery? Did he now sit like a cougar in wait for its prey? I hollered back through the door.

“President, there’s something out there. You need to come in, but I need to ask you something first.”

The president halted, his eyes focused on the door. “Yeah? Go ahead.”

“Are you allowed in my apartment?” I impatiently waited for his response, I knew such a question would be common sense for the Mission President.

“Well, no.” Relief filled my chest. As I reached for the door however he said the strangest thing I had heard. “However, when your companion says that someone is in the house with you, I need to come make sure you are okay. Your companion is very worried, he’s in my back seat.”

Dread filled my heart, his words rolled through the stale night air with the chill of a November breeze. I stupidly asked him a question, my arm slowly getting weaker and weaker from the weight of my companion. “What do you mean? Elder Robinson is right here next to me.”

“Huh?” The mission president seemed genuinely confused. “No Elder, your companion, Elder Robinson is in the back seat of my truck.”

My arm now screamed with strain as I attempted to continue holding up my injured companion. “He’s hurt, he needs help!”

“Elder, what are you talking about? He’s fine. Shaken up, but fine. Who's in there with you?” 

“Elder-” before I could finish my thought, a deceased, gurgling voice beside me uttered a familiar nonsensical phrase. “Bastards, stupid, not human! Hello!”

I’ve been seeing this a lot as of lately, and having been on that train myself I feel the need to make sure that I clarify.

To be seen, if your story is read, is not to be heard!!! Meaning, everyone will hold an opinion, an interpretation of your work. As an author we have to understand that sometimes people just won’t get it. I said in my last post there is an audience for everything. If your story rides a niche concept like a trip to San Antonio, your audience is likely to be a very slim minority. However if you want to draw in more people to your content, cast a wide net. More ambiguous the subject, more the people who can relate. To quote Nightmare Alley (BANGER MOVIE WATCH IT NOW!!!!) “people want to be marked, they want to be seen.”

Your story isn’t bad, it’s just a thinner audience than you expected. I’ve put myself through hell and back, attempting new more complex methods of story telling. Sometimes they fall flat. I don’t stop there, repost to another group, if it’s taken down, go to another! The internet provides a niche audience for every writer, it does the leg work by sub categorizing its users! Take advantage of the algorithm!! You will always be your worst enemy, so what better way to change that than by becoming your best friend!

I’ve loved every story I’ve read, each of you have such an amazing talent. Some are gifted in original content, some in storytelling, some in creature design!!! Find your niche, exploit it to make yourself tell the story you want!!! Not the story someone else wants! Good luck with your writing! You guys are amazing!! I hope to see more people in this community dropping their baller stories! Keep writing!!

-Meso (C.W. Sanders)

Ok first I’d like to say u/bunsarereal , total fucking bangers man. This guy has single handedly created his own world! Lovecraft and J.R.R Tolkien would look up to this guy. Great stories!

Next u/Walkerbwitchinghour this guy writes pure gold. He is a vessel to which God himself writes through. His stories are so inspiring to read and share!

Finally u/Inevitable_weather56 this guy has such amazing ideas, the most creatively written and right when you think the story stalls, it’s just gaining altitude to drop some fucking baller lines.

I will read your whole collection, and place it on my MesoScale! You just tell me you want it on the MesoScale and drop the link below. I’ll read it. As of now, we have one 20/10, one 10/10, one 8.5 one 9, multiple 7-8s! Maybe yours will be the next 10!

Like Lovecraft? Like Greek Mythology? Like lord of the rings? Like religion mingled horror? Imagine them all together!!! This is the story for you!!!

https://www.reddit.com/r/Dreading/s/Jy0yxSO93g

Upon the depths I gaze in wonder
Do you even hear the thunder
Water so blue with a tint of green
The most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen 

Within the sea you seem to thrive
Whilst tis I that cannot survive 
If I swim I know I’ll drown
Unable to scream or make a sound

However lovely the song may be
You cannot convince me to join the sea
My longing heart desires you more
But I’ll see you soon upon the shore

Still you sing and beckon my soul
For my body you call and wish to pull
With lips like candy the pinkest shade
Eyes of chocolate the darkest made

Skin of olive against the stale sea
Your voice it calls to beckon me
Alas I cannot for this cannot be true
Your words are betrayal the darkest of coo

That warming tone to carry my legs
Too strong is your magic your evilest ways
The closer I get the fog dissipates 
My love for my darling the doom that awaits

Upon the shale the sweet words from your lips
Black as the night the hair falls to your hips
You reach out your hand the smallest I’ve seen 
Ten months out at sea and where have you been

“I’ve waited so long,” my words seem to tremble
“To hold you and love you, now and forever.”
Nothing is said instead you retreat 
My dearest love is so close almost within reach

The fog of longing disappears for a moment 
Loneliness and desire my greatest opponent
I attempt to drop my outstretched weighted hand
For it is not you who sits upon the sand

It lunges forward and grasps my thin arm
Towards the edge I approach it dragging me on
To what do I owe to meet this dark fate
My love will not know she’ll continue to wait

I will not return for upon this rock I will die
Cursing my eyes for believing this lie
Now I’ll die forever a fate far too long
Knowing I was deceived by the sirens song.

I got up from my bed and tip-toed to the front door. I softly laid my hands flush with the doors surface, and glimpsed through the peephole. It was indeed my mission president. He stood at his average height of five feet ten inches, his gray hair combed neat and orderly to the side, and his newly pressed suit was fitted to his frame. I waited for another knock, I felt an odd desire to let him in. Yet the rule book clearly stated no visitors after dark. In parentheses it was added (Including mission leadership.) The president should’ve known that. So I kept the door closed. “Hello?”

In a distant voice which croaked with the sound of an animal attempting speech, his mouth moved and words bubbled out of sync behind. “Hello?” It asked its tongue clicking audible ticks as it struggled with the word. “Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello?” The words slopped out in rapid succession. “Stupid bastards. Hello?” The insult was much clearer than the greeting. It had been as if it had practiced it for a lot longer than “hello.” He politely knocked again, wrapping his fist three times then stepping back. The way he stepped back, it had been familiar to me. In a sense it was as though I had done it myself a few hundred times. Then it hit me. His body language, the three polite knocks, the “hello.” It was all in the way my companion and I would proselytize. It was mimicking us as if it were an Elder himself. I turned sharply to my companion, his chest drew up heavily with his fear filled breaths. 

“That’s not president.” I spoke as plainly as I could. “That’s not a human.” My companion agreed with a nod. “What or who is it?”

He shrugged, and a barrage of shouts from outside the door knocked my guard down. It yelled, attempting something unfamiliar. Was it trying to accomplish a certain tone? Was it mimicking an emotion? It yelled its confused gibberish. “Hello! Bastards! Not.” It hesitated, the gurgling gravel in its throat producing its predatory tests with its new call. “Human! Stupid bastards! Not human! Hello! Hello! Bastards stupid! Not hello!” I took a glimpse back through the peephole, the sight sending me back a few steps. A cloudy iris of a deep crimson eye filled the fish eye lens. It was attempting to spot its prey. “Bastards stupid!” It shouted unrelentingly. 

I turned back to my companion. “You caused this. You need to fix this!” He shook his head in disbelief. 

“I don’t even know where to start!” That was when the knocks began to pound with significantly more force. As if it was attempting to break the door down. It’s nonsense shouting grew in intensity shaking our door with its sound waves. Being that he had the SIM card, I immediately knew what we had to do.

“Call the mission president! Hurry!” His shaking fingers danced on the phone screen, the call screen popped up as he tapped the speaker phone icon. Immediately I pushed my face against the peephole, watching the figure loom in the shadowed light of the porch. The pounding of his fists, and the screams stopped abruptly and he just stood there. His eyes were watching the peephole with great intensity, and a soft smile slowly dawned upon his face. The call tone echoed hollowly, each beep drawing itself out. Around the fourth tone, the phone picked up and our mission president answered. 

“Hello? Is everything okay?” His voice sounded distant, an echo from the beginning of a cave that we had descended long ago. “Elders?” I peeked outside, the figure grabbed for no phone, its eyes burning with what looked to be the hunger of a starving cougar. “Is everything okay?” My companion picked up the slack.

“There is something outside that looks like you!” His fear cracked his voice at the tail end of his sentence. The president soon realized what my companion said. His voice calmly transcribed our next steps. 

“Don’t open the doors. Make sure everything is locked. Most importantly though don’t talk to it, or eachother.” Quickly I asked him what it was. “Stop talking, it’s listening to you. It’s learning. Practicing your vocal technique. Stay quiet, go start personal study. I’ll be there soon.” The promise sounded far off, like a conditional swear if circumstances permitted. We hung up, not daring to say goodbye. I glanced out the peephole again. The figure was gone! Immediately I ran to the window facing the porch, I rolled up the blinds with excitement, but the figure stood there looming, face pressed firmly against the glass, a misty fog staining the surface around its heads. I gasped, the vocal cords stimulating before my brain could stop it.

The creature drew back from the window, its muscles slowly moving underneath the skin of its face. Slowly the visage of the creature began resembling my face. It began gasping, its vocal tone attempting to master my auditory muscles. Before long, it looked and sounded exactly like I had at the moment of my panic. I jumped for the blinds and pulled the string to drop them shut. It worked perfectly, the blinds landed on the windowsill with a heavy thud, and completely covered the glass. Soft taps began to echo from the window as I fell to the floor. I began feeling the bones in my face, mapping each valley and hill as a harsh reality dawned upon me. It sucked the fat and muscle from my cheeks. I ran to a mirror, and the sight shattered my mind for an instant. My cheeks, once plump with fat and tissue, now sucked to my cheekbones. My brow protruded out a little further, and my adamapple was much more pronounced. It had sucked the soft tissue off my face. The soft taps faltered, and moments later the beating against the door resumed. 

After the volley ended, a new sound clicked in existence. A mechanical turn of the doorknob. Immediately I leapt to my feet, and sprinted out the bedroom door to see my companion opening the front door. He muttered something in his hypnotic trance, the words falling from the air before reaching me. He held out his hands and suddenly collapsed to the floor. I slid behind the front door pulling his leg to where I could get him back in. However a strange sensation of resistance came from the movement. It was a wet strange suction that had popped to an end. Like pulling a lollipop from your mouth.

 I pulled him in, then slammed the door shut. A new volley of furious fists pounded against the door, while the strange voice practiced its new vocal stimulant. The crackling voice box sounded like it was popping with mucus and spittle. Under the door a large puddle of thick clear fluid bubbled from the threshold enveloping my feet. I jumped from the door and pulled Elder Robinson away. I sat him on a chair, turning on the light above his head. His eyes, covered with veiny, nearly transparent flaps of skin fluttered open. His head was wet, slimy drool dripped from his face in thick heavy rivulets. I nodded to him, being sure to put my finger in front of my lips. He nodded his emaciated head. I dropped my hand from his shoulder, and ran to the door. The pounding sound kept coming as I glanced through the peephole. The creature stood three, its emaciated frame shaking violently. It had taken the shape of my companion.

One thing I’ve noticed about writing, (been publishing since 2020) is that some people burn through their idea fast. Whether it’s advice they sought, or just plain burn out. I’ve been there myself, every author has like 40 stories in draft. Sometimes it’s easier to just say “to hell with it, I’m done writing this.” But it ain’t worth giving up. I finished a few of those 40 drafts, some being my most well written and well received stories. Not to say you can’t write a real stinker sometimes, lord knows I have. But, it may only be a stinker to you. Remember you’re your worst critic. What you write may also only make sense to others.

In short, keep writing. I’m working on reading more of your stories. I figure if I can at least help a little. Drop some stories below. When I can I will send you my honest feedback, but remember. My opinion is just mine. Keep writing! I hope this helps!