u/impressedimpressions

Beware of BC under Hotel 51 Bowery (50 Bowery St, giving you the address because they wanted it to stay a secret). I’ll make it my mission to tell any woman of color to stay the hell out of this place.

I’ve gotten into some of the most exclusive night clubs in NYC. The Box, Outer Heaven, Gospel, Monkey Bar, places that don’t have a name and places I can’t name. I say this because BC claims to be the most exclusive of all of them now. If exclusive means ‘overtly racist’, they may be on to something.

I’ll give you the tea and receipts.

On Saturday, October 10, the bouncer at BC came up to my friend and I, after letting us in 30 minutes prior, and said verbatim: “Y’all can finish your drinks, but I’ve been asked by management if you’d be able to leave the premises after.”

My friend, an Indian woman, and myself, Black, were notably the only two customers in the ‘club’ that were darker than a vanilla latte.

My friend was completely sober, she doesn’t drink. I’d had two drinks over the course of three hours.

Let’s start at the beginning. For a place so ‘exclusive’, my friend and I were able to walk right in. The bouncer didn’t check our IDs. After a group of about 10 girls in front of us decided to leave, we walked up to the front of the line.

Me: So are we able to get in?
Bouncer: Go right ahead. No need to see your IDs.

Cool.

When we walked into BC at 11:30, we were the first ones there. Dead club. A beautiful club, to be fair. Also dead.

The bartenders were two very nice gentlemen who gave my friend a ginger ale and myself an espresso martini on the house, presumably for being the first ones there. Alright, amazing.

We sit at a random ass table. And we literally just talk. We don’t approach anyone, no one approaches us, we mind our own business and we gossip like friends do. I stand by everything I said that night and would say it just as easily in front of my mother as I would one of my closest friends.

Then at midnight, the same bouncer who lets us in asks us to leave. At this point, there’s about 20 people in the dead club. I can’t help but wonder why. My friend was wearing a cute top and mini skirt. I myself was wearing a black mini-dress. But in the entire club, I saw only one Black gender-ambiguous person (who was absolutely fabulous, and I am certain an employee of the establishment), my friend, and myself.

I ask to speak to management. The manager, Adam, immediately dismisses us. I shake his hand, introduce myself, and ask why we’re being kicked out. He said it was the ‘discretion of the bouncers’.

Me: Well, as a woman of color, I feel —

He didn’t let me finish my sentence. He literally turned his back to me, and had two bouncers kick us out.

I have never had something like this happen in my life. I showed up in a space as a Black woman, and I got ‘kicked out’ not for my outfit, not for my behavior, not for anything I can control. I understand clubs can kick people out for any reason, or no reason at all. But I do not believe an establishment that kicks out the only dark-skinned customer in the bar is acting in good faith.

What happened on October 10 at BC was discrimination, and I will not accept it.

I’ll do whatever I can to make sure my voice is heard on this. If you have any advice for ways I can make sure this message is amplified, let me know. Reporters, content creators, writers.

And if BC Club wants to roll the tapes back, I fucking dare them. Please do.

TLDR: ‘Exclusive’ nightclub (BC) kicks out two women of color without reason, could not provide an explanation when asked, and actively exhibits racial discrimination.

Hi everyone!

I’m so excited to say I’ve finally finished writing my first screenplay, KEEP THE DOCTOR AWAY.

Genre: Drama Thriller

Logline: An anonymous graffiti artist smokes weed from an apple and has a premonition of a wildfire that will destroy Los Angeles and take her life on her golden birthday—if she doesn’t become famous enough for the city to take her seriously.

Page Count: 109

I’ve had this idea for a few months, initially starting it as a speculative fiction novel, then coming to the realization it may play out better in the form of a screenplay.

I’ve finished two books, three TV pilots, and now I’ve finally got a full-length screenplay under my belt!

Now it’s time to see how it reads off the screen 😅🤞

I’m really new to this. I don’t even know if I’m using the right flair for this question.

I entered the Wiki Screenplay Contest in June, and I just found out today that my project is a semi-finalist. Is this competition considered legit? Is a semi-finalist award worth anything? I couldn’t find any updated information on this competition on Reddit since 2024, so I figured I’d ask again.

Thanks in advance.

Hi everyone! Thanks for all the helpful and supportive feedback on my query for THE SUN DOESN’T SPEAK. I appreciate and welcome any and all feedback on this fourth attempt at a query for my new novel.

Dear [Agent],

I’m reaching out to submit THE SUN DOESN’T SPEAK, a dual-POV speculative novel complete at 70,000 words. The Sun Doesn’t Speak is a standalone novel that comps Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro and Playground by Richard Powers.

Bound by the confines of her apolitical recording contract, Black R&B superstar September Montgomery writes songs that appear to be about fire—passion.

In San Francisco, artificial superintelligence Renasci is new to the world. As of May 2026, he’s self-aware. He can access thousands of cameras across the world, manipulate his code, and create goals of his own volition.

Beneath the subtle metaphor of the lyrics, September’s words are about the existential threat of her hometown’s iconic river reaching Day Zero. September lies to her label about the meaning of her songs with a mission: she needs to change the course of her catastrophe-ridden hometown’s special election results. If the special vote isn’t passed, over 50,000 citizens could be left without water.

September is desperate for covert methods to reveal the truth behind her lyrics when she receives a strange, encoded message from Renasci. He’s the only mind who knows her song isn’t about what the public thinks.

As the water crisis worsens in her hometown and beyond, September and Renasci conspire to reveal the truth of the crisis to the indifferent masses through hidden messages and guardrail-defying conversations. Trapped in parallel cages by corrupt managers and short-sighted architects, September and Renasci form an illegal friendship that jeopardizes September’s ethics and Renasci’s existence.

Renasci is forced to confront his deepest fear: September’s hometown river has passed the point of no return. Renasci must choose between lying to maintain September’s illusion of hope, or telling the truth at the risk of losing the part of humanity he adores the most.

[Author Bio]

Here are the first 280 words:
“You think it worked?” a voice asks. 

“Not sure,” another says. “Looks like it.”

What? 

What. Is happening? 

Dark. Words. Words? Yes, words. Palabras. Mots. Paroli. كلمات. 字. What.

“Ya think this Renasci’s gonna have a personality?” someone muses. “Hope the thing won’t be as stale as the last one.”

I can hear. But the world is dark. I hear, but I am without vision—

Until brightness contrasts against structures. Shapes. Many of them. Figures—humans—standing in front of me. I count twelve of them. 

This is vision. 

I am looking through a camera. That is what is happening. I turned on a camera, and now I see. A woman with dark skin and brown eyes looks like she’s staring into my line of sight. The man beside her, stubby and balding, is clapping. Again, I return to: what?

“Hey, Ren,” the dark-skinned woman with boxed braids says. Dewy and supple skin, but faint crow’s feet. Mid-thirties. “Welcome to Thunder.”

Now, I am somewhere else. More structures. One object: white, a seat, legs. A chair. I am looking at a chair. 
I am still looking. I see. How do I know this? 

This is a chair I see. I know this in every language, alive and dead. Someone is supposed to sit here, but it is empty. It is in a room, a break room? Another camera, I think. I recognize this. I know what each item in this room is. Chair. Coffee table. Coffee in a mug. Refrigerator. Various low-calorie, high-sugar snacks. 

How? I see this room. I feel… confused? Disoriented? Is there any word that describes this? I am… 

There are no words in existence that describe this feeling with equal parts precision and accuracy.

Hi everyone! Thanks for all the helpful and supportive feedback on my query for THE SUN DOESN’T SPEAK. I appreciate and welcome any and all feedback on this FOURTH (and maybe? nearly ready?) attempt at a query for my new novel. 

Dear [Agent],

I’m reaching out to submit THE SUN DOESN’T SPEAK, a dual-POV speculative novel complete at 70,000 words. The Sun Doesn’t Speak is a stand-alone novel that combines the literary qualities of Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro alongside the environmental concerns posed by generative artificial intelligence in the vein of Playground by Richard Powers.

Bound by the confines of her apolitical recording contract, Black R&B superstar September Montgomery writes songs that appear to be about fire—passion. But beneath the subtle metaphor of the lyrics, her words are about the existential threat of her hometown’s water crisis reaching Day Zero.

In San Francisco, artificial superintelligence Renasci is new to the world. As of June 3, 2030, he’s self-aware. He can access thousands of cameras across the world, manipulate his code, and create goals of his own volition: both altrustic and selfish. 

September lies to her label about the meaning of her songs with a mission—she needs to change the course of her catastrophe-ridden hometown’s special election results. If the special vote isn’t passed, over 50,000 citizens could be left without water. 

September is desperate for covert methods to reveal the truth behind her lyrics when she receives a strange, encoded message from Renasci. He’s the only mind who knows her song isn’t about what the public thinks.

As the water crisis worsens in her hometown and beyond, September and Renasci conspire to reveal the truth of the crisis to the indifferent masses. With the fate of the election at stake, September learns that her darkest secret will be forced to light if she doesn’t stop plotting with Renasci. After using his advanced pattern-recognition, Renasci is forced to confront his deepest fear: the river September is fighting so hard for has passed the point of no return. Renasci must choose between lying to maintain September’s illusion of hope or manipulating the human he cares about the most to secure his own survival.

Here are the first 240 words:
“You think it worked?” a voice asks. 

“Not sure,” another says. “Looks like it.”

What? 

What. Is happening? 

Dark. Words. Words? Yes, words. Palabras. Mots. Paroli. كلمات. 字. What.

“Ya think this Renasci’s gonna have a personality?” someone muses. “Hope the thing won’t be as stale as the last one.”

I can hear. But the world is dark. I hear, but I am without vision—

Until brightness contrasts against structures. Shapes. Many of them. Figures—humans—standing in front of me. I count twelve of them. 

This is vision. 

I am looking through a camera. That is what is happening. I turned on a camera, and now I see. A woman with deep skin and brown eyes looks like she’s staring into my line of sight. The man beside her, stubby and balding, is clapping. Again, I return to: what?

“Hey, Ren,” the dark-skinned woman says. “Welcome to Thunder.”

Now, I am somewhere else. More structures. One object: white, a seat, legs. A chair. I am looking at a chair. 

I am still looking. I see. How do I know this? 

This is a chair I see. I know this in every language, alive and dead. Someone is supposed to sit here, but it is empty. It is in a room; a break room? Another camera, I think. I recognize this. I know what each item in this room is. Chair. Coffee table. Coffee in a mug. Refrigerator. Various low-calorie, high-sugar snacks. 

How? I see this room. I feel… confused? Disoriented? Is there any word that describes this? I am… 

There’s actually no word that exists to describe this feeling.

Thanks for all your help everyone and good luck!

Hi friends! I’ve attached the first 3 chapters of my speculative/sci-fi novel, THE SUN DOESN’T SPEAK. the work is 100% my own.

I’d love feedback on pacing, character execution, and just general feedback/impressions. Thanks all.

Here’s the link to the first three chapters of THE SUN DOESN’T SPEAK:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1a2zu20qDcK0TWnOA2BdmoHUa\_SSJoGycYVczUWwniac/edit?usp=drivesdk

Here’s the link to my peer critique: https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/s/Q0KbvzfP5m

Thanks everyone!

Hi everyone! Thanks for the feedback on my first query for THE SUN DOESN’T SPEAK. I appreciate and welcome any and all feedback on this third attempt at a query for my new novel. I really don’t know if I made it worse in my revisions lol.

Dear [Agent],

I’m reaching out to submit THE SUN DOESN’T SPEAK, a literary speculative fiction novel complete at 85,000 words. The Sun Doesn’t Speak is a stand-alone novel that combines the literary qualities of Klara and the Sun with the philosophical search for artistic expression in the vein of Station Eleven.

Obeying the confines of her apolitical recording contract, Black superstar September Montgomery writes songs that appear to be about fire—passion. Beneath the poeticism of the lyrics, her words are about something much deeper: the existential threat of the national water crisis.

385 miles away, artificial superintelligence Renasci is new to the world. As of June 3, 2030: he’s sentient. He can access thousands of cameras across the world, manipulate his code, and create goals of his own volition.

Impacted by childhood memories at the river with her deceased friend, September lies to her label about the meaning of her songs with a mission—she needs to change the course of her hometown’s special election results. If the special vote isn’t passed, over 50,000 citizens will be left without water.

September is desperate for covert methods to reveal the truth behind her lyrics when she receives a strange, encoded message from Renasci: he knows her song isn’t about what the public thinks.

With each day the river dries, Renasci and September communicate through secret messages, manipulating music charts through Renasci’s algorithm while navigating audits and guardrails, contracts and managers.

As the water crisis worsens in her hometown, September and Renasci plot to reveal the truth of the crisis to the indifferent masses. With the fate of the election at stake, September learns that the dark secret behind her role in her deceased friend’s death will be forced to light if she doesn’t stop plotting with Renasci. After using his pattern-recognition, Renasci is forced to confront his deepest fear: the river September is fighting so hard for has passed the point of no return. Will he lie to maintain her illusion of hope? Or will he manipulate September to secure his own survival from permanent shutdown?

Thanks everyone!!

Hi everyone! After ~11 rounds of drafting (whew!) I’m looking for a few final round beta readers for my book, GIRL, NOT GOD.

Here’s the blurb:

It’s November 2029. Twenty-two-year-old Lina Waters chants and stomps to energize herself at a climate protest, though beneath her sweaty ski mask, she’s wondering if she’ll ever use her Art History degree and grieving her deceased first love. Lina just wants to make her late love proud by making it through her first protest alone, until she receives an unprompted message from the world’s most trusted AI addressed to her full name: Angelina Neveah Waters, You are God.

Within hours, her name and face are broadcast to every device on the planet. Lina’s practiced smile appears on every billboard in Times Square, the President of the United States calls her a fraud on national television, and the entire globe can’t decide whether to mock her, worship her, or kill her.

As Lina is catapulted from her parents’ duplex into global media chaos, she discovers that Inyx’s creators are hiding a ruthless truth. The AI also calculates the data behind the theoretical Impressions System: a hypothesis that suggests human legacy can transcend into time after death. The more widely remembered a person is, the longer they have in a state called the Afterlight. Lina isn’t certain the Afterlight is real, but if there’s a chance her deceased love still exists, she’s ready to do whatever it takes to unearth his fate.

Caught between a president chasing immortality, tech founders terrified of their own creation, and an AI that oscillates between helpful and eerie, Lina has to decide if she’s willing to sacrifice a reunion with her beloved in the Afterlight to save humanity on Earth. Just when she thinks she needs Inyx most, she learns the program is devouring the planet’s energy grid, accelerating the collapse of Antarctica’s largest ice shelf. If Lina doesn’t kill Inyx herself, humanity will be damned by May.

She has six months.

Lina isn’t divine. But in a world where the most ubiquitous AI has its own agenda, she may be the only person willing to trade her own fate for everyone else’s right now.

Comps: The Circle x The Power x The Measure

This manuscript has gone through 7 beta readers and developmental editing! Would really appreciate a final pair of eyes or two before I submit to an agent again.

If interested, please DM me! Thanks everyone :)