Megan Cutler

1 week ago | megancutler.net | Megan Cutler

Everything is cake nowadays right? Well writing a novel is a lot like making a layer cake. I’ve used a lot of metaphors to talk about writing. The one that crops up most often is that writing and publishing is a lot like a mountain. If you look at the whole thing from the start, it can feel daunting, an impossibly high and steep slope. And it can be difficult to know where to begin. Breaking the process down into its most basic pieces makes a lot easier to handle and consider.

2 weeks ago | megancutler.net | Megan Cutler

For 2024, I decided to devote my prompt writing time to a novel. The twist is that the novel plot will be generated entirely by the writing prompts I chose to use for the project – which were rolled randomly using my trusty dice and a few online prompt lists. You can find the Table of Contents here. For Chapter 19, the prompt was: “she tried to forget him but never could.”I tried something a little different with this chapter. That’s what these writing prompt sessions are great for, actually.

3 weeks ago | megancutler.net | Megan Cutler

I spent a significant amount of my life avoiding certain activities because I was nervous about messing up. Maybe this is one of the reasons why they say ‘perfection is the enemy of good.’ If you’re afraid to try something just because you won’t do it right the first time, you miss out on a lot of experiences. It took me a long time to discover why I was so afraid of messing up. Now that I understand the early childhood criticisms that caused me to fear mistakes, the reality frustrates me.

1 month ago | megancutler.net | Megan Cutler

For 2024, I decided to devote my prompt writing time to a novel. The twist is that the novel plot will be generated entirely by the writing prompts I chose to use for the project – which were rolled randomly using my trusty dice and a few online prompt lists. You can find the Table of Contents here.

1 month ago | megancutler.net | Megan Cutler

Watching her reflection assume a stranger’s appearance turned Clara’s dream into a nightmare. It started with her hair, which was easy enough to stomach. In fact, Clara watched with fascination as her pale locks – bright even in the bathroom’s dim illumination – expanded like seedling tendrils seeking sunlight. Within moments, the silken strands brushed her shoulders. They assumed an orange tinge as they continued to cascade down her back, forming the sort of ringlets she had always admired.