Despite winter, my sun porch is warm.

So warm, Mause and I are crashed in a pile of concentrated sunbeams. She sprawls across the floor as if the intensity has disentigrated her bones; a puppy puddle. I slump in a lawn chair packed into what is usually winter cold-storage. It’s early February and instead of cabin fever from endless gray skies and constant lake-effect snow, I’m mainlining vitamin D from a blazing sun warming a bank of south-facing windows.

Sipping coffee, I sigh. My afternoon snack — a bagel with cream cheese and a smear of lingonberry jam — tastes indulgent. I only buy lingonberries during the winter solstice season in anticipation of making a big batch of Swedish meatballs. They were so good, I made two batches, one for a Yule party and another for a decadent meal with Todd. The remaining lingonberry jam has become part of afternoon coffee or midnight tea, depending upon my day.

The snow and the jam are receding, and I feel sad. Sad because I know I won’t buy more lingonberry jam until next winter solstice and I’ll miss the unique tart flavor. I’ll have to find another treat. Sad, also, because the snow has not been right this year. It echos the changing weather patterns of the Great Lakes Region, as expressed in the Pulitzer Center’s Connected Coastlines report:

Duluth is perched mid-continent at the western tip of Lake Superior, and many residents are stoically proud of the harsh winters that define the place. “It keeps the riff-raff out,” they assure each other. But in recent years the weather has become almost unrecognizable. According to Kenny Blumenfeld, senior climatologist with the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources, winters tend to be warmer, snowfall is getting heavier, and summer thunderstorms bring more rain. The disruption begets uneasiness; people who have developed coping mechanisms for extreme cold and plenty of snow now don’t know what to expect.

~ Stephanie Hemphill, April 29, 2020

As much as I’m enjoying my bones soaked in unseasonable sunshine and a break from daily scooping, I wonder what this all means. But then I remember that I’m asking the wrong question. I shift and think what is happening. It’s a recent practice I’m cultivating as a Hag (a woman in the second half of life and my choice of symbol based on my studies with Sharon Blackie in her Hagitude program). Dream tending has led me into familiar depths and my mentors remind me not to ask for meaning but to ask for understanding. I’m yet a student, an apprentice, a learner. I’ve yet to a-ha the difference, but nonetheless, I’m practicing the question, what is happening.

My journey thus far has led me to depth psychology (not to be confused with my recent commitment to positive psychology for the sake of addressing mental health in my veteran community). I’m having fun and enlightening and confounding conversations with my son. When I called to talk to him about the positive psychology workbook I bought to use with my Warrior Sisters, he was delighted. He uses his Masters in IO Psychology in his work for Epic. He says his specific role as a BFF to accounts is like that of a coach, using positive psychology.

However, he wondered if depth psychology was outdated Jungian theory. He encouraged me to explore and understand its roots and current place in the field of psychology. It turns out, IO psychologists like my son are in a different world of psychology. His work does not include psychoanalysis. Depth psychology is modern, current, and relevant; it’s a completely different field and yes, it is based on Jung’s work in symbols as a foundation. The reason I’m so drawn to depth psychology is its familiarity.

Depth psychology, according to Susan Rowland, is writing.

For years, I’ve tried to understand and articulate what we are doing here at Carrot Ranch in a collective way. Yes, the weekly challenge is about making literary art accessible, but what is literary art? According to Pacifica Graduate Institute (where Susan Rowland teaches), “Depth Psychology is an interdisciplinary endeavor, drawing on literature, philosophy, mythology, the arts, and critical studies.” Literary art is the process of going deep. Depth psychology defines the deep as psyche. According to Jung, the mind has two distinct depths: the personal unconscious and the collective unconscious. Further, the Hagitude program I’m absorbing explains the unconscious as the Sacred. The Sacred is Nature. We can experience the Sacred by snowshoeing or kayaking or walking outside or we can experience the Sacred through the realm of dreams — the imaginal.

All these terms swirl about in my head like a friendly flock of chickadees. What I know from experience is that when I write, I go deep. This is what I began to understand as raw literature; the result of writing from the deep places of one’s mind. What if inspiration is the call of the psyche for each of us to remember who we are? According to depth psychologists, this is the purpose of dreams — to remember who we are and to access the Sacred. It makes me wonder if all along, my desire to serve others in a literary community has been to reconnect to Nature. When I learned about the existence of a Masters Program in Psychology and Creativity, I was struck by how it aligned with the forces that drive me: “…deep purpose, enlivened creativity, and devoted service.”

Holy smokes. That’s exactly what I want Carrot Ranch to foster in others. The mission is to make literary art accessible in 99 words. I better understand what I’ve meant by accessibility. I want writers to engage with creative writing in such a way that it gives us purpose, engages our creativity, and leads us to serve humanity through what we write. I want this for all writers not just experienced writers, or educated writers, or whatever limiting label we can apply. Writing is a tool of exploration and I’ve known that tool to be healing. I’ve never wanted Carrot Ranch to be “the best of the west” or “serious writers only.” Writing our individual stories weekly is an exercise in accessing our personal unconscious; submitting our personal stories to form a collection is a creation of our collective unconscious.

Literary art is also read and here is where we serve humanity with deep reflections. The collections have always been inclusive. Because raw literature does not require mastery of writing craft. We practice going into the deep and bringing something back. Every story does that no matter how well one articulates a sentence or punctuates dialog. Every story reflects some aspect of the prompt. And going where the prompt leads is daring to go into the psyche. When people read the collections, its not the “best” stories that make the impact; it’s the impact of the whole because it speaks from and to the collective unconscious.

We are modern-day mythmakers seeking to understand our world one prompt at a time.

A world in peril. Through depth psychology I have also come to understand that Science without the Sacred is out of balance. Science deals in signals, hard facts and empirical evidence. The Sacred deals in symbols. Nature is the Sacred. Humans exist because nature exists, not the other way around. The more advanced we become through industry and technology, the more energy we consume. Energy consumption is marvelous — it gives us lights to see by, warmth for our homes, healing for our hospitals. But energy consumption has a shadow. Climate change. The greater our reliance on energy consumption, the greater the shadow grows. We need more than science. We need the sacred. We need nature.

Reconnecting to the Sacred, transforming the Self — this is the work of tending dreams and writing fiction.

My deep dive is done for now. My smear of lingonberry jam is gone. Until next time. Sweet dreams and deep writing!

February 13, 2023, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a smear of jam. Is it across a slice of toast, a white shirt, or something unexpected? The jam could be the focus or detail that ads a twist. Who are the characters with the jam and where are they situated in space and time? Go where the prompt leads!

1. Submit by February 18, 2022. Please use the form below if you want to be published in the weekly collection. The Collection publishes on the Wednesday following the next Challenge. Stories must be 99 words. Rules & Guidelines.
2. Writers retain all copyrights to any stories published at Carrot Ranch.
3. A website or social media presence is not required to submit. A blog or social media link will be included in the title of any story submitted with one.
4. Please include your byline with your title on one line. Example: Little Calves by Charli Mills. Your byline can be different from your name.
5. Please include the hashtag #99WordStories when sharing either the Challenge or Collection posts on social media.

Optimism needs care and feeding. It’s as fragile and mighty as a chickadee faced with enduring heaps of winter snow. They dart from one bare tree to another in search of the seeds they need to sustain them. Where they go on snowy days, I do not know. Optimism can slip away like that, too. A seed here, a seed there, and then hard times force me to shelter, forgetting the hunt for sustenance.

Is optimism necessary?

My answer is yes. Optimism gives me hope for the future despite the past. Optimism gives me roots in the here and now; a practice of mindfulness. When I think of possibilities, I can overcome problems. Like where to find seeds in sparse times. Optimism is why I believe in unicorns.

I created a Unicorn Room because I needed space for optimism. I craved a sanctuary where I could breathe, stretch, talk to the Ancestors, and map novels. If unicorns exist they exist in the form of possibilities worth seeking. First I painted the room pale pink, then I filled it with things to brighten the shine of optimism.

Magic unfolded in the way of synchronicity. Unicorns emerged. The first miracle of the room was completing my MFA. The second came when I overcame a spinal injury to cultivate yoga again. During dark times when optimism flitted dim like a hunkered chickadee, I learned to breathe through it and sit with my fears. When optimism rose, so did synchronicity. My room now houses treasure like a magic wand from my dad who is a mountain man (apparently he’s discovered Amazon from his remote high desert ranges). And a glass globe from Africa to ward off the evil eye. Not that I had been thinking about such things, but the gift is from an octogenarian whom I admire greatly. She once danced with Katherine Dunham and in a voodoo troupe with a python. My unicorns are highly protected.

When I think of the magic of unicorns, I consider the words of an American author an activist:

“No pessimist ever discovered the secrets of the stars, or sailed to an uncharted land, or opened a new heaven to the human spirit.”

Helen Keller

I want to explore and discover and never stop learning. My over-arching goal in life is to be happy. Optimism can be cultivated and shared. Though the Vet Center has abandoned our local veteran community, I made sure my Warrior Sisters stayed connected. This year, while no offers to help us have emerged, I’ve purchased materials to spend the year focusing our veteran spouses’ group on developing an optimistic mindset. It’s something these long-haulers of caregiving to Vietnam veterans know about naturally. They are resilient. But they also deserve to be lifelong learners, too.

It’s a long and rich article, but you too can join us in our journey to optimism by learning more about positive psychology. I’ve never been interested in the Pollyanna kind of fake optimism because the authentic mindset is real. It’s work to cultivate, but worth the effort. After all, there are unicorns of possibility at the end of the mindfully constructed rainbow.

Even the earth holds onto hope. If Greta Thurnberg demanded of me an answer to what I’m doing about climate change, I’d take her to meet my Anishinaabe friend, Kathy Smith (holding the Water Walkers’ Eagle STaff). To witness a tribe regain their teachings is like watching a buckaroo saddle up a horned horse. It seems like magic but it is really the hard work of optimism to follow the path of caring for earth like kin.

We need to find our way back to center as humanity, seed by seed. In a brilliant book that reminds us of the power of hope, Celeste Ng (pronounced “ing”) has released her latest novel, Our Missing Hearts. Recommended by my mentor, Sharon Blackie, I didn’t hesitate to select the novel for my current ENG 103 class at Finlandia University. Listening to Celeste’s beautiful writing on audiobook has become an optimism tonic for me weekly. I’m also blessed with some deep thinking and feeling students this semester.

I’m buoyant with possibility in the uncertainty of right now.

A note that might bring relief or joy to some who blog — I’m lifting the no-links ban on the Challenge posts. It fizzled as an experiment. Please keep in mind, not all writers at Carrot Ranch are bloggers and I do not consider this space to be a blog but rather a literary community. There are intersections between the Ranch, the Keweenaw, and the publishing industry at large that remain unseen but give us all possibilities for connecting through literary art.

If you are going to share your links, please add meaning through thoughtful discourse. This is not a blog hop. Do not get your pants in a bunch if others do not go to your blog (this is not a blog hop). We have a strong and loyal readership at the Ranch who genuinely enjoy the stories and many have indeed found their way to your blogs and books. You are well-served to promote outside this community to find new readers (especially your specific target readers) through your participation here. For example, if you are published in the collection, add that to your author credibility and use it to bring new readers to your blogs or websites.

Keep our community space accessible and optimistic for all literary enthusiasts. Our weekly challenges are meant to cultivate a weekly creative writing practice and our collections remain fascinating curations of endless creative expression. It is a simple but optimistic premise for writers. We make literary art accessible in 99 words. Go write, read, and shine!

January 23, 2023, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that is optimistic. Feel free to explore optimism in all its forms from a positive mindset to toxic positivity. Is it a heartfelt story or a devious one? So much wiggle room for the optimistic writer. Go where the prompt leads!

1. Submit by January 28, 2022. Please use the form below if you want to be published in the weekly collection. The Collection publishes on the Wednesday following the next Challenge. Stories must be 99 words. Rules & Guidelines.
2. Writers retain all copyrights to any stories published at Carrot Ranch.
3. A website or social media presence is not required to submit. A blog or social media link will be included in the title of any story submitted with one.
4. Please include your byline with your title on one line. Example: Little Calves by Charli Mills. Your byline can be different from your name.
5. Please include the hashtag #99WordStories when sharing either the Challenge or Collection posts on social media.

Submissions are now closed. Find our latest challenge to enter.

Monday, October 10, 2022, is the second Indigenous Peoples’ Day in the US. Social justice organizations around the world are recognizing the harm of colonization and cultural genocide on Indigenous populations. My classes are tasked with reflection on what it means to belong to a place. How do we overcome othering and welcome the contributions of groups, nations, and regions around the people?

Today, I walk in the company of my bone, spirit, and land ancestors. I think about belonging through kinship and presence. Today, I am present to the water. It is the third day of a 92-mile People of the Heart Water Walk.

Nga-zhichige Nibi onji. When I get tired, when I have less sleep and more responsibilities, when it’s my turn to carry the water, I say, “I will do it for the water.” My t-shirt speaks our petition and commitment. My skirt flows so the land of Turtle Island recognizes me as a woman, a vessel for water. Water is life and women are the water bearers.

This is my fourth Water Walk, although I did different work for the water in 2020 because of Covid. Actually, I seem to do different yet similar work each year. I’m learning to go with the flow. We are communal organizers, working as a collective of women under the sacred teachings of the Anishinaabekwe from Keweenaw Bay. We walk through their Ceded Territory. The Keweenaw. My Rocky Spine.

For the first time, I wear a traditional ribbon skirt. My friend, writer, and quilt artist, Sue Spitulnik, designed and created the skirt with material we found in a quilt shop in Ithica, New York. She appliqued two chickadees over colorful ribbons. The joyful birds represent kinship and friendship; they express joy in totality. I feel uplifted, wearing my skirt, Water Walker t-shirt, and hiking boots.

This year, Finlandia University took on the role of feast hosts our first night. I’ve been talking about the walk to my students as we read the Fire Keeper’s Daughter. When I was asked to write something about the Water Walk to our Finlandia community, this is what I wrote:

The People of the Heart came together after the devastation of the Father’s Day Floods to form community around the sacredness of water. We don’t really have organizers, but we look to the Anishinaabekwe to guide us collectively in their teachings. We all do the work for the water, and like water, we flow where needed. The Water Walk is a sacred ceremony open to all faiths and people. Women lift and carry the water in a copper vessel from one point on the journey to the next. A Water Walk is the only time an Eagle Staff walks behind (the water). Men or women can carry the Eagle Staff; only women can carry the Water. Women wear skirts so the land recognizes us in our work. Nga-zhidchige nibi onji (I will do it for the water). Finlandia holding a feast, anyone donating or preparing food, all of this is part of doing the work for the Water.

Many social injustices center around Water and we walk to speak for the Water, for those harmed by toxins in the Water, for our Land Ancestors, and for those not yet born. Water is life.

The People of the Heart Water Walk takes place over a three-day weekend aligned with Indigenous People’s Day. In the beginning, IPD did not yet exist. We chose fall because we walk narrow, busy, and scenic byways that cut across Anishinaabe Ceded Territory, and traffic is lighter. We educate people along the route with the images of the attached brochure. We walk 92 miles in three days, passing off the vessel from one woman to the next. We walk in relay but the Water never stops until we bring it to a ceremonial close of the day (or, reach our final destination). We feast and rest with the communities living where we walk. Typically, we gather pre-dawn and start walking as the sun rises.

Anyone can join the Water Walk at any time. Come for an hour, a day, all three days. We have a system of leapfrogging walkers in relay with vehicles and I can take walkers back to their vehicles. I commit to all three days, assigning my ENG 103 C and 104 B classes to attend Finlandia’s Indigenous Peoples Day event and using the Water Walk in writing and reflection lessons. We are reading Fire Keeper’s Daughter in ENG 103 and The Four Pivots in ENG 104 and the Water Walk is a way to deepen our understanding of culture, Ceded Territory, and social justice. I hope our students, faculty, staff, and trustees can join us as we feast and rest and share community. We welcome everyone’s prayers.

Chi Miigwech to Finlandia University!

C. Mills 2022

We are fortunate to learn from the Water Walkers who walked with Grandma Josephine. She was a grandmother who founded the water protectors movement along with other women from the four directions of Turtle Island (North America). We learn as we walk. Like writing. Practice makes progress, not perfection.

You can learn about our Water Walk and traditional protocol in this brochure we distribute along our route:

I invite you to ponder how precious water is today.

October 10, 2022, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that expresses the idea, “for the water.” You can find inspiration in water protection movements. Is it a celebration or a dark dystopian warning? Consider your place and the bodies of water that have shaped you. Go where the prompt leads!

1. Submit by October 15, 2022. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form. The Collection publishes on the Wednesday following the next Challenge. Rules & Guidelines.
2. Carrot Ranch only accepts stories through the form below. Accepted stories will be published in a weekly collection. Writers retain all copyrights.
3. Your blog or social media link will be included in your title when the Collection publishes.
4. Please include your byline which is the name or persona you attribute to your writing.
5. Please include the hashtag #99Word Stories when sharing either the Challenge or Collection posts on social media.

Submissions are now closed. Find our latest challenge to enter.

It’s my last day on the farm and I survived the robotic appliances. Namely DJ Roomba — the vacuum shaped like a giant gray cough drop.

DJ comes to life at precisely 11:00 p.m. EST with a pulsing green light, three whirs, and an announcement that sounds like robotic balderdash. After the first night, I learned to be upstairs with the dogs by 11 (after the dogs woke me at 5 a.m. every morning, going to bed early was less of an issue).

Having a robot clean the floors nightly feels like the cartoon Meet the Jetsons has come to life. The quick sequence of thumps and bumps downstairs was unnerving to me, at first. It sounded like someone was in the house. Well, yes, someone — DJ — was in the house. The banging sounded endless.

The next morning, I discovered DJ Roomba had locked me out of the (only) bathroom in the house. Fortunately, the door wasn’t locked, it was blocked with a bamboo floor mat. Once I pushed inside, I found the round vacuum guarding the toilet. What sounded like low growls was a dying battery. I picked up DJ like rescuing a turtle on the road and set the cleaner on the recharge station.

Sometimes, DJ would suddenly spin to life and nip at my heels while I tried to work at the dining room table before redocking. One morning, I heard the Roomba speaking gibberish with a plaintive, “Help,” spoken last. It’s unnerving to hunt for a lost robot. I found DJ on the porch, trying to devour my snowboot. I had to pull the lace out of the vacuum’s maw.

This morning, while talking to one of the goat milkers, I heard the gibberish followed by a cry for help and we were both startled. “It’s the robotic vacuum,” I said. As if that would put anyone at ease. I found DJ lurking under a kitchen cabinet, and I yelled, “Roomba, go home!” A green eye flashed at me and I could see DJ was stuck. Or it was a trap. Again, I pulled out the cleaner and held it like a snapping turtle.

I’m not keen on appliances that talk to me. I prefer people. Is that bias? Am I an electronicist? Is it my fear of the unknown or unfamiliar? I grew up watching Rosie clean for the Jetsons and sass the family she worked for. You’d think I’d be prepared to open my heart and mind to robots.

But I’m not there, yet.

People. I have a great appreciation for the people in my life. And animals. And trees, water, birds, nature. I even feel a kinship with rocks. So what is hard to accept about a robot who cleans my daughter’s floors every night without a paid wage or protest? I will extend a bit of gratitude to DJ Roomba. At least I didn’t have to sleep.

Now, I’d like to offer a huge wave of gratitude to the writers at Carrot Ranch who pulled together to offer our community encouragement and entertainment during the lockdowns of the pandemic.

When we went into our first lockdown globally, we all felt the unease of the times and the uncertainty of what next. I reached out to writers in our community who I thought would be open to writing columns from their areas of interest and knowledge. Kid and Pal (the beloved Carrot Ranchers who remind us that characters are people, too) inspired their writer to create an imaginary watering hole at an imaginary ranch for all the characters we writers imagine. The Saddle Up Saloon was born and took on a life of its own with the help of other writing hands.

I’m so grateful to write among so many talented people who also agreed to engage our community further in difficult times. Much has changed in the past few years for all of us. You’d have to be a Roomba on Mars to not notice. But what hasn’t changed is our need to encourage one another in this writer’s journey we share. I want to thank the writers who took on columns and a Saloon during a pandemic.

H.R.R. Gorman (US) not only delves into the past and what relevancy it maintains for us, but H. is also unafraid to broach difficult situations within our greater writing community. H. led us in a moving living tribute to a dying friend with a special Rodeo Contest and Fundraiser for Sue Vincent who crossed the veil in 2021.

Anne Goodwin (UK) is an expert book reviewer and if you want to stay current on contemporary literature, follow her reviews. She kept us informed on reading choices while also drafting a pandemic sequel to her latest novel, Matilda Windsor is Coming Home.

Bill Engleson (CA) knows film noir and how to relate it to modern times. Known for his tight storytelling in short fiction, which has garnered him numerous literary wins, Bill can also weave a thorough review of films many of us may not know existed.

Ann Edall-Robson (CA) writes to preserve a way of life that honors the quiet spirits of her pioneering ancestors and the Canadian ranching community she calls home. Ann knows cattle, horses, and when to say, “Whoa. Stop. Back up,” to catch stories in photographs. Her work inspires other writers to listen within.

Susan Spitulnik (UK) knows the veteran experience from multiple perspectives. Not only is she currently working on a series about a wounded veteran and his refound love, but Sue also participates in a veteran writing group. She shares her stories with compassion, realism, and authenticity.

Norah Colvin (AU) is an early childhood educator who uses her knowledge to build educational materials at readilearn. She also uses her experience to craft stories with relatable characters, often from a child’s perspective. Norah is The One who showed up at Carrot Ranch in its earliest beginnings to form a global community.

Sherri Matthews (UK) writes compelling memoir as someone who has lived on both sides of the pond in the UK and the US. She understands language and cultural differences and bridges the gaps with profound insight. Throughout the years, Sherri has been an encouraging writing partner, sharing the ups and downs of the writer’s life with me.

Ruchira Khanna (US) is a Reiki Masters as well as a novelist who crafts stories about the choices people make and how it impacts their lives. Often, her characters form a diverse cast of friends and family, seeking to grow. Ruchira fortifies her beliefs in healing through writing. She has also been a writer who stretches her own growth.

Anna Rodriguez (US)was part of my MFA cohort at SNHU and when we partnered on a project through school, I knew I wanted to do more collaborations with her. We share a home-state and similar philosophies about making creative writing more accessible. Anna writes about family and its importance and crafts novels with a diverse cast of characters from her Mexican American roots.

Hugh Roberts (UK) writes openly about his journey as a writer with dyslexia and being a part of the LGBTQ+ community. Anyone familiar with Hugh’s writing knows that he masters plot twists. He shares his experiences, talents, and tips with the greater writing community.

T. Marie Bertineau (US) writes from the Keweenaw, home of World Headquarters for Carrot Ranch. She’s a celebrated Indigenous author whose book The Mason House has won several notable awards. She writes about life in the UP of Michigan, sharing memories of her grandmothers.

D. Avery (US) would prefer the spotlight on Kid and Pal, but no matter how much Kid protests, she is their author. D.’s lively Vermont wit found a home with her creation of a saloon on the edge of Carrot Ranch. Her characters have interviewed the characters of other writers, they’ve invited artists and writers to showcase their creativity, and they’ve created interim prompts and a handy stage for other programming.

Chelsea Owens (US) has a ten-gallon hat and hung her shingle at the Saddle Up Saloon to encourage all writers to try their hand at poetry with the Anyone Can Poem challenge. Her explanations and explorations of poetry in creative writing prompted non-poets and poets alike.

Colleen M. Chesebro (US) writes and teaches syllabic poetry, crafting magic through prose and poems. As a Rodeo leader at Carrot Ranch, she invented a form based on the ennead but counting 99 syllables. She hosted a challenge at the Saddle Up Saloon and will join me next week in announcing some exciting news.

As you can see in this line-up, Carrot Ranch is rich in talent and literary citizenship. I’m so grateful to each of these writers for their time to encourage others during a difficult episode in modern history. They provided insight, encouragement, and inspiration. And we will move into the future — yet uncertain with world events continuing to unravel — as writers moved to make a difference through the stories we tell whether for entertainment or exploration. Next week, I’ll reveal what’s next at Carrot Ranch.

Thankfully, none of these writers have to dock to charge their batteries. But it leads to a thought-provoking what if…

March 7, 2022, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a robotic writer. Is it an analogy or a battery-operated i-writer? Is it possible? What will happen if robots write? Go where the prompt leads!

1. Submit by March 12, 2022. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form. The Collection publishes on the Wednesday following the next Challenge. Rules & Guidelines.
2. Carrot Ranch only accepts stories through the form below. Accepted stories will be published in a weekly collection. Writers retain all copyrights.
3. Your blog or social media link will be included in your title when the Collection publishes.
4. Please include your byline which is the name or persona you attribute to your writing.
5. Please include the hashtag #99Word Stories when sharing either the Challenge or Collection posts in social media.

Submissions are now closed. Find our latest challenge to enter.