He got up and sat on the edge of the bedstead with his back to the window. “It’s better not to sleep at all,” he decided. There was a cold damp draught from the window, however; without getting up he drew the blanket over him and wrapped himself in it. He was not thinking of anything and did not want to think. But one image rose after another, incoherent scraps of thought without beginning or end passed through his mind. He sank into drowsiness. Perhaps the cold, or the dampness, or the dark, or the wind that howled under the window and tossed the trees roused a sort of persistent craving for the fantastic. He kept dwelling on images of flowers, he fancied a charming flower garden, a bright, warm, almost hot day, a holiday—Trinity day. A fine, sumptuous country cottage in the English taste overgrown with fragrant flowers, with flower beds going round the house; the porch, wreathed in climbers, was surrounded with beds of roses. A light, cool staircase, carpeted with rich rugs, was decorated with rare plants in china pots. He noticed particularly in the windows nosegays of tender, white, heavily fragrant narcissus bending over their bright, green, thick long stalks. He was reluctant to move away from them, but he went up the stairs and came into a large, high drawing-room and again everywhere—at the windows, the doors on to the balcony, and on the balcony itself—were flowers. The floors were strewn with freshly-cut fragrant hay, the windows were open, a fresh, cool, light air came into the room. The birds were chirruping under the window, and in the middle of the room, on a table covered with a white satin shroud, stood a coffin. The coffin was covered with white silk and edged with a thick white frill; wreaths of flowers surrounded it on all sides. Among the flowers lay a girl in a white muslin dress, with her arms crossed and pressed on her bosom, as though carved out of marble. But her loose fair hair was wet; there was a wreath of roses on her head. The stern and already rigid profile of her face looked as though chiselled of marble too, and the smile on her pale lips was full of an immense unchildish misery and sorrowful appeal. Svidrigaïlov knew that girl; there was no holy image, no burning candle beside the coffin; no sound of prayers: the girl had drowned herself. She was only fourteen, but her heart was broken. And she had destroyed herself, crushed by an insult that had appalled and amazed that childish soul, had smirched that angel purity with unmerited disgrace and torn from her a last scream of despair, unheeded and brutally disregarded, on a dark night in the cold and wet while the wind howled
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The Best Software and Tech for Writers 
Unless you prefer to write only with pen on paper, you probably use technology to help you write. Well, why not upgrade your technology in the hopes of upgrading your writing? Check out the helpful technologies and softwares below which are the best tools to spur your writing along. Also, some of links below include […]
Read More A Manifesto for Slow Writing What is “Slow Writing”? You’ve probably heard the phrase tossed around for other topics: Slow Food Slow Cinema Slow Fashion Slow Travel It’s a movement based on Carl Honore’s 2004 book, In Praise of Slowness, which is about the detrimental effects of building an entire culture around the benefits of speed. These principles about slowness can be […]
Read More 15 Ways to Build a Writing Community (Without Moving to New York) Hey Bookfoxers, it can be difficult to find a writing community in your area, even if you’re an established writer. It’s especially hard if you’re not in a major metropolis. I mean, writers are on in every street corner in San Francisco or New York, but if you’re in a smaller city or suburbs or […]
Read More 8 Tips to Score Bookstore Readings for Your Book Tour I’m going to give you the information every writer should know when approaching bookstores to plan a book tour: the perspective of a bookstore owner and an author. In December of 2013, Brian Lampkin and I opened Scuppernong Books in Greensboro, North Carolina. We sell mostly new books, some used, and we have a café where […]
Read More 30 Sci-Fi and Fantasy Publishers Finding a home for your science fiction or fantasy novel can be difficult, especially if you’re looking at publishers who take all genres. There’s a huge market for speculative fiction, as long as it doesn’t get lost in a mess of books of other genres. To avoid that, the thirty publishers below are looking specifically […]
Read More 30 Poetry Book Publishers Who Want Your Book These poetry book publishers all produce first-rate books, and you don’t need an agent to submit your work. Since the tastes of poetry editors vary, always make sure you’re familiar with the kinds of books the press publishes before you submit. This will save you so much time! I suggest purchasing a book or two […]
Read More 19 New Literary Agents Seeking Clients (in 2021) {{Please check out my new post of literary agents.}} This post is based on old-fashioned research: I emailed 19 new literary agents seeking to build their client list, and got the inside dish from each of them. The type of books they’re looking for The type of books they read when they’re not working Personal […]
Read More Never Write a Chapter Longer Than 4,000 Words Most readers don’t pick up a novel thinking, “Okay. I’m going to read all 100,000 words of this right now.” That’s why chapters exist. Chapters give readers a stopping point without abandoning the book. They also allow readers to pick the book back up without feeling completely lost. A short story is a fantastic model […]
Read More Is It Too Late to Start Writing After You’re 50+? Have young people cornered the market on writing? I only ask because it seems like the big publishing companies tend to reward the prodigy model: you know, the wunderkinds who graduate from a prestigious university and get a seven-figure advance for a novel about New York or a YA fantasy series. They have cherubic cheeks […]
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