John Bryant
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johnwhowrites.bsky.social
John Bryant
@johnwhowrites.bsky.social
1.2K followers 4.4K following 240 posts
Certified Sailor. ⛵ You had me at tacos. 🌮 Fueled by bourbon.🥃 I write stuff too.📚 Currently #amwriting a #histfantasy joint called SLAVES OF GOD #writingcommunity #writesky
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johnwhowrites.bsky.social
Here's mine! SLAVES OF GOD #openinglines #writesky #amwriting
Opening lines to SLAVES OF GOD by John Bryant: Long before the old gods set foot in Lafayette County, it had taught its children to fear anything they couldn’t chain or break. For generations, that fear passed into the land, the people, and the secrets they kept. It seeped into the very bones of the place. Lingered like rot. Even the stagecoach into the burgeoning town of Purity felt it. Always ran late, especially on Sundays, as if reluctant to deliver strangers into a place that clung to its ways. Still, the townsfolk relied on the rickety old coach to maintain their ties to the world beyond, no matter how erratic or unpredictable its schedule. But things in Purity had a way of playing out when and how they ought to. At least, that’s what folks said. Wink heard that kind of talk before. And soon enough, things inevitably went sideways.
November 11, 2025 at 2:26 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
Not sure where this quote comes from, but be an ocean.
Motivational text that reads: "If you are an ocean, be an ocean. Don't be a pond just because people can't swim."
November 10, 2025 at 3:36 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
Yo mama! #WIPSnips #writesky #amwriting
Today's #WIPSnips word is little. Here's a snippet from my historical fantasy joint, SLAVES OF GOD: “Pfft,” he huff. “Your mama so old she used to breastfeed Methuselah.” “Yo mama so old she remember when the Mississippi was a creek.” Jairus shook his head, grinning wide. The dozens. An game of wit and sting, passed down through generations. It took a sharp tongue and even thicker skin. Wink and Jairus had both. They wore the game like armor; a way to carve out a little control in a world that offered none. Most who played quit a dozen mama jokes in, but neither had mothers to defend. So their games stretched on and on.
November 8, 2025 at 2:45 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
Dress the part. #WIPSnips #writesky #amwriting
The #WIPSnips word for November 3rd is "nice." Here's a snipped from my work in progress, SLAVES OF GOD: Wink flipped open the trunk. The scent of perfume hit him first. Sweet, floral, subtle. It rose from the fine chemises, petticoats, and pantaloons folded neatly inside. Nothing like the slop shirt and breeches he wore. Cheap, stained with sweat and fear. “You got some real nice things, Miss Adelia. They all wear fancy clothes like this in New York?” “No, not everyone,” she chuckled, curling her hair behind an ear. “Most of it’s for show anyway. My mama used to say, ‘Clothes are a mask. Dress the part and people will assume you belong there.’”
November 3, 2025 at 9:42 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
Welp! I'll be at #BooksByTheArch 2026. Guess I need to get my butt in gear and finish SLAVES OF GOD by October. #authorproblems #writesky #amwriting 📚
Artistic rendering of the St. Louis skyline featuring the Gateway Arch with the words "Books by the Arch." The indie author festival is returning October 17th, 2022 at the Downtown St. Louis Hyatt.
October 23, 2025 at 6:07 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
A fool and his money are soon parted. #WIPSnips #writesky #amwriting
The #WIPSnips word of the day is "prize." Here's a snipped from my work in progress, Slaves of God: At eighteen, his father died, and the weight of Brown Estates fell on his shoulders. Davis had a knack for spending, not business. By the time folks finally called him grown, he’d drained the family fortune, buying up superficial things he figured passed for wealth. Exotic goods from far away lands. Elaborate dinner parties. Horses, even a prized Thoroughbred. Eventually, predictably, the money dried up.
October 10, 2025 at 4:16 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
Words unsaid keep you safe. #WIPSnips #writesky #amwriting
For Oct. 7th, the #WIPSnips word of the day is "safe." Here's a snippet from my WIP, Slaves of God: He felt her eyes on him, waiting for something more, not knowing what to say. “We should get back,” he said, and heaved the bundle onto his shoulder. “Oughta be enough.” She nodded. Adelia cradled the twigs and flowers in her dress, caring for them like delicate things. Like something worth keeping safe. They headed toward camp, the space between them filling with things left unsaid. Camouflaged in the brush, the hare watched.
October 7, 2025 at 1:36 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
Pooped? 😂 #typo #amwriting #writesky
I almost didn't catch the typo in my work in progress: "Davis picked himself up. Brushed pollen and grass from his clothes. His old bones creaked and pooped as he stretched."
October 6, 2025 at 9:39 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
Birdie knows what she's doing. #WIPSnips #writesky #amwriting
The #WIPSnips word of the day is "miss." Here's a snippet from my historical fantasy joint, Slaves of God: He spotted Birdie. Middle pew, dead center. Hard to miss. He knew what folks thought of her, and how little she cared. Thought of most like tiny bugs beneath her well-manicured feet. She crossed one leg over the other, exposing a flash of thigh under her petticoats. A dare to look. For eyes to linger longer than they ought to.
October 6, 2025 at 1:50 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
When a giant hyena is your protector, old memories sometimes stir. #WIPSnips #writesky #amwriting
Today's #WIPSnips word is "hunt." Here's a snipped from my historical fantasy joint, Slaves of God: "Kuua!” Nanyamka cried out. Dayo’s ears twitched. That word. She hadn’t heard it since she was a cub, hunting game across the wilds with Nanyamka and Uncle. She remembered the impala. Graceful. Terrified. Fast. But not fast enough. She clamped her jaws around its neck and held firm until the body stilled beneath her. Nanyamka screamed. Not with praise, but horror. Dayo never understood. Nature never asked permission. Balance fed on blood. After that, kuua vanished. In its place came mlinzi. Guard. Protect. The word defined her mission. Now, the old word resurfaced, clawing its way out from the dark corners of her mind. “Kuua!” Nanyamka repeated, shouting this time. Something stirred. Ancient. Primal. Dayo complied. No hesitation. No doubt. She knew what it meant. Kill. And so she did."
October 4, 2025 at 1:50 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
Playing with fonts today. I dunno if I'm 100% sold on this one, but I don't hate it. #amwriting #writesky
The title of my upcoming book, Slaves of God. Below that are the words, a novel. And finally my name, John Bryant.
September 24, 2025 at 7:55 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
Is Wink going crazy? Seeing that damn hare again. 🐰 #WIPSnips #writesky #amwriting
The word for today's #WIPSnips is "leave." Here's a snippet from my historical fantasy joint, SLAVES OF GOD: Wink knew nobody else could see it. How it came and went in the corner of his eye. Been like that for awhile now. Kept it to himself as best he could. Wasn’t always easy. But if he ignored it long enough, the hare would slip away and leave him be. At least for a while.
September 24, 2025 at 5:58 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
Ok, old friend. Do do that voodoo that you do so well. #amwriting #writesky
Extreme close up of a keyboard. A few number and letter keys are visible.
September 20, 2025 at 1:53 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
Adelia visits her childhood home. #WIPSnips #writesky #amwriting
Today's #WIPSnips is red. Here's a snipped from my historical fiction joint, Slaves of God: Once-buried childhood memories resurfaced. Lush, landscaped greenery. Sturdy trees. Flowers that once bloomed in vivid yellows, reds, and violets now withered and dry. The landscape bore scars from felled trees, leaving behind ancient stumps as silent reminders of the past. A faded shell of the home Adelia once knew.
September 18, 2025 at 1:47 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
Self-preservation and fake smiles. #WIPSnips #amwriting #writesky
The word for the September 16th #WIPSnips is practice. Here's a snippet from my urban fantasy joint, Slaves of God: “Yes sir,” Wink said, swallowing what dignity he could. “God’s honest truth.” Jairus nodded and donned his mask of a smile, the kind practiced over a lifetime.
September 16, 2025 at 2:32 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
A shout out to Leonard Snart's 4 Rules of Planning in my #WIP Slaves of God. 🤔 #IYKYK #amwriting #writesky #ScarletSpeedster
A shout out to Leonard Snart's 4 Rules of Planning in my WIP: Cope didn’t have an answer. Not one that would go down easy, anyway. Father Lorenzo hadn’t sent word for days. The truth? He didn’t know when the cross would get there. He’d planned. Stuck to the plan. But the unreliable priest had thrown off the timetable. The plan was about to go sideways and he considered throwing it out altogether.
September 15, 2025 at 9:12 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
When a figment of Wink's imagination proves it's no figment. #WIPSnips #writesky #amwriting
The #WIPSnips word for September 9th is pressure. Here's a snipped from my work in progress, Slaves of God: He squeezed his eyes shut. Tight. So hard his temples throbbed from the pressure. But when he opened them, the hare still stood there. “No, no. You ain’t real,” he whispered. The hare flicked its black-tipped ears. Then it scooped up a fallen acorn and hurled it at Wink, hitting him square in the forehead. “That real enough for you?” it teased, twitching its nose.
September 9, 2025 at 4:04 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
Even Mother Earth gets tired sometimes. #WIPSnips #writesky #amwriting
Today's #WIPSnips word is "tired." Here's a snippet from my work in progress, Slaves of God: "The fields rolled out like a sigh, dry and golden, too tired to green."
September 2, 2025 at 1:17 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
Reverend Copeland has a different idea when it comes to the fear of God. 🤔📖 #WIPSnips #writesky #writingcommunity
The #WIPSnips word of the day is "faith." Here's a snippet from my work in progress, a historical fantasy joint called Slaves of God: “Our last preacher never riled folks up the way you do. He was all fire and brimstone.” “Faith ain’t s’pose to scare folks. It’s meant to free.”
August 31, 2025 at 2:55 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
I misspelled flappin' and @reedsy.bsky.social suggested Fallopian. 😂📚 #amwriting #writesky #writingcommunity
Screenshot of a misspelled word, flappin' and the writing program, Reedsy, suggested Fallopian.
August 30, 2025 at 2:22 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
Hyena on the hunt. Old memories stir. #WIPSnips #writesky #amwriting 📚
The #WIPSnips word for August 21st is “shout.” Here’s a snippet from my historical fantasy joint, Slaves of God: “Kuua!” Nanyamka cried out. Dayo’s ears twitched. That word. She hadn’t heard it since she was a cub, hunting game across the wilds with Nanyamka and Uncle. She remembered the impala. Graceful. Terrified. Fast. But not fast enough. She clamped her jaws around its neck and held firm until the body stilled beneath her. Nanyamka screamed. Not with praise, but horror. Dayo never understood. Nature never asked permission. Balance fed on blood. After that, kuua vanished. In its place came mlinzi. Guard. Protect. The word defined her mission. Now, the old word resurfaced, clawing its way out from the dark corners of her mind. “Kuua!” Nanyamka repeated, shouting this time. Something stirred. Ancient. Primal. Dayo complied. No hesitation. No doubt. She knew what it meant. Kill. And so she did.
August 21, 2025 at 3:14 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
When memories don't live up to the reality. 🪷 #WIPSnips #WIP #amwriting #writesky
The word for the August 10th #WIPSnips is "flower." Here's a snippet from my historical fantasy joint, Slaves of God: Once-buried childhood memories surfaced. Lush, landscaped greenery. Sturdy trees. Flowers that once bloomed in vivid yellows, reds, and violets now withered and dry. The landscape bore scars from felled trees, leaving behind ancient stumps as silent reminders of the past. A faded shell of the home Adelia once knew.
August 10, 2025 at 3:24 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
Time to go to work. #amwritimg #writesky 📚
An open laptop sits on a desk in the foreground. Next to it are a coffee cup with dribbles of coffee down its side and computer mouse. In the background is a window with a street view.
August 5, 2025 at 9:28 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
Animals can't talk, can they? 🐰 #WIPSnips #writesky #writingcommunity
The word for July 31st #WIPSnips is "drop." Here's a snippet from my historical fantasy joint, Slaves of God: “I know you can see me,” it said, inching toward him. Wink stumbled backward, dropping the wood he’d gathered. He squeezed his eyes shut. Tight. So hard his temples throbbed from the pressure. But when he opened them, the hare still stood there. “No, no. You ain’t real,” he whispered. The hare flicked its black-tipped ears. Then it scooped up a fallen acorn and hurled it at Wink, hitting him square in the forehead. “That real enough for you?” it teased, twitching its nose.
July 31, 2025 at 3:50 PM
johnwhowrites.bsky.social
Eat. Write. Repeat. #amwriting 📚
I'm wearing headphones and glasses, looking upward while sitting in a booth at The Mud House coffee shop. The word EAT hangs on the wall behind me
July 29, 2025 at 3:28 PM