Dearest Writers:

Over the past 12 months, members of our community have expressed their desire to publish a book but lack of traction with agents or publishers. Our mission is to see members of our community succeed and fulfill their dreams of becoming published authors.

Enter, The Prose Press:

https://theprose.com/p/press

In collaboration with one of the fastest-growing educational companies, we started The Prose Press to give up-and-coming authors the platform to successfully write and publish their work.

Over the next few months, we will be inviting aspiring authors to submit their work and start their publishing journey with The Prose Press and share key pieces of their journey with you – their learnings, conversations, milestones, and excerpts.

If you are interested in turning your working manuscript into a real book, reach out to us.

Thank you to our supporters and community members for making this possible.

https://theprose.com/p/press

Cheers,

Prose.

I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I let them rest in my lap and kept my body turned toward him. He mostly focused on the road while he talked. I let his voice float over me. It stopped my twitching mind. It silenced my inner doubts. It was the self medication I had searched for for as long as I could remember. He focused on the road while I focused on his voice. I stopped thinking of my hands. I stopped thinking of my breath. I drowned in the night air. Eyes closed and heart barely beating. And my left hand all on its own came to rest in his right. And his thumb painted circles in the soft web of skin between my fingers. And his voice painted circles on the soft web of veins beneath my skin. And the night painted it’s circles on the webbing of my lungs. And suddenly everything was incessant. Suddenly I was no longer ephemeral. And suddenly everything was waiting.