The stars glittered above my head like shattered glass sprinkled over the heavens, providing the only light my soul could bear for miles and miles. I had strayed far away from camp, unable to take in the lively music and dancing fire, the smiling faces of comrades and kin. The lonely night made a much more understanding companion.

I let the wind whip at my bare shoulders and neck, content to shiver in its embrace. The grass tickled at my feet, the occasional rock burying its head into my soles, the dirt caking itself onto my skin. I sighed, happy to know I could still feel, and that I made some sort of impact on the world.

There was no moon to cast so many shadows; instead the world was one giant shadow, and I was in its depths, skulking. A hoot owl made known its presence off in the branches to my right. I silently nodded to it, like an affirmation that I was not in charge of this nighttime domain. I was merely a guest in his kingdom, a traveler passing by to nowhere in particular. To my left a snake slithered hurriedly through the tall grass, he traveling just as I. In my mind I pictured a toe sack hitched over his shoulder, bunched up in a wad, as he marched low to the ground, a hobo with no place to go, and I allowed a faint smile to ghost its way across my lips.

The night air smelled of moss and dirt, and of nature, untouched by civilization. Cicadas roared their symphony, their timbre changing slightly as the owl surely picked down performers one by one.

And I walked, my feet carrying me where I pleased, down the hill, through the briars, up the rocks and boulders, through the stream which bogged me down to my knees. For the first time, I was not running from anything, nor toward anything. I walked to walk, alone to be alone, pensive, melancholy, severe, wandering, but not lost.

A sigh found its way from my lungs and rode the cool midnight air in a cloud of fog, drifting over the tops of the trees and losing itself among the stars. It was here that I became one with his majesty, the mountain woods, the sand, the pebbles, the thorns, the land without a path. I melded into the night, a wanderer without a cause.

     Rome. 2016, March. Hadn't seen him since the '90s. Drunk on being away from the States, drunk on red and white wine, and a stomach gorged with in-house pasta, bread, and anything else I could get my hands on. Alley, restaurant. Trevi fountain checked off. Young Italian girls waving Americans in to their restaurants. A brothel feel. I want to go into the story about the two Italians fighting over the check. The owner and a drunk patron. I want to go into the gelato after, the air of Rome, the bricks of the alleys. But I can't. Rare to see this profile written in first person, but this is different. Like Rome is different. Lost there. Must gaze upon the Pantheon during the first rays of moonlight. 

Lost there. Around a blind corner I nearly walked into Cornell. The man was tall. I'm 6'1 and he loomed over me. We glanced at each other, I registered the situation, and kept moving. GPS called me a moron in code, so I followed Cornell and his wife, and their little girl. I wasn't listening but I was. He was telling his girl about how life is in Italy. I heard, "In Italy..." then the crowd around us absorbed the rest. A few people took fast second looks, and then went back to their tables, their drinks, their own trips and lives.

     In Rome no one cares who you are. 

     Quite a beautiful feeling.    

     Rome is different.

    Crossing back toward where I had to go. Losing light. The Sun becoming the Moon, and I'm standing there then, staring at the street that I would cross to my hotel, to give up, but I'm feeling too fine, and I'm in Rome. I'm in fucking ROME. Not to sound incredulous. I put my phone to my ear to hear the directions, looked down the street. Cornell. Giving me a skeptical but not-so-sure stare, a sideways check. It would appear I was following them, but I wasn't. It didn't bother me. I laughed ahead. Rome is different. He disappeared down the street with his family, and I realized I'd been going the right way the whole time. Turned back, walked and thought about it. I could have had a conversation with him, I could have dropped one name. His parents lived next door to my friend's parents here in West Seattle. He'd skated with Cornell, and once told me he and his parents would watch Cornell mowing his parents' lawn from upstairs, even after Soundgarden took off. We could have had a conversation away from the music, the words, just two dudes from here laughing about the suddenness of meeting in Rome with such far-reaching connections to the past. What stopped me from shaking his hand? I would like to fall back on ego, but it was only ego in the sense that I didn't want to be a fan, a number, even with a rare connection. 

     But the truth is I am a fan. And though I don't believe in regretting something you've already done, I should have shaken his hand. I didn't have to tell him that his lyrics were brilliant, his voice one of the most distinctive in all remembered time, or any of that bullshit people like him, the few of them, hear and have to deflect or appropriate when they're out in the world. I also simply didn't want to interrupt him or his family while they walked in peace as the Moon rose over Rome. 

     I found the Pantheon, young moonlight. Breath stolen. 

     This morning I awoke to a text from my buddy, Dave. Four words and an abbreviation: Dude, Chris Cornell died. WTF?

     Tap google. 52. Suspected suicide. No matter, he's gone. They all go, they don't live long enough to see themselves shine like the rest see them. And they don't care. Sitting here now, blasting Louder Than Love, and sending my best thoughts to his family. 

     Bukowski once said in a letter, "Death isn't a problem for the deceased, it's a problem for the living." Or something like that. Looking back on the dead artists of the last few years, Cornell hits pretty hard. 52 years old.

     Much love to his people. Hands All Over just started. I need more coffee, and to kiss my dogs. 

     Outside it's grey and bright and warm. 

      Austin, 2014. An idea was born into the streets. Two men walking, teeth dry from the ways of liquor. One stares in front. Downtown festival. Talks to the city ahead, but to the one walking next to him.

     I have an idea for an app. 

    Small city, the grey heat. Overcast no match. No hope to burn off the film from the damage last night. Hotel lounge, hair of the dog. The city had grown, and they were strangers now, each waiting to leave there, one by plane, one by car and dog. Talks of Prose., the font. Talks of why it would work, a family the size of a world. Strangers yet not quite. Revolt against apathy. Earned things, lost in paces too fast to retain soul, to keep their light. Drinks and words, the lobby bar turned museum for the old death of the words eaten by technology. A way out through a way back in. 

     We are all here now. 

     Thank you for being here with us. 

     Thank you.  

     It’s true. 

     Shots of bourbon in our coffee lead to reverence for you in the voice of Neruda.

     Where to begin? Does anyone who asks that question not know where to begin?

     We’ll start.

     Swift but graceful changes here at Prose. Our coder, while also knee-deep in slaying dragons and winning digital hills on rendered battlefields, is working on new features as this is being typed. Keep your eyes peeled. In another change, call it a red sun rising, we’re taking the app to 18 and over after the next update. Any young guns existing won’t need to worry, and should anyone under 18 sneak past the doorman and smooth-talk the bartender into a drink with no ID then you probably belong here, anyway. 

     Many more things to appear on the horizon.

     Stay tuned. Stay hungry.

It’s Friday, ergo, it’s Friday Feature time. This week we get to meet a lovely lady in beautiful Palm Springs who is going to rock your world. Be upstanding for @AlexWestmore

P: What is your given name and your Proser username?

A: Linda Kay Silva is my real name. My pen name is Alex Westmore

P: Where do you live?

A: I live in sunny and often hot Palm Springs, but I was born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area.

P: What is your occupation?

A: I am a Professor of Literature and history. I teach American, World, and British Lit. Sci-fi Fantasy, Women's Lit, and Creative Writing. I also teach American and World History

P: What is your relationship with writing and how has it evolved?

A: I have always written. Then a friend said, "Submit something." I did and was rejected multiple times before finally getting my first book published. It has evolved in so many ways. I am a much better writer now. I writer tighter prose and with 6 series, I have learned how to plant seeds and tie off loose ends.

P: What value does reading add to both your personal and professional life?

A: Reading is such a great thing. Reading keeps me sharper.

P: Can you describe your current literary ventures and what can we look forward to in future posts?

A: I just published my first romance. In future posts, I'll be adding snippets from my other series...I'll be adding challenges...I think this is a great place for writers and readers to come together.

P: What do you love about Prose?

A: I love that it's about writing...not selling. Not a constant me me me or I I I. I have read some really well written pieces, and that's been fun. I believe we are all looking for community or a place to belong in these trying times.

P: Is there one book that you would recommend everybody should read before they die?

A: Mine. No lol. Just kidding. I think everyone should read To Kill a Mockingbird.

P: Do you have an unsung hero who got you into reading and/or writing?

A: Rita Mae Brown. I read everything she wrote...then decided I should try. Funny story. A few years ago, we met at a conference, and now we are good friends. That's one of the highlights of my life. She is brilliant, and the best storyteller I have ever listened to.

P: Describe yourself in three words!

A: Fearless, Funny, Fighter

P: Is there one quote, from a writer or otherwise, that sums you up?

A: The question isn't who's going to let me, it's who's going to stop me? Ayn Rand.

P: What is your favourite music, and do you write or read to it?

A: I'm a classic writer, baby! And no, I do not listen to music when writing. I find it alters my mood which may or may not be appropriate to the scene I am writing.

P: You climb out of a time machine into a dystopian future with no books. What do you tell them?

A: Books were WONDERFUL. They were like hot chocolate in your hands as you look out over the snow. They were like the fur of a rabbit or the sound of a waterfall. Books were diamonds; some shone, others had inclusions, but all added to our lives. Books had a distinctive odor, a familiar feel. They were, like each being on earth, special in their own right.

P: Do you have a favourite place to read and write?

A: I have written a number of novels poolside on a cruise ship. Yeah, I have a rough life, but someone has to do it, so I pick me. To be writing as you cruise trough the Panama Canal? Sublime. To be writing a book set in Egypt when you pull into the port in Alexandria? Yeah. Pretty fucking awesome.

P: Is there anything else you’d like us to know about you/your work/social media accounts?

A: I write long hand with a fountain pen because I can write anywhere. There is also evidence that the kinesthetic act of writing does something different to our brains. 

Keyboarding is a very sterile activity, but the fluidity of writing opens many other pathways. I love it, and I have some awesome pens!

Thanks so much to Alex. Make sure you follow, like, love, and do the Prose thang! If you have sent your answers back and have yet to feature, fear not. There are a number lined up for future delectation. If you want to be involved, get in touch with an email and we’ll get the questions off to you.

Afternoon, Prosers,

It’s week sixty-seven of the Prose Challenge of the Week, and given the changes we have made to the challenge stream, this week will be the last post we make to announce them in post form. We have the functionality to choose the winners digitally, notify them immediately, and transfer the coins into their Prose Wallets automatically.

As mentioned in our post, “Let’s talk about Prose,” these challenges will now be pay-to-enter for the time being. It’s because of this that we are renaming them simply, “Prose Challenge.” They will run until the maximum number of entries have been reached so we can use the entry fees to pay each winner.

Let’s have a look at this week’s prompt:

ProseChallenge #67: Write a poem about grief. The most eloquent, elegant, entertaining entry, ascertained by Prose, earns $100 and stays atop the Spotlight shelf for 24 consecutive hours. Feel free to invite friends, distant family, even strange acquaintances to play this challenge with you anonymously. Please use #ProseChallenge #itslit for sharing online.

Back to week sixty-six. The winner of the “life lessons” challenge is, @starryEYES with their piece, Learning to the song of the beeps.

Congratulations! You have just won $100, and your post will remain at the top of our Spotlight feed for the next day. We will be in touch with you shortly to execute payment.

From this point forward, the winners of the Prose Challenge will get a notification and the coins will automatically transfer to your Prose Wallet within 24 hours of winning the challenge. If you don’t get the coins within that period, give us a shout.

To keep tabs on the challenge winners of all challenges, check out the challenge archives. https://theprose.com/challenges/archive-month

As you may recall, last week, we announced a sponsored challenge in collaboration with publishing giant, Simon & Schuster. Here is the link, just in case you haven’t stumbled across it yet! https://theprose.com/challenge/5367

If you haven’t entered any of our awesome challenges yet, why not? Check out some of them here: https://theprose.com/challenges

And as always, remember to spread the word(s).

Until next time, Prosers,

Prose.

It’s only bloody Friday again. Naturally, as we all know, Fridays we get to greedily consume the tidbits and morsels of a Proser’s life. This week is another splendid one, as we find out about a Proser that many of us know and love, but want to know what lurks behind the mask. We’re heading to Montana; as we prepare to meet with @mrjhyde

P: What is your given name and your Proser username?

J: My name is James, I go by mrjdhyde online.

P: Where do you live?

J: Helena Montana. Which as most people don’t know is where you go if you NEVER want to be discovered as a writer. Apparently there’s a literary black hole in the middle of town. I once saw it eat three poets, and a novelist. Sad really, but on the plus side, I consoled their widows.

P: What is your occupation?

J: I’m a writer. I make no money at it yet, and I support my writing with working at a grocery store and doing odd jobs. But I think that how we define ourselves if very important. So, I am a writer.

P: What is your relationship with writing and how has it evolved?

J: I always wanted to be a writer, but never had the sack enough to take pen to paper. I would just make up stories in my head. Then I started sexting, full stories. I joined a fetish site that let you post stories, and that gave me enough confidence to branch out into other genres. Soon, that site wasn’t what I wanted anymore. I wanted to be a real thing writer. Not a popular one, but a good one.

For me, good trumps popular every time. So I study writing and how I can become better with each story, and poem. I’m still the guy who uses the word “grammarize” but at least now I know that I shouldn’t use it.

For me the written word is the ultimate art form, because it is carried in the head after use. Some one can still tell a story even if the book was burned, that story will live on. And stories can change the world, bring down kingdoms.

I often tell people that a king fears the song, not the sword. Only one man can wield a sword, but a song can sweep through the country like a fire. Thousands singing.

P: What value does reading add to both your personal and professional life?

J: It makes me a better person, as a child i didn’t have good strong role models so I found them in books. They helped me decide what kind of man that I would be. Whenever I read a book I put myself in the place of the characters and ask myself what I would do in their situations.

In my professional life there’s three books that have guided me. The Art of War, The Book of Five rings, and The Hagakure. In order these books teach how to be a General, a soldier, and samurai.

P: Can you describe your current literary ventures and what can we look forward to?

J: Dear lord, I’m writing six books right now I think? And short stories galore. Future posts? probably some angry rambling, some ranting, frothing, a few poems, a short story or thirty. And then the day after tomorrow...

P: What do you love about Prose?

J: Brooding poetry chicks… What???

I mean, uh… The stories. And the challenges. Because there are so many great writers on site, I have to work harder trying to be a better writer to compete in the challenges.

P: Is there one book that you would recommend everybody should read before they die?

J: Anything with my name on the cover.

Barring that… Christopher Moore. Anything by him will make you laugh, which will make your day better. Which makes the world better, so read him. You want to make the world a better place don’t you?

P: Do you have an unsung hero who got you into reading and/or writing?

J: S.E. Hinton, I read ‘The Outsiders’ in school and it changed my life. Suddenly I found out that there were people like me out there. That began my reading.

As for writing? Brooding poetry chicks… Blame them.

P: Describe yourself in three words!

J: I’m nobody special.

P: Is there one quote, from a writer or otherwise, that sums you up?

J: No, but if you think of one please send it to me. I would like to know.

P: What is your favourite music, and do you write or read to it?

J: I play a few instruments, so genre of music isn’t as important to me as how well that it’s done. And no, I need quiet to write because Squirrel.

P: You climb out of a time machine into a dystopian future with no books. What do you tell them?

J: “Hi, God sent me. Bring me to the women.”

P: Do you have a favourite place to read and write?

J: My big over stuffed leather chair. I love my chair, and it loves me.

P: Is there anything else you’d like us to know about you/your work/social media?

J: Mark Zuckerberg is the reason for Justin Bieber. Really, Mark created him to try to control the Girl Scout mafia. Unfortunately, Mark lost control of the poor, mad thing. And it ended up eating the real Zuckerberg. Now Facebook is controlled by the CIA, in hopes of getting the secret Keebler recipes.

Well thank you very much, James. How cool was that, and was he? You know what to do now – follow, like, comment, love; do all those things that make us what we are.

Good Morning, Prosers,

The way publishers find new authors might have just changed forever.

We are pleased to announce that we have joined forces with publishing giant Simon & Schuster, whose legacy includes Ernest Hemingway, Carrie Fisher, and Stephen King.

Simon & Schuster’s editing team hopes to discover the next generation of great authors by utilising our challenge feature and our social community, initially through a 500-2000 word writing challenge that ends June 1, prompting you to, “Write a story, chapter, or essay about whatever you like. The 50 best entries will be announced by Prose and read by Simon & Schuster’s editorial staff for consideration.”

This challenge stipulates a minimum of 500 entries and a maximum of 2,000.

We will announce the top-50 entries on June 21, 2017.

Here is the challenge URL: https://theprose.com/challenge/5367

We hope you are as excited about this as we are. If you know people who would like to get noticed by Simon & Schuster, spread the word(s).

Until next time, Prosers,

Prose.

Good morning, Prosers.

It’s been quite the week, hasn’t it?

The last seven (ish) days has been a hive of activity here behind the Prose screens. We overhauled the Challenge Stream and we weren’t prepared for some of the concerns you guys laid across our digital desks.

We tried to answer each one of your concerns, but thought it best, now the dust has settled, to write something to each and every one of you.

Over a year ago, we took a vow of transparency and this is one of those times where we feel full transparency is needed.

There are only 4 of us on the team, and two of us have spent a long time in the past 7 days responding to each and every concern of yours, whilst working part-time on all of our Prose duties, and part-time on the PoetsIN duties.

Some of the complaints we received were misconceptions of the team and the company ethos that we have worked so hard at. So, this is us, setting the record straight. We are going to outline the concerns and comments, and put this to bed so we can continue improving Prose.

1) Default minimum word count.

This is set by default at 15. We will not be changing this any time soon. Why? Because when we allowed full flexibility, with no restriction there, our feeds were full with one word challenges. “Sorrow in one word.” “Death in one word.” Not only was this clogging the streams; we were also getting complaints about it. So we found a happy medium. With tens of thousands of users here, we had a couple of complaints about this. Not enough complaints that would make us re-think our stance.

2) Why did we charge for last week’s challenge of the week?

The first week’s charge for the challenge was to test the feature. We can test on our beta server, but know from experience that the second we unleash it on you guys, if there is a bug that we have missed, you will find it within seconds and we can fix it just as quickly.

3) Will we charge for future challenges?

Short answer, yes. Why? We’ll come back to this shortly.

4) What about those that do not have coins?

Those who do not have coins can either, a) head to the website and buy a coin package, b) become a partner and sell books/shorts/chapters, or c) write exceptional pieces that your Proser peers will juice you for. If neither a, b, or c apply to you, sit out the challenge and find one that doesn’t cost to enter.

5) Are we falling foul of “corruption to profit?” 

No. We are most certainly not. We are four people, managing a community tens of thousands larger than our foursome. We work tirelessly on this platform because we love it. This change wasn’t about profit, whatsoever. We’re humble, realistic, and realise that without charging for challenges, and taking a small cut from book sales etc, Prose won’t continue this way.

The above were the main concerns, and comments from people, said in a multitude of ways. All handled in a professional way, sometimes to-the-point, but never abrasive or rude. We are human after all and we’re damn proud of what we have achieved with such a small team and an equally small budget.

Think of how you discovered us. Was that through a large ad campaign? Nope, because we do not do that. We have grown this community organically, by spending time reaching out to people via social media and getting listed on some cool websites, that’s really it in a nutshell. Millions of man-hours go into this and we get paid less than most for the hours we put in.

We have made a tough decision. For the foreseeable, we will be charging for the Challenge of the Week. 50 cents. That’s all. There are challenges out there on the interwebs that charge a shed-load more for entering a challenge. We aren’t charging 50c to make a profit, we are charging 50c to put food on the table.

Over the past 67 weeks, we have given away $6700 in Challenge of the Week funds and have used our funding to pay for it. We haven’t asked you for a cent. The second we do, we have people asking why this “forum” can’t be free. Up until now, we have run Prose from a pool of money from generous investors who believe in what we do as much as we do. We haven’t yet made enough from Prose as a business to be able to pay our bills and such like. 

Prose is still free to use. But, if you want $100, you’ll have to pay 50 cents for the chance. We do not make enough currently to be able to keep giving free money, as much as we’d love to. There are plenty of free-to-enter challenges set by your peers that you can enter.

The more you guys buy coins, spend coins on each other, supporting the words of this amazing community, the more likely we’ll be able to offer a free-to-enter Challenge of the Week again. If we do not make enough to pay ourselves and pay the server charges, there will be no paid or free challenges. Dramatic, maybe, but that is the truth.

This does not mean Prose is failing, it does not mean we are going to ‘shut up shop,’ far from it. It’s us making you aware that these changes, along with your cooperation, will ensure our longevity.

Not all of the comments were comments of concern, and we thank each and every one of you for your continued support and for choosing Prose as your home for words.

We are working hard to tip the scales to benefit the author, and we’ve done this so far by providing numerous ways for each of you to make money with your words, with your royalties far outweighing ours.

Tomorrow we have another exciting opportunity for all of you, too, which has been months in the making. But, in the meantime, let’s recap how you can make a living on Prose.

1) Become a Prose Partner. Head here: theprose.com/p/partner. If you are accepted, you can sell your words on Prose. These can be sold as a single poem or short story, or as a book. Books can be sold per chapter, or as a whole.

2) Get involved in the Prose community, like, comment, share, and write. Write like it’s the last thing you’ll ever write; if Prosers like it, they’ll juice you.

3) Create awesome paid challenges. Prosers can actually make money from doing this.

If you would like some marketing tips from the team here, let us know, we’ll create a book in the bookstore that can help serve as a guide with some very useful tips and tricks in there. As a side-note, due to limitations with our time, we will have to charge for this book. Every little helps us, help you.

We think that’s all for now; if you have any further questions or concerns, please message or email us privately, and bear with us while we respond.

Let’s all get back to being creative, shall we?

Until next time, long live Prose!

Prose.