Andie Writes
@andiewrites.bsky.social
✨ Magical realism writer, mid-life magic maker
📖 Finding wonder in ordinary moments
💌 Weekly stories → andielikestowrite.substack.com
📖 Finding wonder in ordinary moments
💌 Weekly stories → andielikestowrite.substack.com
I met @amytan.bsky.social at the @miamibookfair.bsky.social last year. She had a lovely evening as she introduced us to the #backyardbirdjournal
As an amateur watercolor "person" (not yet artist), I was blown away.
As an amateur watercolor "person" (not yet artist), I was blown away.
September 20, 2025 at 12:13 AM
I met @amytan.bsky.social at the @miamibookfair.bsky.social last year. She had a lovely evening as she introduced us to the #backyardbirdjournal
As an amateur watercolor "person" (not yet artist), I was blown away.
As an amateur watercolor "person" (not yet artist), I was blown away.
Procrastinating? Great!
What about... open.substack.com/pub/andielik...
"Stop Waiting For Permission To Write Badly"
#writing #writingsky
What about... open.substack.com/pub/andielik...
"Stop Waiting For Permission To Write Badly"
#writing #writingsky
September 16, 2025 at 1:48 PM
Procrastinating? Great!
What about... open.substack.com/pub/andielik...
"Stop Waiting For Permission To Write Badly"
#writing #writingsky
What about... open.substack.com/pub/andielik...
"Stop Waiting For Permission To Write Badly"
#writing #writingsky
September 15, 2025 at 4:17 PM
The time I tried not to plot and sat in front of the computer for 90 minutes straight looking at the same sentence... #writing #writingsky
September 15, 2025 at 1:13 PM
The time I tried not to plot and sat in front of the computer for 90 minutes straight looking at the same sentence... #writing #writingsky
Sunday procrastination vibes…
September 14, 2025 at 1:25 PM
Sunday procrastination vibes…
Her ex-husband's laugh lived in the silverware drawer.
Not his voice—that had lost its power years ago. Just the sound of him finding something funny, back when that was enough.
She opened the drawer every morning, closed it every night.
Some ghosts are worth it
#magicalrealism #writingcraft
Not his voice—that had lost its power years ago. Just the sound of him finding something funny, back when that was enough.
She opened the drawer every morning, closed it every night.
Some ghosts are worth it
#magicalrealism #writingcraft
September 11, 2025 at 11:45 PM
Her ex-husband's laugh lived in the silverware drawer.
Not his voice—that had lost its power years ago. Just the sound of him finding something funny, back when that was enough.
She opened the drawer every morning, closed it every night.
Some ghosts are worth it
#magicalrealism #writingcraft
Not his voice—that had lost its power years ago. Just the sound of him finding something funny, back when that was enough.
She opened the drawer every morning, closed it every night.
Some ghosts are worth it
#magicalrealism #writingcraft
She kept Tuesday in a music box on her dresser.
Not the whole day—just the moment her daughter called to say "I love you" for no reason at all.
Some Tuesdays were worth keeping forever.
When she needed hope, she'd wind it up and listen.
Should I expand this story?
#MagicalRealism #ShortFiction
Not the whole day—just the moment her daughter called to say "I love you" for no reason at all.
Some Tuesdays were worth keeping forever.
When she needed hope, she'd wind it up and listen.
Should I expand this story?
#MagicalRealism #ShortFiction
September 10, 2025 at 11:02 PM
She kept Tuesday in a music box on her dresser.
Not the whole day—just the moment her daughter called to say "I love you" for no reason at all.
Some Tuesdays were worth keeping forever.
When she needed hope, she'd wind it up and listen.
Should I expand this story?
#MagicalRealism #ShortFiction
Not the whole day—just the moment her daughter called to say "I love you" for no reason at all.
Some Tuesdays were worth keeping forever.
When she needed hope, she'd wind it up and listen.
Should I expand this story?
#MagicalRealism #ShortFiction
What if I told you three books could completely change how you understand magical realism?
Not just how to read it—how to WRITE it.
Thread on the craft lessons that transformed my approach 🧵👇
#MagicalRealism #WritingCraft #BookRecommendations
Not just how to read it—how to WRITE it.
Thread on the craft lessons that transformed my approach 🧵👇
#MagicalRealism #WritingCraft #BookRecommendations
September 10, 2025 at 2:22 PM
What if I told you three books could completely change how you understand magical realism?
Not just how to read it—how to WRITE it.
Thread on the craft lessons that transformed my approach 🧵👇
#MagicalRealism #WritingCraft #BookRecommendations
Not just how to read it—how to WRITE it.
Thread on the craft lessons that transformed my approach 🧵👇
#MagicalRealism #WritingCraft #BookRecommendations
What if your house remembered everyone who lived there before you?
The walls hold echoes of arguments. The kitchen still smells like bread from 1987. Your bedroom door opens to show a nursery that hasn't existed for decades.
I'm exploring this in my current story. Worth continuing? 👇
The walls hold echoes of arguments. The kitchen still smells like bread from 1987. Your bedroom door opens to show a nursery that hasn't existed for decades.
I'm exploring this in my current story. Worth continuing? 👇
September 9, 2025 at 12:50 PM
What if your house remembered everyone who lived there before you?
The walls hold echoes of arguments. The kitchen still smells like bread from 1987. Your bedroom door opens to show a nursery that hasn't existed for decades.
I'm exploring this in my current story. Worth continuing? 👇
The walls hold echoes of arguments. The kitchen still smells like bread from 1987. Your bedroom door opens to show a nursery that hasn't existed for decades.
I'm exploring this in my current story. Worth continuing? 👇
Crafting tales of magical realism at my kitchen table tonight.
The coffee has cooled. The candle flickers gently. My grandmother's portrait gazes upon me as I weave stories of women who preserve memories in mason jars.
On some evenings, these tales seem more tangible than the very room I inhabit.
The coffee has cooled. The candle flickers gently. My grandmother's portrait gazes upon me as I weave stories of women who preserve memories in mason jars.
On some evenings, these tales seem more tangible than the very room I inhabit.
September 9, 2025 at 12:10 AM
Crafting tales of magical realism at my kitchen table tonight.
The coffee has cooled. The candle flickers gently. My grandmother's portrait gazes upon me as I weave stories of women who preserve memories in mason jars.
On some evenings, these tales seem more tangible than the very room I inhabit.
The coffee has cooled. The candle flickers gently. My grandmother's portrait gazes upon me as I weave stories of women who preserve memories in mason jars.
On some evenings, these tales seem more tangible than the very room I inhabit.
She inherited her grandmother's thimble collection, each carrying a decade's worries: 1960s war anxiety, 1970s financial fears, 1980s concerns about her daughter's choices. She wore the 1995 thimble while hemming her daughter's wedding dress. Should I expand this into a full story? #shortfiction
September 8, 2025 at 10:56 PM
She inherited her grandmother's thimble collection, each carrying a decade's worries: 1960s war anxiety, 1970s financial fears, 1980s concerns about her daughter's choices. She wore the 1995 thimble while hemming her daughter's wedding dress. Should I expand this into a full story? #shortfiction