John Bryant
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johnbryantwrites.bsky.social
John Bryant
@johnbryantwrites.bsky.social
1.3K 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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johnbryantwrites.bsky.social
Coffee IS a miracle! 😂☕
snow white from snow white and the seven dwarfs is drinking coffee from a coffee pot .
Alt: Snow White drinks a never-ending rush of coffee from coffee pot.
media.tenor.com
November 14, 2025 at 2:49 PM
johnbryantwrites.bsky.social
Is Reverend Copeland the devil in disguise? #WIPSnips #writesky #amwriting
The #WIPSnips word of the day is "build." Here's a snipped from my historical fantasy joint, SLAVES OF GOD: Birdie plopped down next to Zeke and traced the contours of his face with the gun barrel. “I knew he didn’t have two cents to rub together, so I suggested the church had more than enough. Even showed him where it was. While he was busy trying to bust it open, my black jack came in real handy.” She stared Cope down. “So don't blame me," she said. "I stuck to the plan: you build him back up, I keep him on the hook. He was gonna run, so I had to improvise. Can’t blame me if he bit too soon.” Three months of scheming. Sowing trust. Making sure all the moving parts clicked into place. Was it all for nothing? Time to call it a wash? And then it came to him. “What if he did steal the money?" Birdie furrowed her brow. “Come again?” “Think about it,” Cope said, the words coming faster now. “This could still work. Folks will get all riled up when they hear Crown of Thorns got robbed. And when it comes out Zeke was behind it? They’ll nod like they saw it coming. Probably even feel sorry for me. ‘Poor Reverend Copeland. Only trying to save a lost little lamb.’”
November 13, 2025 at 3:57 PM
johnbryantwrites.bsky.social
Me when I edit my work.
a man in a white shirt and tie is standing in front of a microphone and saying `` everything is garbage '' .
Alt: Captain Holt from Brooklyn 99 stands in front of a microphone and says "Everything is garbage."
media.tenor.com
November 12, 2025 at 9:30 PM
johnbryantwrites.bsky.social
My life! 🤣
November 12, 2025 at 9:27 PM
johnbryantwrites.bsky.social
Reverend Copeland's lies betrayed by his own skin. #WIPSnips #amwriting #writesky
The #WIPSnips word for November 12th is "shirt." Here's a snippet from my urban fantasy joint, SLAVES OF GOD: He stripped down to his drawers and peeled off his undershirt. His body told a story. One different than the preacher told. A patchwork of healed-over cuts and stab wounds, scars from bullets and old burns told the story of battles fought and lost. Each a reminder of days past.
November 12, 2025 at 3:31 PM
johnbryantwrites.bsky.social
Yup!
a woman wearing glasses and a leopard print shirt is holding her hand up in the air .
Alt: A woman wearing glasses and a leopard print shirt holds her hand in the air, pointing to it with her other hand.
media.tenor.com
November 10, 2025 at 7:38 PM
johnbryantwrites.bsky.social
Supermarket Sweep targets a new demographic.
November 10, 2025 at 6:13 PM
johnbryantwrites.bsky.social
Doh! Stupid first draft typos.
November 8, 2025 at 4:09 PM
johnbryantwrites.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
johnbryantwrites.bsky.social
Been there, fam. Some folks always tryna find a way to push you out.
November 5, 2025 at 4:53 PM
johnbryantwrites.bsky.social
I'm John and I write about it all the way through my house and then I got the money for the car.

😂🙃🤪

That and I write historical fantasy.
November 3, 2025 at 9:49 PM
johnbryantwrites.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
johnbryantwrites.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
johnbryantwrites.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