Quietly Collected (2/4)
And I'm being loud about it
If you’ve been around for long enough, you know that I haunt this space since end of January 2025. In March, I already did one Quietly Collected post in which I listed all the posts and substacks I enjoyed for those three months.
I tagged no one. I was a bit shy.
But I grew into an unbothered, persistent nuisance, so that’s a you problem now. This thing is full of tags. Choke on them.
Lovingly.
I suppose this post is as much a thank-you-letter as a for-fucks-sake-give-them-the-attention-they-deserve-letter. It’s about the writers who’ve lit up my screen, who’ve made me laugh, made me think, made me quietly spiral in the best way. Some of them write with razor precision, others with aching softness. Some are generous beyond belief in how they show up here. All of them bring me joy, in wildly different ways.
So, with zero restraint and full sincerity, here’s the writers I would not want to miss, because in one way or another, they make the fires outside a little more bearable.
The “I Don’t Have Favorites”-
just that I do. And it’s this bunch.
You’re special to me in ways I don’t articulate because I’m 5’5 and supposedly rude and stubborn. No soft shit. But I need you to know, so you guys take priority position up here before everyone’s attention span runs out.
Sean, you’re one of those people who can write about absolutely anything and make it feel like a story I want to sit with. A weird little memory, a made-up moment, something about friendship or grief or whatever’s haunting the edges—you make it land.
I love how your writing lets things be a little messy, a little uncertain, without trying to wrap them up too neatly. You’re playful with structure, thoughtful with language, and never afraid to get a little strange (in the best way). And even when it’s fiction, there’s always this emotional undercurrent that makes it feel real and personal.
You bring me joy because I never know exactly where a piece will take me—but I always know it’ll be worth the trip.
Andrew, you know I’m not usually a high fantasy person. It’s just not my usual reading lane. But yours? Yours grabbed me by the collar and dragged me along. It also refuses to let go. But that’s fine.
I’m a little obsessed with your writing. And your narrations are awesome. If writing gets too boring, you might want to look into reading audiobooks for a living.
Your worldbuilding is crazy in the best way. I feel like you could write a book just about all the details and structures in your writing (guess what, I’d read that, too). It’s honestly amazing and absolutely mindblowing. And the fact that you’re churning out updates like your life depends on it? I’m in awe. It feels like you’re always ten steps ahead of the reader, but you never make us feel left behind.
You bring me joy because you’ve made me care about something I didn’t think was mine—and that’s magic. Also: you’re kind. You’re encouraging. You cheer for others, you show up, and it shows. I admire that as much as your writing.
Happy, you have no idea how much it meant that you were the first to pledge—and the very first to go “paid” when I opened that option. Before that, you were also the first to shove compliments down my throat. I still don’t know how to take them. I still feel weirdly detached reading them because I simply can’t grasp that anyone would enjoy my silly, little stories the way you seem to do, but just know that you saved some of that joy to create in me.
But of course, you create, too. And I’m desperately waiting for you to open that paid-function. I keep refreshing the damn page at least once a day.
Talking to you is an instant mood lift—your humor is quick and you’re a burst of light and energy.
Jack and The Beanstalk Café saved my love for reading. I literally can’t pause the story. I’m hooked, and so, so excited for every update you drop. It’s clever and cozy and quietly addictive in a way I didn’t see coming. You’ve built this world that feels like comfort food, minus Jack. He’s a jerk and he needs to be pushed into an oven or something. #GillDeservesBetter or #MakeHimSuffer—whatever tag you prefer.
Back to the story: I can read any chapter again and suddenly I’m 8 again, hiding under the covers at night, flipping pages like I have to know what happens next. It literally reminded me why I fell in love with stories in the first place.
Your writing makes me feel like magic is still out there.
You bring me joy because your work feels like peeking into a diary. Whenever you share a snippet with us, I am beyond excited. And then it is over far too fast. I can’t wait for the day where we will get the full thing. I will take days off my job to read it cover to back—not kidding.
Your Sunday posts are such a highlight. They’re not just “roundups,” they’re genuinely thoughtful. You clearly put care into every link, every recommendation, every prompt. It’s like opening a little box of creative encouragement each week. The prompts especially? They always make me want to stop scrolling and write. You make space for people to actually do the thing, and that’s rare.
You bring me joy because you’re generous with your creativity and open in a way that makes others feel invited in. It’s all just very real, very warm, and very you.
Edward, you are one of the very first substacks I followed and started reading when I signed up. And I’m glad I did. PineBox Readings is just one of my all-time favorites on here and I hope that one day, I will have it as an actual book in my handbag.
I love the deep themes, the language, the images in the writing, the casual dread—it’s all just so good. It’s dark, gory, filthy—in the best, most deliciously wrong ways. You don’t tidy things up for comfort. You lean into the mess, and I love that.
It’s not shock for shock’s sake; it’s controlled chaos. You write like someone who knows exactly where to stick the knife for maximum effect, and I mean that with the highest respect.
You bring me joy because your work reminds me that writing doesn’t have to behave. It can bleed. It can rot. It can spit in your face. And sometimes, that’s exactly what I need to read.
I just love your writing so much. Your stories are moody and surreal, a little dark but beautifully crafted. There’s this perfect tension between bite and heartbreak, that weird space where imagination and emotion meet .
You bring me joy because your writing feels like stepping into a liminal space—half dream, half memory.
The Model Maker, The Lesser Evil, Parasocial Activity, seriously, you have no idea how often I turn to your writing for comfort or just to fill time. I’m not ever getting tired of it. Quite the opposite. The more I read of your writing, the more I want to read—preferably things you wrote.
Having similar challenges in life, I look up to you in a way I can’t describe. Just know that I look your way more often than you will know, in many ways.
Josh, Evvy is what pulled me in—and it’s what keeps me coming back. That story grabbed me from the first moment. There’s this quiet tension to it, like something’s humming underneath the surface, and I have to keep reading to find out where it’s going.
You write characters like they’re real people you’ve been watching for years—like you know what they’re afraid of even when they don’t. Evvy herself feels layered and sharp and strange in the most compelling way. The pacing, the voice, the little moments that hint at something deeper… it’s all so well done.
You bring me joy because you write like someone who trusts the reader. You don’t spoon-feed. You just build, and let the story breathe, and I get totally sucked in.
It’s phenomenal (did I spell this right, feeling a little bye-lingual right now, haha) and I am looking forward to read so much more of your writing.
Spencer, your Substack hits me like a gut punch—in all the best ways. You dig into cosmic and body horror with zero hesitation, and I am obsessed with it. You blend grotesque imagery with deeper, unsettling ideas and I need you to know that I can’t wait until you publish something that I can buy in physical form.
Your writing is something that I would carry around in my handbag so that I have it with me when I meet for coffee with friends or just wait for a late train somewhere.
You're pushing boundaries, and you do it with purpose—not cheap shock.
My friends always ask me if I grew up in a cult (no, just strictly catholic) but your cult is much more fun and I am happy to have found it. Thank you for your genius.
Now start publishing, please. (a threat, but with deep admiration)
Haunted Travel Journal? Sold.
Your replies? They’re little works of art. Every time you show up in someone’s comments, it’s like getting a letter from some secret, fog-drenched dimension—whimsical, eerie, a little bit playful, and so carefully crafted. I honestly look forward to them just as much as your main posts.
Your writing in general has this beautifully weathered tone. There’s always a little edge, a bit of shadow tucked behind the warmth, and I love that. It’s the kind of voice that stays with me long after I’ve read it.
You bring me joy because you don’t just post. You haunt. Quietly, creatively, and always with intention. Your presence feels like story and myth and personality all braided into one, and I’m honestly a little obsessed.
Tell Bob I said hi. How’s the moth doing?
Rich, hi there. As you know, your poetry hits me right in the chest. It's raw, gut-wrenching and full of emotion and it cuts straight to the bone. You’ve got this insane talent for unearthing something so real, so human, that it’s impossible not to feel it deeply.
You pick word after word with such brutal precision, building lines that echo in my head long after I’ve read them. It’s stellar craft, but also bravery—because you’re not afraid to dig into the heavy stuff, the messy stuff, and leave it all out there.
You bring me joy not because everything’s easy or pretty, but because your work matters. It reminds me that poetry can do more than look beautiful—it can wound, it can heal, and it can make us feel less alone in that process.
I am obsessed with Short Shivers. It’s entirety of it—but you know that. Fragile Steps has a special place in my heart (and head). Noah lives there rent-free.
Your writing is punchy and atmospheric and so well thought-through. I’m always surprised at the turns it takes. Your horror hits just right. It's sharp, stylish, and doesn’t waste time getting under the skin. I love how your stories manage to be both eerie and fun—you’re clearly having a blast with the genre, and it makes me, as a reader, lean in closer.
What you do so well is set the mood fast. You give us just enough detail to feel grounded—and then twist it, or rot it, or let it flicker into something that makes my stomach drop.
You bring me joy because your horror isn’t just jump scares. It’s discomfort, tension, curiosity. And you make it a damn good time, too.
The “What Are You Even Doing When You Haven’t Given These A Read Yet???????”
because what the fuck is wrong with you, you need to change this basically yesterday. But it’s okay! Here’s a list!
So there is a length limit. Fun. But mostly a little problematic because I have like… a couple more people to tag. So excuse the format.
I haven’t gotten to take a deeper look at the following ones, but I see them on my dashboard sometimes, and a few I actually have read at least one of their pieces, so I feel like they definitely deserve a little spot in Quietly Collected as well. One day, I will find a way to give them a more thorough read, but until then, maybe someone else wants to take a peek:
, , , , , , , , , and probably a bunch of people I am forgetting on a list somewhere lost in Notion.It’s godforsaken, unbearably warm and by tomorrow, I’ll probably remember a few I forgot, and I am so so sorry but I can’t help it.
I need another coffee, some pistachio ice cream, and a spot near my tomato plant in the shade. The traitor is thriving for some reason.
That’s it. That’s the list. If you write good things and are kind to people, I will notice. You’ve been warned.
Lovingly.
This is so heartfelt. You. Are. Amazing!!!! 🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧👻
Ugly crying. I was not expecting so much love today. "Thank you" is not enough to express my gratitude to have you in my life. We're just online friends (for now?) but you count more than real life encounters I could have had.