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Log in Sign up Roadmap Writer Ownership Author Websites Academy Pricing Reading Room Novlr is now writer-owned! Join us and shape the future of creative writing. THE PLACE TO WRITE YOUR STORY. Built by writers, for writers, Novlr is the world’s only writer-owned creative writing platform. Join a community with writers and their goals at the heart of everything we do. Write for free * Jellypuses * At Sea * Voice of the Deep * Mid Shift Jellypuses Personally, like, I don't mind the jellypuses. Some of 'em are even pretty. They stay up there outta the way, 'cept when they're dippin'. But that's at night so it's a'right by me. I mean, I believe in live and let live. They're fine till the big ones come an' they start groupin'. The stench gets up a bit much, hmph, turns the air blue, heh. An' then they're dippin' by day an churnin' up the water. It's dangerous for the boats an' scares the fish. Either or, I hear, they're suckin' 'em up an' the beds are empty, 'cos they don't come back. Leasts not like before. Then, I get what people are sayin'. There's more an' more. An' where do they come from, anyways? No mention 'bout them in the Good Book. So what are they? Maybe we needs control 'em. Cut 'em back so we're not overrun. Some are sayin' they've seen 'em be'n crawlin' in the fields, an' that ain't right. They could outnum'er so fast we wouldn't ev'n recognise our own place. Fix it now is what I say. Fix it now, an' fix it for good. Written in Novlr by Tom Whyte In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end. Powering the world’s creative writers. 112K writers have written 593M words in 190K projects. Powering the world's creative writers. 112K writers have written 593M words in 190K projects. MORE THAN A WRITING APP Set your goals, get insights and hone your craft. WRITING STREAK Write something every day to build your streak. S M T W T F S MONTHLY WRITING GOAL All Projects 0 / 15,000 Write 15000 words in any project every month to complete your monthly goal. THE READING ROOM NetGalley: The Ultimate Guide for Indie Authors The Fichtean Curve: How to Escalate Tension and Conflict What Kind of Editing is Right For Me? All posts WORDS WRITTEN Day 1,042 today WORD COUNT Day 11,947 TOP 3 PLAYLISTS Our top 3 playlists this week. Writing love scenes Writing the vastness of space Writing future cities All Playlists DAILY WRITING GOAL All Projects 0 / 2,500 Write 2500 words in any project every day to complete your daily goal. POPULAR CHANNELS 192 online Jump straight into some of our most popular channels! Writing Sprints Writing resources and advice Ask for feedback WORDS DELETED Day 68 today "Really impressed with the super clean interface on @novlrtweets as I take it for a test run in preparation for #NaNoWriMo. So far, it's totally blowing all the years I've squabbled with Microsoft Word out of the water. Even having a nice note section is 🤯." @lemonlaze "I love @novlrtweets! They have a crisp ux, the price is great, and their new-feature roadmap is public so you can always see what they’re building next." @blinkingcursor BUILT BY WRITERS, RUN BY WRITERS, OWNED BY WRITERS Novlr is the only creative writing platform to be owned by the writers who use it. Join our community of writer-owners, co-own the platform you use, and help shape the future of creative writing. 0:00 1:14 Tell me more EXPERIENCE INTEGRATED LEARNING. Learn while you write with fully integrated courses on Novlr Academy. Explore Academy The ship, the stalwart vessel known as 'The Serenity Mariner,' was plunged into chaos as the sky became a swirling maelstrom of opalescent tendrils. The flying jellyfish, their bioluminescent bodies illuminating the blackened sky, descended upon the ship with an otherworldly fury. Their membranous bodies pulsated as they sailed through the air, their long, poisonous tentacles trailing behind them like deadly streamers. Captain Anabelle "Storm-Eye" Hawthorne stood at the helm, her grip firm on the worn, salt-crusted wheel. Her eyes, the color of the stormy sea itself, narrowed as she watched the spectral onslaught. Years of navigating treacherous waters had hardened her, but she'd never faced a tempest of living, breathing creatures before. "Steady on, lads!" she roared above the howling wind, her voice carrying a command that could not be ignored. "Don't let the sea's nightmarish ballet scare you! These are just jellyfish, no more than that!" Write to Play: Rediscover the Joy of Writing Introduction 0:00 0:33 1x YOU WRITES, WE REFINE. Advanced proofreader powered by ProWritingAid. Catch typos and spelling errors. Get an expeditious thesaurus. Improve readability. Avoid grammar, mistakes. PRICING Novlr is free or you can upgrade for pro features. 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