
Discover the Regency & Napoleonic Era Prompt Book

Family-owned Tennessee book publisher offering affordable editing, author coaching, and publishing services for indie authors.

There’s something timeless about the American West.
Maybe it’s the endless horizons stretching beneath a painted sky, the lonely rider following a river through mountain country, or the creak of a stagecoach rolling across a dusty trail while adventure waits just over the next ridge. Whatever it is, the Western has never truly faded from our imagination.
That’s why I’m excited to announce that Realms Unwritten: Under Western Skies is currently in processing for publication and moving steadily toward release.
Inspired by the spirit of classic frontier storytelling, this latest addition to the Realms Unwritten prompt book series explores the enduring themes that have made Western fiction a beloved genre for generations.
If your bookshelf includes works by Louis L’Amour or Zane Grey, you’ll feel right at home beneath these skies.
If you grew up watching the larger-than-life screen presence of Clint Eastwood or the enduring frontier heroism of John Wayne, you’ll recognize the spirit that helped shape this collection.
And if you’re completely new to the Western genre but find yourself drawn to tales of open country, frontier courage, lawmen and outlaws, pioneers and prospectors, then this book was created with you in mind as well.
The goal isn’t simply to revisit familiar Western tropes. It’s to provide writers, artists, worldbuilders, role-players, and dreamers with a rich collection of prompts designed to spark new stories and fresh adventures beneath vast skies and distant mountain ranges.
Whether you’re developing a novel, sketching artwork, building a campaign setting, or simply looking for inspiration, Under Western Skies offers opportunities to saddle up and head into unexplored territory.
One of the joys of creating these prompt books is exploring genres that continue to inspire readers and creators alike. The Western remains one of the most enduring storytelling traditions ever created because its themes are universal. With Realms Unwritten: Under Western Skies, I wanted to capture both the grandeur of the landscape and the human stories that unfold within it.
The publication process is underway, and I’ll be sharing updates as we move closer to release. When Realms Unwritten: Under Western Skies becomes available, you’ll be able to purchase it online, and we’ll also have copies available at our next in-person book sale.
Until then, keep your boots clean, your campfire burning, and your imagination pointed toward the horizon.
Because I (Megan) need another platform to manage like I need to stub my toe every Thursday, I’ve decided to bite the bullet and start a Substack.
Some of it will be dedicated to writing tips and tricks (like what is already listed on this site). And I’ll likely re-post some of the stuff already written here on there as well, while expanding on things there.
But what will ONLY exist on Substack will be my stories. On occasion, I’ll have snippets here to link to there, and even on Substack those posts will be condensed versions of what will later be published in longer form. Because the end goal for all my stories is to publish in paper/hard back and/or ebook.
Starting this trend is my retelling of Jules Verne’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea as a diesel/steam punk space opera with a few gender swapped character to make things even more intriguing. You can start reading it here and I will endeavor to post monthly updates. This endeavor may prove difficult considering all the things I’m juggling but it is a passion project I’m willing to juggle for because I want to read this story too!
As authors we’re often told to write what we want to read, and yeah, this is what I want to read so I’ve got to make the effort to write it first!
D.B. Hopson here and I wanted to say Sunday’s book signing in Cleveland was something special, and I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who stopped by, talked stories, and picked up copies of the writing prompt books. Seeing people flip through the pages, point out favorite prompts, and talk about the kinds of stories they want to tell reminded me exactly why I started putting these collections together in the first place.
There’s something satisfying about watching an idea spark behind somebody’s eyes.
For those who came out and supported the books — thank you. Independent publishing lives and dies on word of mouth, local support, and readers willing to take a chance on something handmade and heartfelt. It means more than you probably realize.
The good news is the work hasn’t slowed down.
There are several more prompt books currently in the works, each exploring different themes, aesthetics, and genres. Some lean into strange little corners of storytelling that don’t fit neatly on a shelf. I’ve been spending long evenings sketching concepts, refining prompts, and building collections designed to help writers break through creative walls and find stories they didn’t know they had in them.
If all goes according to plan, the next time we make our way back out to Cleveland in the coming months, there should be at least one or two brand-new prompt books sitting on the table alongside the current collection.
Until then, keep writing. Keep daydreaming. Keep chasing the odd ideas.
Most stories worth telling start small.
There are places that live in your bones whether you intend them to or not.
For me, it’s the stretch of road that bends toward Cades Cove—that quiet, almost reverent unfolding of field and mountain that never quite looks the same twice, and yet somehow never changes at all.
On Friday, April 24, from 10 AM to 3 PM, I’ll be there—well, just outside it—on the grounds of the Cades Cove Museum for a craft fair, book signing, and sale.
And if you’re wondering why a museum hosts a craft fair in the first place: it’s both practical and a little poetic. Events like these bring people in, keep the lights on, and quietly ensure that the stories held in those buildings—stories of families, land, and long memory—don’t slip through the cracks. Publicity helps. Funding helps more. Showing up helps most of all.
I grew up passing through Maryville on the way to the mountains, though “passing through” isn’t quite right.
It’s where my parents were married. It’s where my husband proposed—at the same church, because apparently we are nothing if not consistent in our sentimentality.
And beyond it, always, the pull of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
Summers meant camping with the Pathfinders at Lazy Daze in Townsend—a place that felt, even then, like a threshold between the everyday and something older. We’d bike through the Cove until our legs gave out, or until someone spotted a deer and the entire group decided that was reason enough to stop and stare like we’d never seen one before.
Even now, years later, something shifts the moment I turn onto those roads. It’s not nostalgia, exactly. It’s sharper than that. A kind of recognition.
Like the mountains remember me back.
I’ve had a series of children’s stories—Appalachian “princess” tales—rattling around in my head for a while now. They’re stubborn things. They refuse to be rushed, which is inconvenient but probably correct.
One day, they’ll make their way into the world. For now, though, I’m starting somewhere quieter.
At the craft fair, I’ll be releasing my first poetry chapbook—a small, handmade collection rooted in this region and the way it has shaped me. First editions of chapbooks tend to be a little different from the books you order online without thinking. They’re often limited, assembled by hand, imperfect in the best possible way.
This one is no exception.
It’s been a labor of love—mine in the words, my husband’s in the artwork. Between us, we’ve managed to produce something that feels less like a product and more like an object you happened to come across and decided to keep.
Eventually, I’ll make it available more broadly. But not yet.
For now, I’m doing this the old way.
No preorders. No “link in bio.” No quiet warehouse waiting to ship copies across the country.
If you’re at the craft fair, you’ll find it. If you’re not, you’ll miss this particular version of it—the handmade, first-run edition that smells faintly of ink and effort.
There’s something honest about that. A little inconvenient, maybe. But honest.
If you’re already planning a trip to the mountains, or if you need an excuse to take the long way somewhere, come by.
Walk the grounds. Support the museum. Pick up something made by hand. Stay longer than you meant to.
I’ll be there with a small stack of chapbooks, probably rearranging them more often than necessary, trying to look like I expected any of this.
And if nothing else, you’ll get to stand at the edge of the Cove for a moment—and remember, or discover, what it feels like when a place refuses to let you go.