want to participate?
login or register

The Future of Collaborative Fiction

StoryMash, the future of collaborative fiction. A creative writing community for authors, amateur writers, readers and anyone interested in collaborative fiction and collaborative creative writing.


Authors and writers hone your creative writing skills. Collaborate on new fiction stories, or branch an existing fiction story in a different direction by writing the next chapter or even a chapter into its middle!

Authors, earn money for every chapter you write and self-publish on StoryMash. StoryMash rewards your creative writing talents by sharing at least 50% of the advertisement revenue.

Register to be a new StoryMash author today!


Readers participate in the collaborate writing community. Vote for your favorite chapters and influence which plots get written next. Provide your feedback, praise, and criticism to authors about their creative writing in discussions attached to every chapter.

Readers, find fiction stories that interest you. After you read a chapter, choose how you want the plot to continue by selecting a branch from among multiple "next" chapters.

While reading one of our great fiction stories, if the story doesn't continue the way you want or have a great idea on what should happen next and catch the collaborate writing bug, register to write a follow up chapter!

Click to Redisplay StoryMash Intro

Featured Chapter


BY Peppz


My balance was impeccable. One hundred and fifty, two hundred miles per hour, the wind felt like it was going to crush me. My bike somehow stayed balanced as I sped through the impeccably lit nocturnal cityscape. Multi-storied towers rose above me, passerby’s were just a blur, their faces forever forgotten. Probably I was passing former friends, former enemies, paramours, all forgotten without a trace like the characters on some Chinatown billboard. I felt hot inside my helmet and leather jacket now in the warm mid-summer weekday night. The mood within me was optimistic, I don’t know what other to say then that I felt alive breezing through the West Side highway of New York City. It’s hard to say what “feeling alive” really means but let’s say we know it’s not “feeling dead.”  

I now had to calm myself as I reached the university and its library. I saw the neon-lit letters for the Hunter College campus and docked my ride. As I removed my helmet I felt all the sweat pouring down my forehead. I knew my arms were going to also be gross under my leather jacket. I slowly took it off and sure enough felt a huge sweat stain on the back of my shirt. I took my right hand and peeled off my shirt from my ...