Wednesday Write-in #12

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Welcome to the Wednesday Write-in!

CAKE.shortandsweet runs a write-in every week to writers to practise their skills, and get chatting to each other about their work. Everyone is welcome to join in, and the more people you tell, the more everyone will get out of it.

We hope everyone is getting on well with NaNoWriMo, those of you brave enough to try!

 

Prompts

carpet burn  ::  disagreement  ::  woodsmoke  ::  melt  ::  tie pin

Guidelines

There are no hard and fast rules, but here are some brief guidelines:

  • You can use the prompts as inspiration or try to work them into your story somehow. Use as many as you want.
  • When your story is done, post it online (your blog/twitter/in a comment here), tag with #wednesdaywritein and comment with a link so we can read it. You can write as many stories as you like.
  • Please take the time to read and comment on as many other stories as you can.

Featured Story

We’ll feature our favourite story on the blog with a review of it and links to the author’s blog/twitter/facebook if relevant.

Posts will generally go up at 9am(ish) on Wednesday – stories are due by 10am Thursday (UK) to be considered for the featured story. You can keep posting your work after this, it just won’t be featured.

The winner will also be eligible to publish on our special CAKE.shortandsweet genre through Ether Books.

Rewards

We’ll keep track of who takes part in the write-ins, and you earn points for different things.

  • Take part in a write-in = 1 point.
  • Comment on other people’s stories = 1 point.
  • Share/reblog this post = 1 point.

When you reach ten points the editing team will give detailed feedback on a story of your choice. This only counts for separate sessions—so if you write five stories for one write-in, that counts as one, and if you share on both facebook and twitter, that’s one.

 

Please look for us on Facebook or Twitter to keep up with the write-ins, or click the follow button to get blog updates!

Don’t forget to read our Previous Issues and check out the Submissions page if you’d like to be a CAKE.author!

 

Any questions? Otherwise, have fun writing!

36 thoughts on “Wednesday Write-in #12”

  1. Pingback: WWIn: Fireworks | beccaaudra

  2. Amazingly, it’s before 10 at night and I’ve written it, and it has a photo! This is NANOWRIMO forcing me into organisation. I actually saw this guy on fireworks night, so I made up his backstory (sorry about that random skater guy):

    WWIn: Fireworks

    Reply ↓

    • I think having insomnia sometimes really helps a writer! I loved your story it was full of imagery and created an evocative atmosphere. The depiction of the relationship between son and mother is really well outlined as is his hope for change and realisation that this might not happen.

      Reply ↓

  3. Here’s this weeks.

    Innocent Words

    She loved watching her mum get dressed to go out with her friend. It was one of the very few times she was allowed to stop up past her bedtime. Her parents didn’t like going out without each other but once a week her mum would make the effort so that she would not upset her friend who didn’t get out much and was not married.
    She would sit on her parents’ bed and watch as her mum sat in front of the mirror and turned into a glamorous star. First she would have a long bath, which was another break with tradition as she usually had a shower in the morning and most nights she could hear her have another one. Her mum loved having a bath. She put lots of bath oil in the water saying it was her treat and made her feel good and smell nice. The oil was expensive which is why her mum kept it in her bottom drawer only to be used on special occasions.
    Her mum had long dark hair she usually tied back or put up in a hurried bun to keep it out of the way as she did the cleaning. She didn’t earn much from her job but her dad said that every bit counts and her mum said she didn’t really mind cleaning other people’s toilets. Tonight her hair was long and gently curled. She could smell the faint odour of hot hair as the curling tongues cooled down on the floor next to the bed. Her mum balanced her elbow on the dressing table as she gently drew a thin black line on her upper eyelid over the cream coloured eye shadow. A third coat of mascara on all her lashes, a dusting of blusher and two coats of lip gloss and the transformation was almost complete. On the back of the wardrobe door hung a beautiful sky blue dress. It had a layer of chiffon on the top with an embroidered sequinned pattern which glittered in the light even though it was not moving. The underneath was a slightly darker shade of blue and made of satin. A pair of black stiletto shoes stood waiting underneath the dress. Once, when her mum was working, she had tried on the shoes but fell over and sprained her ankle. She told her parents that she had slipped on the rug which was then banished to her dads shed in the back garden.
    ‘How do I look?’ It was the same question every week and every time she gave the same answer, ‘like a celebrity’.
    It was an unusually hot night that night and she found it difficult to sleep. First the duvet was on then she kicked it off. Her dad had gone to bed what felt like ages ago. She could hear her mum put the key in the front door then quietly come up the stairs. Her mum always got undressed in the bathroom on her nights out so she wouldn’t wake her dad. She got out of bed, opened the door to the bathroom and watched as the lovely blue dress slipped off her mums shoulders and down onto the floor. Her mum smiled at her through the mirror.
    – ‘What’s up? Couldn’t sleep?’
    – ‘You’ve hurt your back.’
    Neither of them knew that her dad also couldn’t sleep and had just got out of bed to use the toilet. He heard them speak as he entered the bathroom.

    She had never heard of the words carpet burn before. And she never wanted to hear them again because they made her dad very angry and her mum really upset.
    She sat on her parents bed and watched as her mum packed a suitcase.

    The mascara rolled off the dressing table onto the floor but her mum did not seem to mind and left it there. Her mum left her there waiting for her to come back.

    Her dad said she would have a long wait.

    Reply ↓

  4. Pingback: Story :: Canary « a slice of imagination

  5. Thought I would write about someone a little different today.

    Melody hopped up on the stool. “Pour me a drink and I’ll sing like a sparrow.”
    “I think you mean canary,” Nate said, reaching for the bottle.

    Canary (282 words)

    Reply ↓

    • I loved your ‘back alley gasp’ sentence as well as lots more. There are so many sentences which drip with imagery and help create the atmosphere of your story it would be hard to choose just one which stands out.

      Reply ↓

    • I loved the ‘back alley gasp’ too. I also like the contrast of the name Melody with the shadowy world she inhabits- gives me hope she might find some escape at some point.

      Reply ↓

      • Thanks, Elaine. It’s interesting that you say that. These are actually characters from a novel idea I’ve had bouncing around in my brain for a couple of years so I do know exactly what happens to them … I think 🙂

  7. #wednesdaywritein

    The Present
    My big brother had turned 18 that week. He opened the small gift box left for him by my uncle. I was already surprised: my Uncle John never gave us gifts. My mum’s sister, Aunt Lisa, did; she gave wonderful gifts. She made me the proud recipient of a knee length blue dressing gown adorned with an orange exotic bird that made the hairs on my arms and legs stand up when I wrapped it round me. Moreover, she had given me an assortment of novelty soaps in the shape of old fashioned cars that I treasured despite their being more pleasing to the eye than nose (or perhaps it was because of this).
    This small gift box contained a thin strip of gold that my brother closely examined making me think something important lay at the centre of it.
    ‘What is it?’ I asked.
    ‘A tie pin,’ he said holding it to the middle of his chest, now.
    ‘What’s it for?’
    ‘A tie,’ he took care to grin so that there was no rub.
    I looked confused.
    He searched out a dark brown, nylon tie from a drawer and quickly fastened it round his neck so that it dangled in front of his t – shirt. He placed the tie pin on it casually making it sit lopsidedly.
    ‘So what does it do?’
    ‘Keeps it neat,’ he said with a shrug that meant he thought it was for keeping it neat.
    This was the first time I had seen a tie pin or at least the first time I had noticed one.
    Was a tie not already neat? I had been stifled on my first days at school that summer by neatness. I could not wait in the evenings to be free of the strange grip my tie and starched blouse had around my neck.
    I concluded that tie pins were useless but then he had been given many incongruous things on this occasion: various giant shiny keys displayed on shiny material that reminded me of my dressing gown and numerous tankards he said he would not be drinking from. Maybe if they had been made of soap he could have lined them up on a shelf like my collection.
    I think he must have been glad that I had asked Mum to buy him a record by The Specials from me. He danced around to it in a fast and jerky way without hint of self consciousness. I beamed and joined in.
    That night I perched on his bed behind him and watched as he tried out his strange accessory. He took the trouble to dress in a shirt and tie and I felt the knot in my stomach. This time it was not The Fonz or John Travolta looking back at us. He looked earnestly at himself and, not for the first time that day, I felt peculiar unable to articulate that I was sensing the beginning of absence.

    Reply ↓

    • Like the soap that is pleasing to the eye not the nose! Also am glad you’ve gone into detail about the tie pin, it is a very strange accessory I feel. The voice is nice, vulnerable. ‘I felt peculiar unable to articulate that I was sensing the beginning of absence’, that’s quite a knotted line. I liked what it unraveled to.

      Reply ↓

    • I really enjoyed the ending to this, it’s got a lovely nostalgia-evoking atmosphere. I stumbled a bit through some of it, you had some redundant phrases that could be cut to make it sleeker, but overall a really interesting and bittersweet portrait of their relationship.

      Reply ↓

  8. Pingback: Heat « Craig Towsley

  10. Pingback: The Annual Games « Rebecca Dudley – Collected Stories

  12. Pingback: Story: Melt in the Mouth « The Hive of Jenbee

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