Wednesday Write-in #21


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.

 

Prompts

wreck  ::  cake tin  ::  chipped  ::  excuse  ::  sway

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 12am(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.

Get Involved

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

Join our CAKE.writers group on Scribophile, an online community for writers to give and receive constructive criticism.

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!

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38 thoughts on “Wednesday Write-in #21

  1. Pingback: Dzinski – Wreck « Craig Towsley

  2. Pingback: WWin#21: The Mary Rose | beccaaudra

  3. My write in: The Wreck Look

    “Tammy, are you sporting a new look?” said Jake gawking at his girlfriend. She stood in the doorway, swaying slightly from running up all those flights of stairs. She was wearing a necklace made of chipped pieces of porcelain strung together. They weren’t small and hidden. Oh no, that wasn’t Tammy’s style. These were large pieces from jars, plates and other crockery, big enough to be displayed in a giant cookware store. But that wasn’t it. When Jake was able to tear his eyes away from the crazy jewelry, he saw the cake tin in her hands. The clasp tried really hard to keep itself connected, but it wasn’t doing a good job hiding the contents inside. A piece of something caught the afternoon light from the window in the hallway making it flash. And again. “Tammy, you did it! You actually went back?”
    Tammy had finally caught her breath. She managed to put one foot in front of the other and pushed Jake out of the way, taking his place at the doorway. Jake stared back at her in disbelief. “How did… but you didn’t want… how… when…” he was still surprised.
    Tammy simply grabbed the side of the door and said, “Excuse me,” as she closed it.
    Jake sat down on the ground in front of the closed door and stared at the spot that she had been standing in a few moments ago. He didn’t know at the time that he’d have to wait more than a day before she’d open the door, and when she finally did, he wouldn’t be able to recognize her.

    • I like the energy in this piece, it’s dynamic and I feel like something big is happening – but it bothers me that we’re told so little about what’s going on, compared to the time you take describing Tammy. It places a lot of emphasis on her appearance and the necklace in particular, but I have no idea how to connect that to the mystery of the cake tin, or whether I even should? So I’m confused, but I’d like to know more. Would you consider writing this into a longer piece? 🙂

  4. Sea weed sways and ripples round the silent wreck, claimed by the merciless reef half a century before. Once a proud galleon commanding the high seas, its back was broken and ship and cargo and brave men sank to their watery grave. At first there was creaking and muffled crashes as the great masts and cannon fell to the sea bed, but then peace as the hull slowly settled into its final resting place, to lie undisturbed for all time.
    Coral marched across the carcass colonising old bones. Now the ghostly crew are creatures of the deep, and little fish of vivid rainbow colours outshine the gold and silver coins, which are now nothing more than shells, gently blanketed by the swirling sands of time.

      • Thank you very much, Anthony, but I’m not quite sure what you mean by ‘it’s been done before’. I suppose there’s really nothing new under the sun.

      • I should have elaborated because I certainly didn’t mean it as a slight. I was simply referring to the archetypal, once majestic ship that is now a wreck at the bottom of the sea.

      • Thanks again, Anthony. I didn’t take it as a slight, just wanted to know what you meant. And I agree with you completely, but the image lends itself so nicely to rather flowery prose!

    • I thought this was a very well written piece. I love ‘Coral marched…old bones.’ and ‘its back was broken’ . Very well done.

    • The imagery is lovely, really well done, but it feels a bit cold and empty – as in, there’s obviously a story there for those men who lost their lives, but they’re reduced to a couple of lines. I’d love to see you turn this into a story rather than a description – a couple of words would do it, just a hint of something happening, about to happen, or that happened once upon a time!

      • Hi Sarah – I’ve added a bit which I hope fits the bill., Do let me know!

        Sea weed sways and ripples round the silent wreck, claimed by the merciless reef half a century before. Once a proud galleon commanding the high seas, its back was broken and ship and cargo and brave men sank to their watery grave. At first there was creaking and muffled crashes as the great masts and cannon fell to the sea bed, but then peace as the hull slowly settled into its final resting place, to lie undisturbed for all time.
        Coral marched across the carcass colonising old bones. Now the ghostly crew are creatures of the deep, and little fish of vivid rainbow colours outshine the gold and silver coins, which are now nothing more than shells, gently blanketed by the swirling sands of time.
        That precious cargo, ingots and bullion and lives, all lost. Was this retribution? A punishment sent by native Gods against those strangers speaking in a foreign tongue who plundered and ravaged their people and their land?
        When the mighty storm lashed and violent waves crashed the ship onto the rocks, all the sailors’ prayers and penitence was for naught. They were doomed. Fear takes different guises, some were screaming, some were stoical, others were struck dumb. But every man went to his death that day, along with all the treasure in the hold.
        Now modern vessels cross the seas above their resting place unknowing and uncaring of what lies beneath.

      • Hi Elaine,

        How did you find rewriting it? Was it fun? Easy? I think going back to a piece to edit can be really hard sometimes 😀

        I like how you’ve brought in more of the human element here – not just the sailors, but the hint of places they’ve been, people they’ve ravaged. I’m now wondering if the sailors might have been pirates, or at least some kind of privateer. But yeah it’s got me thinking, which is great 😀

  5. #wednesdaywritein
    This one has a couple of expletives. Just to warn you.

    The Dump
    I had n’t expected to see a woman in this dump but she seemed to have the knack of making everyone else look out of place. Her elbows took the weight of her height as she propped up the bar. Her deliberate black roots scorched through the peroxide in her hair.
    I was desperate to talk to her, but she was a lone woman in a pub. I did n’t want to look like a sleaze. Besides, she terrified me. Instead, I watched her discreetly from the other side of the bar. She slugged from a bottle of beer from time to time and did n’t seem to look in my direction.
    When I returned the following night, she made the first move. She said she felt fucking sorry for me. Her language was foul and sexy and glorious. When she found us a seat in the corner, she asked me if I read books and said she liked the theatre.
    When I looked surprised she said, “What’s that look for? You think I just drink and arm wrestle?”
    “You arm wrestle?”
    “Jesus, you are a shittin’ novice,” she said.
    I mustered the courage to ask her out, “Should we see each other again? Away from here? A proper date or something?”
    “No. I like it here,” she said.
    I think we met up again: she was there anyway. When I asked if she wanted to sit, she said she’d rather stand. I was a nervous wreck who talked too much. She was n’t in a talkative mood: she closed down all my open ended questions. I fell silent. I did n’t want to witter on. I guessed she would n’t approve of that. We drank instead.
    She must have appreciated the silence as, right there at the bar, she brought her mouth to mine. She pulled me close and kissed me like we were alone.
    We swayed our way to hers. It was close.
    In the morning, there were no excuses. She just formed the full stop on my forehead with her lips.

    • The scene is so simple and good, that it could use without some of the extra language (like the description of her hair). You’re on to something here, at least in the opinion of a sucker for dive bar love stories (however improbable they might be).

      The kiss is the most challenging part of this piece and perhaps the most important–it was the point where I considered the Dump’s notions of attraction, affection and timing.

      I liked this.

      –AM

    • Once I got over the highly irritating distraction of “did n’t” (should be didn’t) I was gripped by the story and the setting. And a lovely ending.

      • Oh I didn’t mean to irritate. I’ll be careful in future! But thanks for saying you were gripped. I enjoyed writing this.

    • ‘I think we met up again’ confused me slightly as they obviously did. Did it mean did they make an arrangement to meet? Really liked the kiss off in the morning with the ‘full stop’ sentence. Guess she’ll move on to the next victim!

      • I hoped to convey that he thought she might be propping up the bar regardless and it was only he who fulfilled the arrangement. I quite like writing about her but need to think about her next move. Glad you liked the full stop ending.

  6. Pingback: Wednesday Write in #21: Cake Tin | Brassduke's Blog

  7. Pingback: Wednesday Write-in #21: Wretched Routine of a Wreck | Pen Tight | Edit Straight

  8. Pingback: The Cake Tin | Rebecca Dudley – Collected Stories

  9. Pingback: Story :: Titanium « a slice of imagination

  10. Pingback: Out with the old, in with the new. | patrickprinsloo

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