Top shelf challenge entries in a library of: Dawn

Last week's writing challenge was the most popular one yet. You're in for a treat with these highlights, let me tell you.

I have a story to tell you later. It’s about watching amber light spread across the domed hall of a Georgian palace, me watching from the window, the grass outside sharp with frost. It’s the first time in forever that I actively looked for dawn—tired—but not seeking to rush away from it. Helped, of course, by a cast iron radiator and sub-zero temperatures outside. It made me think of this prompt and the beautiful collection of writing that came from it.

This month, I threw you the prompt: Dawn

Dawn feels especially important at this time of year, in this part of the world. For me, it’s the middle of winter in London, where the sun takes one brief look above the horizon, yawns, and retreats again. Sometimes, a whole day feels like existing in a cloud. On others, dawn brings coral coloured skies that extent to sharp rays and long shadows, the sky broad and blue. Sometimes, I look for it after a night of frequent wakings, the room just light enough to see if my baby has her eyes closed. Some people look forward to dawn. Others dread it. Alas, no matter what, it always comes.

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*IMPORTANT - this post is too long for a single email, so if you’re reading this in your inbox and it cuts off, jump over to the Substack site or read on the app for the best experience.

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In this challenge, we had snatched moments of joy and sharp moments of pain, pinpoints of time and the inevitability of change. I think you’re going to like this selection, tough as it was to choose just a few.

This is the busiest challenge I’ve run so far, with over 30 new faces. If you took some time to write, thank you. We’ve all benefitted from reading your words.

Want to give yourself an additional challenge?

Last month, I promised to give you another level of challenge, in case you want to push your craft a little more. Writers have reached out to tell me that these three little minutes have led to bigger, longer, surprising pieces. If you want to see where more attention takes you, consider this:

Perspective can change everything.

Whose have you decided to use? If you have chosen to write in the third-person, shift it to first. If you’re omniscient, focus your piece on a single character.

What do you discover?

What surprises you?

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The next challenge will be announced on Wednesday 14th February.

In the meantime, if you’d like to read more of my posts about fiction, writing, and the publishing world, these might appeal:

The rise of book tropes: should authors be concerned?

How a playlist can help you edit your novel

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Let’s settle down with the top shelf, shall we? Oh, but before we do, can I tell you about a dawn that I saw recently? On Monday, we woke up in a hotel: a treat for getting through the past few months of house hopping whilst our flat was repaired. Friends, this hotel was in one wing of Ickworth Hall, an Italianate palace in Suffolk. I sat in the window with my baby and watched the sun rise over the domed hall whilst she banged her teddy on the window. It was Bridgerton levels of swoon-worthy, let me tell you. I sat. She babbled. The sun rose. We had croissants for breakfast. It’s a dawn that wrote itself into my memory, there and then. Clearly, there are some dawns that stuck with you too.

Ickworth Hall, Suffolk

Some of these I chose for beautiful lines that walked in and out of my head all day. Some are stripped back and raw, like dawn itself. Some communicate so much more than a morning. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I did. If you’d like to indulge yourself fully, have a look at the re-stacks on the original challenge post. Now, onto the winning entry!

The Winner -

Helen Gardiner

‘She was dreaming as the first rays of sunlight broke the dark shield of night,

I shattered her from the gift of sleep and its gentle warm embrace,

The birds were serenading the awakening of this auspicious day,

Songs would be written and shared by voices in the firelight of days to come

Tales of battle, of victory and vanquish,

But who would be the hero? Who would see another dawn?

Boudica rose and faced the golden sun rising in the East,

The fate of her people written in the Western sunset yet to come.’

I chose Helen’s piece because of the way it weaves narrative into poetry so beautifully. We see a figure emerge: Boudicca, no less, Queen of the Iceni, who led an uprising against the conquering Romans. Now, perhaps I’m biased, but as a Norfolkian, Boudicca has a special place in my heart (and in my bones). The contrast of light, of east and west, of teetering on the precipice of victory, works so well.

Here’s Helen’s original note. Go and throw some love in it’s direction.

Helen is a nature lover, gardener (with a name like that, you would have to be!) and budding photographer. She writes The Writing Window: a space that captures the wonderful details of nature and how we might live alongside it.

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The Top Shelf

I am a person who tries to turn reading choices into a full-body experience, with a playlist, an appropriate snack, and—ideally—in a setting that suits. It’s extra, but I’m a Pisces and had a lot of free time during my literature degree, so I’m sure you’ll forgive me. This month, I invite you to open the curtains to the first golden sunbeams of the day accompanied by a gigantic mug of tea. If you have small people in your house, stick them in front of Bluey for fifteen minutes. Enjoy.

There was a pattern of stolen calm in the entries this month, with a smattering of grief, lost opportunity, and the inevitable passing of time. Give each entry a read, show the writers some love, and use this as a great excuse to linger for a while. Trust me, you’ll want to.

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1.

‘It dawned on her that life would never be the same again. A friend once said to her that ‘nothing was irrevocable’. To which she’d replied, ‘apart from death’. And now she had another item for the list. There was no mistaking it, things had certainly changed. It was a new beginning in many ways but like the sun rising, it took a while to start to peek above the horizon and she’d had great anticipation, a bit like all those backpackers on beaches around the world – just so they could say they’d seen the sunset at x, y, z destination – no one really cared.

And like a sunrise, the slow start had then sped up at a pace she wasn’t quite ready to jog (or sprint) along to keep up with. Yet she had to.

As she said, irrevocable.’

Alex Devitt

What I love about this piece is the sense of character we get from the unknown speaker. The tone is conversational, the details intriguing, and there’s a hint that something is teetering on the precipice of disaster. I want to know this person, to travel with them as their journey unfolds.

Alex is busy editing her first novel, which will be a total treat if this is anything to go by!

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2.

‘I wake before the sun in these cold, bare months. The children need something to eat, and so I drag my body out of bed with the promise of a cup of hot comfort. The kettle whistles suddenly, and I skitter across the floor so as not to wake anyone else in our almost-overflowing home.

I take my spot on the couch as the children contentedly move around each other. I open my book to read. But, of course, they sense that my attention is not on them and pile onto my lap with the most delicious smiles.

The hubby awakes and I decide that I’m ready to change into my day clothes, perhaps do something about my hair and face. I sit on my bed and turn to face the ancient, cracked window.

I watch as the most brilliant dawn appears behind the spruce trees that guard the east of our yard—violent pink and deep purple and inky blue. I linger here, a sense of wonder expanding in my chest knowing that this moment is just for me.’

Aleesha Hradoway

Oh, dawn is a gift here, which Aleesha has given back to us. Amongst the chaos, the activity, the rapid pull into the day, is the invitation to sit quietly. Isn’t it amazing, how dawn happens universally, but feels like a private moment, too?

If you’d like more from Aleesha, I invite you to turn towards her Substack, which is all about the power of raising children and the work it can do to heal and challenge us.

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3.

‘Every morning I push up the window and lean out. To feel the cold air on my face, to watch the seagulls fly past, to hear the jackdaws calling on the downs. It’s usually past dawn; thank goodness.

But if I did see it, if I do see it, I know it would make my heart rise to meet it, tears prickle in the corners of my eyes, because beauty moves me like this. And beauty moves me so much more now, every day, after everything. After everything that’s happened, after everything that’s changed.

What I will say, though, is this: a new dawn is often not spectacular. Sometimes it’s cloudy and you hardly see the colours. Sometimes you think: why isn’t there more? And: why am I still in pain? And: why is this still so hard?

Then the next day the dawn is different and fierce pinks shoot across the sky. I drink in those pinks. I hold them in my heart, just for the moments they are there -

until they change, and fade, into a clear blue. Knowing they cannot, will not stay. This is what I know.’

Ellie Nova

There’s a whole life in these lines, isn’t there? I enjoy how the expectation of dawn is totally subverted, bringing it back to a reality of grey clouds and ennui. It changes, as Ellie beautifully captures, just like our perspective. Reading this was like being in a conversation I didn’t know I needed.

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4.

‘The moon is at its peak. The night is short. You are still awake, clinging to starlight.

The night sky stretches out above you like a dark canvas; you count the pinpricks of light. Silence is your friend. You are a thousand miles away from car horns and cortisol risings and crashing alarms and the day’s demands. You are a thousand miles away, chased by time. Minutes slam by, a jerk of the breaks in the pending doom of commutes.

Dawn approaches your night with a knife of promises.’

aleksander aleksander

This was a late entry and I am so glad I caught it before putting this post together. Reading this feels like being stuck in a whirlwind, a beautiful, chaotic, grounding whirlwind. There’s a wonderful rhythm between cortisol and crashing alarms, almost like the ticking down of a clock. A wonderful take on ‘dawn’!

For more curiosities, give Aleksander a follow here on their brand new Substack.

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5.

And to conclude, I had to share this piece from

Teri Adams

, which I re-read again and again. If you’d like an ache in your heart, do the same:

‘Dawn is finally perceptible through the heavy curtains. I can sleep. Ever since Jesse died, I don't like to sleep alone in the dark.’

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The Next Three-Minute Writing Challenge

The next challenge will go live on Wednesday 14th February. Until then, I will leave you with a quote from a writer who was known for being awful to her neighbours. Luckily, she was generous with her advice:

“One of the nicest things about being a writer is that nothing ever gets wasted. A writer who is serious and economical can store away small fragments of ideas and events and conversations, and even facial expressions and mannerisms, and use them all someday. I believe that a story can be made out of any such small combination of circumstances, set up to best advantage and decorated with some use of the imagination.”

– Shirley Jackson, Let Me Tell You

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If you’d like to read more from me, you can find my writing by picking up my novels, either from any decent bookshop or through your local library (never feel bad about this - I actually make more money from a library loan than a Kindle purchase). The Lonely Fajita (2021), The Sister Surprise (2022), or The Wedding Crasher (2023). My books have sold nearly 20,000 copies and I am so grateful that people like my dark lil’ sense of humour and fish-out-of-water heroines.

Reviews of my work:

'‘I relished this witty, tender story of loneliness, growth and friendship. Mann has a fabulous knack of finding the funny in life’s small detail’ - Pernille Hughes

‘Heartwarming, charming and witty’ - Sophie Cousens #1 bestselling author of This Time Next Year

‘The perfect blend of warm and witty you can't help but smile (and laugh) throughout’ - Helly Acton, author of The Shelf

‘Had me laughing all the way through, and I got weepy at the end’  - Sara Nisha Adams, author of The Reading List

‘I laughed the whole way through and cried at the end. The perfect smart, escapist read’  - Freya Sampson, author of The Last Chance Library

‘As comforting as putting on your cosiest sweater and fuzzy socks. I loved every moment of it’ - Jesse Sutanto, author of Dial A For Aunties

‘Yet another hilarious and touching book from Abigail Mann, with a cast of great and terrible characters and a setting full of Succession-esque glamour and drama’ - Lex Croucher, author of Gwen and Art are Not in Love

‘Abigail Mann is at her absolute best . . . she skillfully uses comedy alongside other more serious topics’ - Holly McCulloch, author of The Mix Up