Top shelf challenge entries in a library of: Paradox
Taking the abstract and wrangling it into words. Join me to read the highlights from last week's three-minute writing challenge.
As the year comes to a close, I feel like I’m in a paradox of my own. I have a desperate urge to speed-up on projects, to edit a few extra words, to write a few new posts, to open a few new documents, and yet… my head, and more importantly, my tired little spaghetti arms, are telling me to slow down. A paradox.
Last week, I threw you all paradox as a theme.
It’s an abstract one, I’ll give you that, but that’s what I like about it. A paradox can be whether to bother roasting a salmon for dinner or choose to smear three-day-old hummus onto a bit of toast. A paradox can be whether to ring the friend you’ve been ghosting for months or allow the friendship to sink. A paradox can be whether to swerve for a squirrel on the road if it means running into a ditch. They are the biggest of decisions and the smallest of ones.
*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.
In this challenge, we had emotional contradictions; fierce love combined with fierce guilt, forks in the road, dreams vs reality, and everything in between. I’ve loved reading your entries, which have been vastly different and full of raw, spilled ink.
With that said, next year I will be adding an extra level to each challenge, which writers can take up if they want to push their craft a little more. There will be no obligation to do so, but if you’ve felt like you want to write more after the three minute timer, it might be a sign that there’s more you want to say.
The next challenge will be announced on Wednesday 10th January.
I am so pleased that I decided to start up this challenge. It has given me a huge amount of joy to see my feed flood with writing, from fiction to poetry, to philosophical musings. Doing these challenges bi-weekly was a bit of an experiment, but between caring for a very lovely one-year-old, finishing my fourth novel, and publishing other Substack posts, it hasn’t left much space!
Therefore, from January, the writing challenge will shift to monthly. I’ll make sure to shout loudly about it each time it is launched, but if you don’t want to miss it, make sure you subscribe.
Okay, so onto the entries that fill the top shelf! You’ll be pleased to hear that my incredibly boring and tedious paradox of ‘what can I feed the baby that she will eat and not karate chop onto the floor?’ didn’t make the cut.
I chose these entries for their breadth of experience, sincerity, and unique perspectives. 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 -
'I got a theory 'bout life, you see.'
I groaned at the grizzled man slurping his whisky beside me. The neon-red sign hanging above the bar started glitching. It was that time of the night when everyone became a Bud Lite philosopher.
'Everyone wants something in life, see, but life, it knows it. Life will withhold it from you until you give up, accept you don't want it no more. Then, just when you've truly accepted that the very thing you want in life isn't coming to you, and you move on, life will give it to you.' he guffawed before the chuckle turned into a cough. Spittle flew into the sleeves of his faded flannel shirt.
'Oh Ray, stop it, you're bringing the vibe down.' Kerry winked at me and put down the glass she'd been drying behind the bar.
'What do you believe in then, K? And get me another whisky while you tell me - and don't try givin' me none of that fancy stuff.' Ray slumped over the table, glassy eyes fixated on Kerry.
'I believe in the Hallmark Channel Movie philosophy. If you work really hard and face a bunch of debilitating hardships, life will eventually reward you with someone that holds the key to all your problems in the most unconventional way possible.' Kerry's faraway expression creased into laughter.
Ray guffawed, his fist banging on the table.
I took a drink to hide my snort, but my stomach clenched. His distant face, a mixture of guilt and defiance, seeped through the fug in my head. No, if there was one lesson this past year had taught me, its that life doesn't reward pain. Especially if you're good.
Ray's slurred speech brought me back to reality. 'How's that workin' out for you, K?'
Kerry slammed his drink down. 'Well I'm in a roadside dive bar on a Friday night talking to you Ray, that's how it's fuckin' workin' out.'
I chose because this is the first time that I’ve seen an entry that features dialogue, and boy oh boy, does this dialogue tell a bigger story than the one we hear. I have a soft spot for quippy dialogue, especially the kind that tells the reader who the person thinks they are vs who they actually are. Here, we see that in a dive bar, somewhere I can imagine tumbleweed and rusted gas stations. Kirsten, thanks for transporting me for a minute or so!
My favourite line: It was that time of the night when everyone became a Bud Lite philosopher.
Here’s Kirsten’s original note, so please throw love in it’s direction.
Kirsten is a Sheffield based writer and editor who can often be seen up a mountain or lacing up her walking boots. She also has an unbelievably cute new puppy, who no doubt will be accompanying her on adventures (said puppy can be seen here).
The Top Shelf
Imagine these entries have formed a truly excellent window display, in front of the celebrity memoirs and record books that so often line the shelves this side of Christmas.
There’s a real diversity to the entries again, which is such a treat. Give them a read, give the writers some love, and use this as a great excuse to go get a cup of tea and linger in the moment. Trust me, you’ll want to.
1.
‘6PM. The dough is over-sticky.
The clothes droop on the drying rack, still damp.
A sunset bruises the sky. Late evening.
…
These days my heart hammers like a faulty machine.
I lie awake at night, searching. Lifted out
of sleep by nameless, gasping things.
…
And yet the bread springs and rises.
The clothes dry. The heart softens into a dream.
And like a sieve, the cold air catches a little light.
…
I know this now; with or without me,
life goes on. In the quiet hours of the morning
sleep arrives, in spite of me.
…..’
There is a beautiful, metronomic quality to this poem that carried me from beginning to end. From the smallest detail, like the damp clothes, to that middle-of-the-night search for meaning. When it comes down to it, this is what keeps us going. Bread and sun rising. Beautiful, Anagha!
For more like this, head to Anagha’s Substack:
2.
‘Tears sting the backs of my eyes and a choking sensation of anger grips my throat.
A surge of heat rises up my torso in defensiveness as I hear the words spat out from her mouth.
‘I don’t like you. You’re stupid,’
Spoken by my four year old with seemingly malicious intent after she kicks back on a boundary being held.
The irritation of the irrationality pours over my shoulders as they tense and create a cage around my heart.
I see she is experiencing a surge of emotions coursing through her that she cannot hold herself.
But I’m not sure I can hold it either.
And yet they sting those words. Even though I know they aren’t personal… they feel personal.
Transporting me swiftly back to moments in my life where harsh words have left me feeling rejected and misunderstood.
My inner teenager fearing the abandonment from her ‘friends’.
My body wants to run but my heart knows that love and compassion is the only answer here.
To feel it all. The paradox of it.
To disintegrate the sensations that rise in my body and simply hold her little tender heart.
It’s the hardest, and most beautiful healing.
The Mother in me. Mothering me.
Being a vessel to hold it all. The love, the fear, the rage the joy.
A mass of contradictions.’
Oh, this is so relatable, as I’m sure it will be to anyone who has cared for a small person. That line: ‘The Mother in me. Mothering me’ - just perfect. That sense of putting emotions to one side to hold the tenderness of another is so sharp and yet rounded off with deep rooted love that trickles out of every line in this piece. Lauren, I loved it.
For more reading material that will light a series of sparks in your chest, I’m going to shove you in the direction of The Mother Well:
3.
“I love you,” she said simply. Like she had said it a million times before. Maybe she had, but never to me. She’d never whispered it to me like it was a secret that she had been holding in forever and it had to escape somehow.
I wanted to say it back. The words were there on the tip of my tongue, I love you too. But what I actually did was laugh. The kind of laugh that you shouldn’t laugh but that only makes you laugh harder. I saw a flicker of sadness flash in her eyes before she looked down at herself and remembered what I was looking at as she declared her love for me for the first time.
“It’s the flamingo costume isn’t?”
Yes, it was definitely that.
Love, in a different form here. I love the tickle of humour that disarms you at the end of this piece. Because that’s what love is, isn’t it? The silliness of humans, and their wonderful complexity. I want to hear the rest of their story, Sophie!
More from Sophie here:
4.
‘She is all straight lines and right angles running across a piece of paper she's already scribbled on. Which aptly describes the yearning to be in one place and every place. All at once.
The piece of paper is a boat. Is a cage.
She'll leave before she ever has the chance of
being left.’
Corrrrr, Kim! There is paradox running through every word of this piece, and with that, a wonderful sense of contradiction. The voice in this piece refuses to be pinned down, and I love it for that.
For more poetry-infused wisdom, Kim’s Substack can be found here:
The Next Three-Minute Writing Challenge
The next challenge will go live on Wednesday 10th January. Until then, I will leave you with a quote from a writer who we all need to be listen to at one point or another,
:“Creativity is a path for the brave, yes, but it is not a path for the fearless, and it’s important to recognize the distinction. Bravery means doing something scary. Fearlessness means not even understanding what the word scary means.”
– Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear
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
Why it's important to know who loves (and hates) your fiction
I quite often start these posts by trying to figure out how my methods are similar or different to other authors. I think this comes from a sense of curiosity more than harsh comparison. When I wrote my first novel, I didn’t know which genre I was writing in, which is a common issue from what I’ve heard. To be honest,
Thank you so much for featuring me among so much great interpretations of your prompt! I had so much fun with those three minute creating that piece. I did actually use two characters whose story is kind of the back burner right now because I can't figure out all the pieces and I'm working on something else so one day there will be more (although I can't guarantee the flamingo costume stays the same!)
Thank you so much. I feel honored to be featured amongst so many wonderful pieces. Can't wait for the next prompt!