Sunday Writers’ Club Blog
Stories and more from Sunday Writers’ Club members
Picking-Up A Foreign Language by Chloë McGrane
I grew up with four languages in my household: English, Irish, German and Sarcasm. If you are familiar with the language family tree, Sarcasm is an unrecognized branch of the Anglo-Frisian variety. Some may even argue that it is a dialect more than a language. However, I have found it to be specific to the English-speaking contingents.
Feast of Orthodoxy by Doxa Papachartofyli
“Doxa! Come down, everyone’s already here!” The young girl sighed and sadly eyed the book on her lap. It would have to wait for the next couple of excruciating hours to be over.
Today was her name day, and those were a big deal in Greece. The Feast of Orthodoxy.
Heart by Hebatollah Ashraf
“So I rolled the dice and it told me to follow my heart. But the dice isn’t supposed to tell us what to do, is it?”
“This is the game, Mum. You agreed to play with me!”
What Makes You More Than You? by Natasa Pap
Every person on this planet has something special about them. A certain skill or a talent that is a very important part of everyone’s personality. People find themselves in the world of music, science, art, sport, academics, spiritualism, etc.
I made my very first drawing when I was three years old. It was nothing special, but I loved it with all my heart.
The Echo by Connie Phlipot
AH—Aah—aaah—aaaah… The buildings on each side of the street threw the sound back and forth, softer, gentler each time, a ball seeping air, finally deflating with a soundless thud. There was no one else in sight. Anneli ran down the street in the shadows of the buildings. Her feet clapped against the pavement. The walls clapped back. She put her hands over her ears. A rat dashed into the light of a street lamp. She screamed. The walls resounded.
Like Fine Wine by Doxa Papachartofyli
It’s well after midnight, so this means she’s out and I’m up.
I’m Anxiety, and I will be your host for tonight. Well, or at least until I decide to wake her up and have her vaguely worry about something.
The Perfect Pint by Brigid Whoriskey
There are 170 million pints of Guinness poured on St Patrick’s day in pubs and taverns all over the world. The perfect ones will take 119.5 seconds to pull. Now, anyone who’s ever imbibed in black magic – or the black stuff or a pint of plain or whatever you choose to call Irish champagne – will know that not every bartender pours the perfect pint.
The Shark by Julia Parger
“I swim with the big fish now”, Robert thought to himself as he glanced out the window of the 22nd floor. He observed illuminated buildings, the flickering lights of cars passing by and the silhouettes of people wandering around. Robert had just come back to his hotel suite from a meeting with his bosses. The big bosses. The international league of excellence.
Leyla’s choice by Sandra Voelker
The persistent knocking on the door sent sound waves through the apartment.
“Open up! We know you are in there!”
Bang, bang, bang, it went on.
“Open up! Please! We will have to break the door down.”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Louder again.
My First Valentine’s Day Card by Doxa Papachartofyli
Mama’s wishes were for her to see me settled in a good job and with a good girl. Well, if everything goes according to plan, the second part of her wishes will come into fruition just like the first part already has. Being a warden in a female maximum security prison might not be exactly small talk material, but it pays surprisingly well and offers dental.
Fight, Freeze or Flight by Michaela Fricek
“Is this your first time flying to South Africa?”
Furkan heard the chubby middle-aged woman with light brown curls who sat next to him asking. “What a curious question?” he pondered, while he heard himself answering: “Yes, there is a specialist in Cape Town who is well-known for treating my disease. I also want to take some time to see the country. What about you?”
Recipe Makes About Forty by Doxa Papachartofyli
At seven in the morning, it was unfathomably, stiflingly hot, and in Sofia’s aunt’s kitchen, with the oven already hard at work, even more so. Sofia stepped in, and went straight to the sink, hands supporting herself while she leaned forward and took in the view.
Longing by Janice Cutting
There were strict unwritten rules on the underground. There had to be. There was no other way to be OK with someone’s arm pit squashed up against your nose.
No eye contact.
No speaking.
No acknowledgement in any way of your fellow human beings.
Can Art Ever Be Pure? by Caroline Stevenson
The purest kind of art tends to get classed as “development” – and that is the product of whatever a toddler decides to create when left unsupervised with a bunch of crayons. In absence of verbal explanation, any shapes vaguely resembling humans amongst a kaleidoscope of scribbles, are assumed to be its parents, when really the child could already be harbouring ambitions to draft a successful comic series filled with superheroes. If we are gracious enough to credit the child’s creative output as art, then what makes it pure?
Full Empty Black Space by Connie Phlipot
The emptiness swelled, engulfed and swallowed her into its nothingness. Her feet frozen into the the equally black ground, the chilled air sucked the moisture and warmth from her skin. She lost her sense of smell, her mouth was dry, she couldn’t taste her own saliva. There was no sound. Her own heart was inaudible.
A Fresh Perspective by Phil Cain
It seemed wrong to intrude on what was clearly a painful and private moment when I first passed. But she was still there as I was about to leave the gallery twenty minutes later, alone, rooted to the spot, visibly upset.
It seemed wrong not to at least ask if she was okay.
Forgotten Stone Hero by Marianne Thatcher
Statues with benign expressions hover above the front buildings watching the daily goings on of people and vehicles, while protective large wrought iron gates suggest the possibility of needing to close them at some time.
Secret Santa Story Share Part 3 by Janice Cutting and Mary Anglberger
This is our third and final Secret Santa Story Share posting – two creative writing pieces inspired by the same prompt. Thank you again to all the SWCers who wrote seasonal stories and shared them with one another.
Secret Santa Story Share Part 2 by Jane Dudeney and Jasmine Fassl
This years’ Secret Santa Story Share was our best yet, with more of our writers getting involved than we’ve ever had before. Thank you to all the SWCers who wrote seasonal stories and shared them with one another. But of course we also wanted to share some of the pieces with everyone else! Here is part two of our Secret Santa Story Share blog – two pieces inspired by the same prompt.
Secret Santa Story Share Part 1 by Connie Phlipot and Chloë McGrane
This years’ Secret Santa Story Share was our best yet, with more of our writers getting involved than we’ve ever had before. Thank you to all the SWCers who wrote seasonal stories and shared them with one another. But of course we also wanted to share some of the pieces with everyone else! Here are the first two pieces inspired by the same prompt.
‘Kalady’ by Connie Phlipot
Two goats stood up in the middle of the wagon, rocking it. Vera crashed into the creature next to her, a cross between Father Christmas and the devil grinned wickedly in her face. Vera didn’t know who he represented. There was a full panoply of characters for this season, her grandmother had explained it all to her a long time ago, but she didn’t remember much of it.
What is a Ghost? by Emma Downey
The first ghost I was aware of was the Banshee. I’m sure you’ve heard of her, the weeping, wailing female harbinger of death native to Ireland and Scotland. When her cry is heard you know that you or someone belonging to you’s time is up. When I was at school we used to scare each other with stories of the Banshee. We pictured the terrifying red eyed woman dressed a white shroud, sitting by the road combing her long hair. We believed that finding a comb on the path meant that the Banshee was around and that could mean bad things for us. Once a group of us argued over which of us had first spotted the comb and was therefore ‘in for it’.
Autumn has Started by Dominik Jemec
Alex was sitting on the bus on his way home after a long day at the office. There was an army of kids that took over most seats and standing spaces on the bus. He could have given the kid staring at him his seat, but he just stared back at him, making faces. It had been a long day at work, chock-full of meetings accompanied by deafening noise from construction work. He couldn’t catch a moment of work at work.
My Cousin Roger by Connie Phlipot
I hadn’t seen Cousin Roger for a few years. He was not, for a variety of reasons, a favourite of the family. I was the only one as far as I knew who kept in touch with Roger, albeit sporadically, usually meeting when we ended up in the same city. My siblings considered Roger a first cousin twice removed. Not in accordance with the technical definition of the term which would have meant he was two generations ahead of us, our grandparents’ cousin.
Joy by Lea Gremm
I wake up in my old childhood bedroom like I have done for the past six months. The walls are still draped in the same ugly yellow wallpaper that I chose as a seven-year-old and they are closing in on me as soon as I open my eyes. I didn’t choose to be here. Nothing has ever felt more like admitting defeat to me than moving back into my parents’ house–the one place that I couldn’t wait to escape from not even ten years earlier.
We Are The 4A by Jasmine Fassl
‘Why does this milk jug have spots?’
There was silence in the class.
‘I clearly explained that I wanted plain pottery pieces,’ Mrs Witherington hissed.
The children looked to the floor. Nobody spoke. There was nothing to say. The jug on the very left of the teacher’s desk at the front clearly had spots. They sparkled in all sorts of colours on a brilliant white background. It stood out against the other 24 uniformly single-coloured jugs around it.
Water to Water by Caroline Stevenson
My first Viennese swim didn’t just mark the start of a new chapter in my life, but also the start of a friendship. I never hung out with Cousin Jane as a child, owing to the fact that she was already 26 when I was born and, what’s more, she worked overseas. In Austria, so I’d heard. I’d met her on a handful of occasions; the big family ones like a 90th birthday party or a funeral which would lure her over to the UK.
The Dragon Inhales by Greta Lane
Trigger warning – pregnancy loss
Two walls of the pastel obstetrician’s office were papered with babies. Fat babies, cute babies, old-man looking babies. Bald babies festooned with those ridiculous baby bows; suit-wearing babies propped up on blankets, the drool miraculously photoshopped out. Newborns impossibly wrapped in linen: little sleeping acorns posed under the gaze of their adoring parents.
Time Is Not There To Be Saved by Jane Dudeney
Just because Sunday Writers’ Club is on summer break, doesn’t mean our members have rested their pens. Some, like Jane Dudeney, have kept their creativity flowing no matter the weather. So, we’re pleased to present her latest short story here for your summer reading pleasure. We hope you enjoy reading “Time is Not There to Be Saved” by Jane Dudeney.
SWC Stories Inspired by the Kiki Kogelnik Exhibition in Vienna
Sunday Writers’ Club organises a creative writing session on almost every Sunday of the year, bringing people from all over the world together. We write and share our newly created works with one another.
On Sunday 18th June 2023 we were invited by the Bank Austria Kunstforum to create a special writing session inspired by the exhibition ‘Now Is The Time’ by Austrian-born, New York-based artist Kiki Kogelnik.
Here are some of the stories and poems which were created that morning in response to the exhibition.
The Dragon Inhales by Natasa Pap
Miss Charlotte Veil never liked Mr. Alexander Law, her father’s friend from Oxford.
The man had arrived this morning and would be staying with them for two days, unfortunately, helping her father with some legal business.
At first Charlotte thought it was just her imagination, but now she was sure that Mr. Law wanted something from her. He had been looking at her in a strange way, a way no 46-year-old man should be looking at an 18-year-old girl.
The Dragon Inhales by Jan Cutting
‘I have no words,’ she said.
I stayed silent. She always had words. Too many in my opinion.
I paced the hall in a great sigh. The kind of sigh that has its own tides. Collected and deposited by the moon of sadness.
She didn’t understand.
I am not sure she will ever understand.
Stories from Burg Rappottenstein Part 2
When they built Burg Rappottenstein back in the twelfth century, its massive walls were designed to keep invaders out. And having never been conquered, they’ve served their purpose well. Fortunately for the Sunday Writers’ Club, all the archers on the ramparts and guards on the gates had long since become ghosts when we arrived for our writing annual retreat in April 2023. There was nothing to keep us from four days of indulging in what we love best: writing!
So, we’re very excited to present here more stories from Burg Rappottenstein. We hope you enjoy reading the following contributions:
Graffiti from a Bygone Age by Caroline Stevenson
Coming Home to Burg Rappottenstein by Sandra Völker
Braving the Dungeon by Mary Anglberger
Stories from Burg Rappottenstein Part 1
For the 2nd year running, Sunday Writers’ Club returned to Burg Rappottenstein in Lower Austria for our 2023 writers’ retreat. SWC members escaped to the imposing twelfth century fortress for four inspiring days of writing, sharing, and some exploration of the forest all around.
We’re excited to share here a small selection of members’ creative writing from the retreat, including-
Absence by Lea Gremm
Latisha is My Name by Connie Phlipot
All Together Now by Brigid Whoriskey
We hope you enjoy reading these stories. And keep an eye out for Stories from Burg Rappotenstein Part 2 coming up next week and containing more fantastic creative writing from members at the retreat.
Seasons by Eleanor Updegraff
Do you remember the first time? I do. It was a house party at my place, the first the boys and I ever held. I hung out in the kitchen with the Irish lads – Jon had endless friends and they were funny and loud – and then at some point, in the press of bodies in that narrow space, I turned my head and there was you.
Got You! by Brigid Whoriskey
I knock gently before entering the empty board room, 30 minutes early, and select my usual seat at the back corner of the table, affording me greatest visibility of the soon to be filled chairs. I button my grey merino wool cardigan, over a white round neck top. My hands slide over my navy knee length skirt, tucking it into place as I take my seat. My hair is tidily pulled back, as always.
Easter Week is Also Passover Week by Tamara Saltman
Sunday. Sing at church All Glory Laud and Honor. Palm fronds everywhere. Stop by butcher for seder brisket.
Monday. Work. Pick up car from repair shop. Yoga class. Practice German, forget to learn Chad Gad Ya off YouTube.
Tuesday. Work. Choir Director wants to start planning summer season, avoid conflict with Session
The Last Soldier by Natasa Pap
The year was 1945. It was mid october, and the chill in the air was a clear sign that autumn had arrived. The wind was howling this night, making the window frame shake on occasion. It had been three weeks since Jonathan left the army and returned to the village where he grew up. His wife Louisa welcomed him with open arms and a smile filled with warm tears of joy. His daughter Emma didn’t even recognize him at first, probably because of his beard.
Odd One Out by Jane Dudeney
I observe them all in there, but they don’t notice me. It’s curious, after being friends all these years, how things turn out. I certainly didn’t see this coming, although now I’ve got a moment to myself to look back, there were, perhaps, some signs I could have spotted.
Quadrivium by Eithne Bradley
The indoor waterfall roared. The sound bounced back and multiplied off the glass dome above, and the shuttered shops, and the marble floor, caging it like a wild animal. Perhaps the waterfall dreamt of a savage drop over jungle falls. Perhaps it dreamt of surging in a cathedral of water that deafened tiny humans at its foot. Perhaps it wanted to form a mist that blinded and disoriented. Here it was desalinated, neutered, performing for the mild distraction of travellers.
“So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight.” by Greta Lane
“So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight.” That line from The Great Gatsby would come to me sometimes, back in Mosul in 2007; that one sweltering summer when death was in the air and covering the ground like the dust that would coat our cheeks and gum up the action in our rifles. It was the summer when the surge of American soldiers deployed to Baghdad sent the insurgents up to our area, like squeezing a jelly donut.
Quadrivium by Connie Phlipot
“The taxes are the most complicated thing,” that was Janina’s opening to her standard story of her household situation. She’d pause a second to look at the puzzled faces of her interlocutors before resuming her story. “Yes, you see tax assessment is based on a determination of where economic activity takes place.” Another pause to let listeners ponder that consideration. “Two of the bedrooms are in Arizona. Not much economic activity there, you’d think.” That always got a laugh. “But, in fact, during lockdown and snow storms, I did a lot of my work right there, sitting on the bed.”
Luna by Jane Dudeney
It was the last thing she’d given me, and I wasn’t ready to let it go. We didn’t know at the time, that it would be the last thing she’d ever give me. We thought there would be many more years of impromptu gifts, but life doesn’t always turn out that way.
A Conversation between the Heart and the Brain by Natasa Pap
Brain: “Why are you always so emotional?”
Heart: “What are you always so cold and calculated?”
Brain: “What do you mean? It’s my job to think, process data and find solutions for various problems. I can’t do that if my mind is clouded by emotions?
Heart: “Is that all I am to you? Some cloud or fog that is distracting your thinking process?!”
Brain: “You see what they mean? Every little thing upsets you! This is why it’s so hard to talk to you, I can never figure you out!”
The Three Stages of Cold by Jan Cutting
Wet Cold Day – plus 1 or 2 degrees – Scotland.
Shoulders hunched
Sky and street meet in mist
Rain creeps into every thread and fibre of fabric
Drains your soul
Eyes squint
Skin liquifies
Dampness drags you home
Click on the title or featured image to read on!
The Caravan of Broken Dreams by Sandra Völker
Ladies and Gentlemen!
I am the operator of the Caravan of Broken Dreams and tonight I offer you to discard all your broken dreams and unfulfilled aspirations. Why weigh yourself down with the frustration and disappointments of what you have not achieved? Why be shaped by your perceived failures and unspoken desires? Why fret about past defeats and unattainable goals. I offer you a clean slate from which to grow new and fresh dreams that are not diminished by the weight of past experiences.
Click on the title or featured imaged to read on!
31 Words to Describe January
One of the fascinating aspects of our Sunday Writing Sessions is when more than one writer chooses the same prompt from the current week’s Menu. Seeing creative people tackle the prompt in their own unique way proves just how diverse in thought and approach our SWCers can be! This exact thing happened during the January 29th session with the prompt:
“Use 31 words to describe January.”
Click on the title or featured image to read contributions from Sunday Writers’ Club members Tamara Raidt, Keith Gray, Jasmine Fassl, and Dagmar Bayer.
The Piano Tuner by Caroline Stevenson
I don’t repair doorbells as part of my day job, but my customer’s doorbell that morning could certainly have done with a little work. It was pleasingly old school, the descending two-note refrain which typically heralded a tannoy announcement made at an airport. Ding dooong. The second note, however, had crept up to be higher it ought to have been, and was sounding discordant as a result.
I am the Chicken on the Chopping Block by Sandra Völker
We’re excited to present here the lastest creative writing by Sunday Writers’ Club member Sandra Völker. Her poem is inspired by the Helmut Newton photograph “Roast Chicken and Bulgari Jewels”, which was recently on display at the Helmut Newton Legacy Exhibition at the Bank Austria Kunstforum in Vienna. Sandra was one of the talented SWC members who attended the exhibition for an extra-special creative writing session.
Click on the blog title or image of Sandra at the exhibition to read “I am the Chicken on the Chopping Block”.
The French-Belgian Border Crossing by Connie Phlipot
The Sunday Writers’ Club kicked off the 2023 new year with a special, one-off event with the Bank Austria Kunstforum in Vienna. Writers joined us for a unique creative writing experience inspired by the Helmut Newton Legacy exhibition. The specially created creative writing prompts menu (written by published author Keith Gray) focused on photographs of the iconic photographer.
We’re delighted to present here The French Belgian Border Crossing by Connie Phlipot—just one of the inspiring stories that came out of the event. We hope to post more stories here from the event very soon.
Caribbean Christmas by Emma Downey
We’re pleased to launch into the 2023 new year with a delightful Christmas story by Sunday Writers’ Club member Emma Downey. If you’ve ever longed to escape all the stress of Christmas, you’ll enjoy this story as much as we have.
The Masks We Wear by Georgia Holmer
“I can’t breathe.”
Her muffled voice came through the small and inadequate hole between the pink lips.
“Can you see?”
“Barely.”
It was a pliable plastic mask, shaped to resemble a famous female politician, more notorious than revered. She’d insisted on ordering it online as part of her costume. She wanted to make a statement, she said.
Click on the post title or image to read on!
Writer Portrait: Jan Cutting
Our ‘writer portraits’ series aims to invite people in front of the curtain and to showcase their work. This week, Janice Cutting has agreed to answer a few questions about her writing – giving a sneak peak of her new WIP (Work In Progress) – which sounds brilliant.
Click on the post title or image to read on!
The Blank Page and Writers’ Block by Jen Cornick
Everyday my cursor blinks at the top of a blank page. And lately, I have no idea what to do with it. If it were a blinking red light at an intersection, I would know what to do. Stop and wait for my turn. If it were the light on my internet router, I would reset it. If the light was blinking in my smoke detector, I would replace the battery. But I have no idea what to do with that infernal blinking cursor on my screen.
Click on the post title or image to read on!
10 Great Creative Writing Prompts to Get You Started by Paul Malone
If you enjoy writing and are looking for inspiration, we’ve got 10 great writing prompts to get you started. Whether you’d like to write a poem, a short story, or even a novel, you can use any of the prompts below as a doorway to your imagination.
Click the post title or image to read on!
You Are Very Beautiful by Keith Gray
Sophie didn’t let me kiss her goodbye so I didn’t let her to follow me into the train station. I pushed my earbuds deep into my ears so my phone could inject random miserable songs directly into my brain.
Click on the post title or image to read on!
The Residual Half by Brigid Whoriskey
It turns out you can teach an old dog new tricks. It’s a stupid saying really, no doubt originally coined by someone who felt comfortably distant from the grey brigade and, I would venture to guess, who lacked canine companionship.
Click on the post title or image to read on!
Writer Portrait: Tina Rae Quinn
We want to showcase and shout about the people and personalities behind the wonderful writing which you can read on our blog every week. This week, Tina Rae Quinn has agreed to answer questions about her art and her writing, the books she reads and the best writing advice she’s ever been given, which we are delighted to share.
Click on the post title or image to read on!
Sonder by Connie Phlipot
Lila stretched her arms over head, relishing the strength and agility awakening in her limbs. She bounded out of bed, catching herself before she slid on the rainbow colored braid rug by her bed. Another brilliant day ahead of her. She had the best job in the department, tickets to the sold-out rock concert, maybe dinner at the newly opened gastropub in the trendy part of town.
Click on the blog title or image to read on!
Pallbearers by Paul Malone
Have you ever put your heart into a story, only to discover it was somehow missing the magic spark to truly come to life? If so, you’ll be comforted to know that you’re not alone: Paul Malone shares his feelings about this sometimes disheartening experience in his poem titled Pallbearers.
Click on the blog title or image to read on!
Reading for your Writing Work by Jen Cornick
I am a writer. Therefore, my job is to write. To sit at my computer all day long. To put pen to paper until my wrist is cramped and my fingers feel like they will never again lie flat. That is my job; whether it is a blog post, an essay for a museum catalogue, a magazine article, or a short story I am sure will never see publication. But there are days, weeks even, where sitting down to a blank page makes my stomach go cold and my bones churn in my skin.
Books Inspire Books (and their authors) by Keith Gray
Books make writers. Here’s the proof: ‘The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole Aged 13¾’ by Sue Townsend.
Perhaps, if I’d kept a diary when I was 13, it would have read something like this…
19th February 1985
13 today! Richard’s given me a book and reckons I’ll enjoy it. I’m not impressed.
The Favour by Nathalie Zani
Mia shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she watched her grandmother eat her noodles with a pair of knitting needles. Mia’s grandmother Elena had always been a little bit…well…eccentric.
“Mia, my love, eat your food before it gets cold. And stop being so anxious. No one but you cares what I’m using to eat.”
Mia wasn’t quite sure that was true.
Looking back on a short fiction workshop by Jasmine Fassl
We love workshops at Sunday Writers’ Club. We only organise two or three every year – not very many – so when they do come around, they feel pretty special.
Our autumn 2022 workshop was led by author and professor of creative writing Jenn Ashworth. Jenn was a guest for our Meet the Professionals programme back in April, and we enjoyed her thoughts and comments so much that we invited her back. And we are mighty glad we did!
What did you give away when you last moved? by Mihaela Tsoneva
I’ve always dreamt of living abroad. My country as a whole has a strange case of low self-esteem, and people put life in other countries on a pedestal. So naturally, I’ve always dreamt of living abroad, in another bigger, better country. My excitement before coming to Austria was unmatched. I counted the days and couldn’t wait to pack my bags and leave my cold apartment with the annoying landlord.
Sunset by Paul Malone
Creative writing prompts can be used in so many ways. A prompt might be the inspiration behind a story, a poem, a song. I recently used a Sunday Writers’ Club prompt to explore my middle-grade novel in progress. By the end of the creative writing session I’d discovered more about a couple of the characters and their storyworld. “Sunset” is posted below, and I’ve provided a few of my writing insights at the end of the story.
Hiraeth by Connie Phlipot
Anneli fidgeted on the slippery faux leather seat. The man next to her frowned when she muttered an insincere “sorry” for bumping his knee. The train slowed —the route was single-tracked here, it had been that way forever — shuffling through the spindly-treed forest. She opened her book, a thick novel by a distinguished author, a Nobel Prize winner in fact, that she had been saving for this long journey.
Making Time to Write by Jen Cornick
September is here! Which means lives are busy. As school starts and workplaces come back from vacation slow-downs, writers struggle increasingly to find the time to sit down and write. Busy lives mean busy days filled with school pick-ups, grocery lists, and the dreaded weeknight dinner question. And then when it is all over, when the work is done and the house is finally quiet, exhaustion settles in. Making a streaming service and the sofa the most amazing plan in the world.
Why Write? by Keith Gray
We’re writers because we write. That’s the only qualification you need to be a writer: writing. Not all of us will be published. But that should never be the one and only end goal for a writer.
For better or worse we all crave legitimacy in whatever we endeavour to do. We feel the need for validation and hunger after the sound of applause. And as a writer there’s an unfortunate idea that we don’t deserve any of it until we are published. Publication is seen as proof of ability and identification of talent – the be-all and the end-all of the writing process. This way of thinking can unfortunately lead to a slippery, spiralling hole of inevitable disappointment. Even if we don’t have Penguin or Beltz & Gelberg knocking down our doors, creative writing has so much joy and pleasure to offer us, the writers.
Let’s have a think about the reasons why we write.
Fractal Shade by Connie Phlipot
Amoeba-shaped patterns slipped and fluttered across the sand, imperfect reflections of the trees above the cliffs. I skipped from one blotchy shadow to another, not looking back at the people whose company I had left. It had been a good reunion, trading the usual news of jobs, families, trips. I laughed at the reported antics of a new puppy, oohed at photos of a recently born niece, sighed at a parent’s death.
Fairy in a Jar by Jan McLeod
He was a wild child always running around making mischief, climbing things that shouldn’t be climbed, picking up things that had no right to be picked up.
He once brought home a mouse that had a very definite claw mark across its back. I had to pretend to nurse it back to life, while actually watching it take its last breath. Luckily, he was at school when the poor thing, despite all the cheese and milk I could feed it, popped his final little clogs.
Meet You at Your Vantage Point by Dagmar Bayer
The room as seen from your eyes when you leave it
A hare as seen from Albrecht Duerer
Albrecht Duerer as seen from a hare
And Hans Hoffmann
Painting the same hare
Or a hare alike
Hans Hoffmann as seen from Albrecht Duerer
The Forgotten Phone by Caroline Stevenson
I am a free spirit, on condition that I always have my Handy, my mobile, my cell phone ̶ or however you prefer to call it ̶ within reach.
I can let my hair down and be spontaneous, provided I can plan my spontaneity to the degree which assures that my spontaneousness is going to result in something rewarding, like checking out a beautiful part of the Austrian landscape I’ve never seen before, instead of whiling away a Sunday abandoned at a remote train station with no lunch because I never thought to check on rail replacement works
Retreat Redux by Jennifer Cornick
Two hours away from Vienna a lonely castle stands on a granite hill top surrounded by quiet forests. The floors creak under foot, the wind howls outside the windows, and at night the cold creeps up from the damp dungeons. But luckily the sun was shining 90% of the time and for a few days, for 16 lucky writers, this was home.
Sunday Writers’ Club held our first ever retreat last weekend. For four days and three nights we got to experience life in Burg Rappottenstein, a fortress that has never once been conquered. We wrote stories, attended workshops, and played a card game or two. Some of us were even productive.
April 2022 Podcast: The Soup by Sarah Roos-Essl
Join us for our latest podcast where Sunday Writers’ Club member Sarah Roos-Essl reads an excerpt titled The Soup from her memoir in progress. And we chat with Sarah about moving to Austria, the joys of shopping at farmers markets, the benefits of wholesome home-cooked soup, and of course about her writing.
I Know Spring Has Arrived When… By Caroline Stevenson
I know spring has arrived when my furriest coat is banished to the wardrobe. It can go find the winterland of Narnia and have adventures without me for all I care – I do not want to see it, let alone be enveloped in it, for another 9 months minimum. And even if the weather gods play an April Fool and send the temperatures plunging again, I will pack as many layers under my spring coat as necessary, just do whatever I can to convince myself that now spring has arrived, we will have an agreeable outdoor temperature and I won’t find myself shivering at a bus stop.
Ceramic Tiger, Driving Rain by Connie Phlipot
Back in the day, I mean really back, the map of Europe was divided into a few big swatches of colors. These huge pieces of land were empires, ruled by kaisers or tsars or kings — who amassed fortunes by pillaging other civilizations. They competed with each other in the ostentatiousness display of these fortunes.
March 2022 Podcast: A Neighbourly Favour by Patrizia Stiegler
On this month’s podcast we present the latest very funny short story titled “A Neighbourly Favour” by Sunday Writers’ Club member Patrizia Stiegler. Read on or listen in and find out for yourself why Lucile the hairdressing witch with a penchant for black cigarettes really is the perfect neighbour. And we chat with Patrizia about her short story, her writing, and her fascinating life as a stage manager in one of Vienna’s most prestigious theatres.
An Astonishing Cure For Loneliness by Gabrielle Clover
Sitting in a cafe
Surrounded by strangers
Solitude rises on the steam
Of my Earl Gray tea
To whisper sweet nothings in my ear
And I try not to be jealous of how those leaves
Cling to each other as they loll around
In the hot tub of the pot
Firebrand by Connie Phlipot
Paolina didn’t always feel like a peat fire was burning silently underneath her skin, waiting for the carelessly dropped match or cigarette butt to bring the flame to the surface. Sending her out into the street, to stand and shout in front of the Parliament or lead a picket line around the power plant.
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off by Brigid Whoriskey
‘Are you sure Mum?’
‘Yip’
‘Absolutely sure?’
‘Yes, I’ve written it in my diary. It was in the last newsletter. Now hurry up and get dressed. You can wear anything you like – but not the joggers with the hole please’.
Ailis goes into her room with a slightly suspicious backward glance muttering
‘I better not be the only one in casual clothes, that’s all I’m saying’.
The Cormorants’ Danube Sojourn by Connie Phlipot
Igor stretched his black mantel of wing, sending droplets of sleet shimmering into the fog hovering over the canal. The others turned their haughty beaks toward him, then resumed watching the lazy dingy ducks letting the current carry them down stream. They were the four cormorants, like heads of Vishegrad states, settling for the winter neither in the sunny south nor the frigid north, but in the damp, chilly Danube basin.
Apricity by Sarah Roos-Essl
(Then)
With few exceptions, 365 days a year, there was warm sun by noon and a bone-chilling fog whisked in by dinner time. Temperatures stayed between 13-18*C, day and night, July, December, no matter. The landscape was almost always dotted with orange poppies, the ocean always that same slate blue. I frequently asked myself, “Did that thing happen in February? Or August?” Photos didn’t help.
Christmas Story Share 2021 Part 2
With so many Sunday Writers’ Club members contributing wonderful stories to the Christmas Story Story Share, we’ve created a 2nd post here with all new stories.
The holidays are a time for sharing and Sunday Writers’ Club got into the spirit of it. Our story share this year was about the unexpected, from visitors to gifts. And our writers sent some amazing stories, through the post, to friends near and far to celebrate the season. We thought we would share a few with you as the holidays wind down, hoping you can keep some of the spirit of sharing with you as we “slide into the new year”, as the Viennese would say.
January 2022 Podcast: New Year’s Eve by Eithne Bradley
We kick off 2022 with a delightful short story titled New Year’s Eve by Sunday Writers’ Club member Eithne Bradley. And we chat with Eithne in the charming (if not slightly noisy) ambeince of Cafe Diglas im Schottenstift in Vienna. Fix yourself your favourite brew and sit back and enjoy the podcast.
How the right mindset can fuel your writing by Brigid Whorisky
Brigid Whoriskey is as an executive coach who specialises in helping business leaders take control of their future roadmap by setting clear goals for themselves. She is also one of the most popular, enthusiastic and supportive members of SWC. She will be running a ‘Growth Mindset Workshop for Writers’ in the New Year and has written this blog as an introduction and taster to how she can help you and your writing.
Christmas Story Share 2021
The holidays are a time for sharing and Sunday Writers’ Club got into the spirit of it. Our story share this year was about the unexpected, from visitors to gifts. And our writers sent some amazing stories, through the post, to friends near and far to celebrate the season. We thought we would share a few with you as the holidays wind down, hoping you can keep some of the spirit of sharing with you as we “slide into the new year”, as the Viennese would say.
How 2021 became the Year of Writing Reslilience
If anything, 2021 has shown us all what can become of those best laid plans: From one lockdown to the next, Sunday Writers’ Club has had to adapt—moving live creative writing sessions online, workshops and other club events too. Many of us have missed meeting up in a Vienna cafe on a Sunday morning to write and share our stories. Good friendships have been formed around those coffee tables. Some fine coffee and delicious breakfasts have been polished off too.
Hidden Presents by Janice Cutting
I still believed when my brother pushed me into the cupboard at the back of Mum’s bedroom with a panto laugh.
Christmas was my most favourite time of year and I loved seeing the first signs of it slowly emerging into my 6 year old world.
The first sign was the earlier arrival, each day of the dark cloak of night, laid across the trees outside my window and tucked in around the pavements and streets. The yellow street lamps turning everything into golden optimistic light.
A Christmas Mission by Caroline Stevenson
In the spirit of the festive season, we’re excited to present the latest short story by Caroline Stevenson. With a truly unique perspective and filled with good humour, A Christmas Mission was written during the final SWC Sunday creative writing session for 2021. We hope you enjoy reading Caroline’s story and feel inspired to get out and play in the snow or go shake your snow globe.
How the right mindset can fuel your writing by Brigid Whorisky
Brigid Whoriskey is as an executive coach who specialises in helping business leaders take control of their future roadmap by setting clear goals for themselves. She is also one of the most popular, enthusiastic and supportive members of SWC. She will be running a ‘Growth Mindset Workshop for Writers’ in the New Year and has written this blog as an introduction and taster to how she can help you and your writing.
November Podcast: Poetry with Tamara Raidt
Listen in to our November podcast where we chat with Sunday Writers’ Club member Tamara Raidt about her poetry and current studies at the University of Edinburgh, and Tamara shares with us two of her recent poems.
How to Start a Story by Jennifer Cornick
We’ve all been there, staring at a blank page wondering how to start the story that crept up on us in the middle of the night. The cursor blinking back at you, words refusing to appear on the screen. Or sitting in a café, staring at the cleanest page in your notebook, the pen categorically rejecting your attempts at telekinesis.
Syzygy by Connie Phlipot
Tap, tap, tap, click. I heard the footsteps leading into the park before I could see her stiletto heeled boots tightly molded over the swell of her calves. My trainers barely whispered as I followed her. I stopped and pulled my ski cap low over my brow as I passed her, then sat down on a bench to wait.
She tugged her short, pencil skirt down over her rump with one hand, then tossed her head, flinging orange-tinged blonde hair. The flounced edge of her bra peered over the low-cut blouse.
“Hello!” I stood up from the bench and reach out toward her. She shrunk back a step, then stopped.
October Podcast: The Best of Intentions by Stephen Hewitt
Listen in to our October podcast where we chat with Sunday Writers’ Club member Stephen Hewitt about his writing and experiences having moved from Canada to to Austria. And Stephen reads for us his delightful short story titled The Best of Intentions.
The 11th Hour by Patrizia Stiegler
When it comes to time, are you often cutting things too short? If so, you’re not alone: Take comfort (and enjoy a good laugh) in reading The 11th Hour by Sunday Writers’ Club member Patrizia Stiegler.
The Art of Breaking by Tamara Raidt
Every so often we’re thrilled to be able to publish a song on the Sunday Writers’ Club blog. Many thanks to Tamara Raidt and Julien for sharing here first their latest song The Art of Breaking.
Sunday Writers’ Club is now on Discord
Sunday Writers’ Club wanted to build a community of writers in Vienna. Our community of friendly local writers has grown to include writers from all over and it can be hard to stay in touch with friends across time zones. We wanted to make it a little easier to support each other from Sunday to Sunday, so we made a Discord community.
Triple Three by Janice Cutting
What better 3rd birthday present could the Sunday Writers’ Club hope for than a celebratory birthday story from one of our dearest members! Read Triple Three by Janice Cutting and you’ll feel as if your gliding freely across the ice.
September Podcast: Gärtnergasse by Connie Phlipot
In this September podcast fresh after summer break, we chat with Sunday Writers Club member Connie Phlipot about her writing, and Connie reads for us her recent story set in Vienna, titled Gärtnergasse.
Sunday Writers’ Club Autumn Programme 2021
We’re excited to announce the Sunday Writers’ Club Autumn Programme for 2021. It’s filled with inspiring writing events and activities.
You can find out more about the programme and download a PDF copy by reading on.
Midnight Train by Tamara Raidt
We’re delighted to share with you the latest song written by Tamara Raidt and sung by Tamara and Julien.
Listen and enjoy!
The Gate by Thomas C. Kim
It was a summer when I first came to Burggarten in Vienna. It was an absolutely unplanned trip. Sometimes, I hit bottom. Very rare. But it happens. That was then. I wanted to run away from my daily routine because I hated to be in it.
Splatch by Jonathan Pickering
Read the latest fantasy story by Sunday Writers’ Club member Jonathan Pickering based on the following prompt: Write a conversation between two spectators in the crowd at a football match (or other sporting event). Is their team winning? Give the reader a sense of the action on the pitch but maybe the conversation is about more than just the game…
Decent Deluxe Deli’s Code of Conduct By Caroline Stevenson
If you’ve ever experienced bad service at a restaurant, you will love reading this latest funny short story by Sunday Writers’ Club member Caroline Stevenson.
Story based on the prompt: Write an absurdist critique of some aspect of society by reversing the accepted norm.
July Podcast: Caravan of the Apocalypse by Twan Zegers
In this July podcast we chat with Sunday Writers Club member Twan Zegers about his writing, and Twan reads for us his latest story essay, Caravan of the Apocalypse
Spectators by Connie Phlipot
Enjoy reading the latest short story one of Sunday Writers’ Club’s most prolific members – Connie Phlipot.
Inspired by the prompt:
Write a conversation between two spectators in the crowd at a football match (or other sporting event). Is their team winning? Give the reader a sense of the action on the pitch but maybe the conversation is about more than just the game…
Rakki’s Field Trip by Janice Cutting
This week we’re pleased to present the latest short story by Sunday Writers’ Club member Janice Cutting. This imaginative and thought-provoking story for young readers is inspired by two SWC prompts:
– Write about what “Climate Emergency” means to you – have you experienced it already? What are your thoughts about the future?
– UFO: The Pentagon is about to release a landmark report about UFOs. Ride the current wave of public intrigue and write a story featuring a UFO.
First Kiss by Tamara Raidt
I didn’t like my first kiss:
this is the first thing I reminisce.
Strange how the intention (or here,
the non-intention), is stronger than
the kiss itself, than the taste,
than the impression, I guess
I wanted to impress him.
The Many Faces of Rain by Janice Cutting
The month of May in Austria has been one of the coolest and wettest in decades. What better way to celebrate the blessing of rain in an ever-hotter world than to capture it’s feeling in a poem. We thank Scottish Sunday Writers’ Club member Janice Cutting for sharing her refreshing poem entitled The Many Faces of Rain with us all.
May Podcast: The Lady of the Isle by Evangelista Sie
Listen to the Sunday Writers’ Club May 2021 Podcast. This month Paul Malone chats with Sunday Writers’ Club member Evangelista Sie about her writing and career in journalism, and Evangelista reads her latest short story titled The Lady of the Isle.
Zwerg, Spitz and Maus by Connie Phlipot
“I don’t like this name they call us. It’s derogatory on two counts.”
“How so?” asked Spitz.
“Pygmy denotes something inconsequential. And shrew is some nasty bitch in a boring Shakespeare play.”
“Zwerg, stop worrying and eat.”
“I just ate 10 ants and I’m bloated. I must weigh six grams by now.” Zwerg belched and toddled off to rest under a leaf.