Welcome to our newest challenge... Cookin' Up Summer! Below you will find a list of 7 intros to choose from which you can use to inspire your story. Please note the challenge guidelines following the intros...

Please post your questions here, and the moderators of this forum will be happy to answer them for you.

Option #1


Doubt. It had invaded her life, corroded her mind and very nearly destroyed the relationship she desired most of all even though she had been warned against doubt’s insidious attacks all her life.

“It’s the curse the women of this family have to bear,” her Nona had warned over and over again. “Don’t allow yourself to become its prey, for it will ensnare you, suffocate you, suck the life right out of you, leaving you paralyzed with fear…” Her grandmother loved melodrama, but in this case she had spoken the truth.

That was exactly how she felt lately and it had all started with an innocent jest in the bullpen. She knew better than to let it get the best of her, and yet she’d been behaving like an innocent bystander while she watched Doubt chip away at her self-esteem and then her confidence. What would be next? Loosing Nona, had been the biggest blow. The feisty lady had died in her sleep two weeks ago and her affairs had been wrapped up today.

It wasn’t that the old lady had many earthly possessions to bequeath. She hadn’t been a rich woman and she hadn’t been prone to holding on to things that didn’t have sentimental value. She had lived in a modest one-bedroom apartment over a dry cleaners for the last twenty years. Nona had enjoyed a Spartan life style and there was very little to settle after the funeral.

Family members had gathered in the little apartment for the last time as they stoically bore the reading of None’s will which listed the distribution of her odd assortment of valueless keepsakes. To the very end, her grandmother had maintained her sense of humour.

To my nephew, Martin, I give my hand lawn mower, though the blade is nicked in three places and the handle is loose. May he enjoy the fruit of his labors as he breaks a sweat for the first time in his pampered life. May he learn the value of hard work and the priceless contribution our simple laborers make to improve our world.

Martin had been unimpressed and had dumped the mower at the local Salvation Army store on the way out of town.

To my dear daughter I leave my entire set of 1964 Encyclopedias even though most of the interesting pictures have been cut out -- by your own hand, my darling, for one project or another over your school years. This so that you may you take to heart the old adage, what goes around comes around.

To my sweet grand daughter, still intent on finding her place in this world, I leave the Family Heirloom Recipe Book. May the courage and wisdom of our numerous ancestors ease her mind and penetrate her heart and uplift her future…

She hefted the thick tome onto the kitchen counter and stared at it uncertainly. It had always held the place of honour on the top right hand side of Nona’s kitchen bookcase. She had never taken an interest in the contents, though she had seen both her mother and her grandmother adding notations along the margins of the worn pages from time to time. Now it belonged to her – this piece of family history.

She brushed her finger along the gilded edges of the worn pages. Most of the gold had rubbed off from overuse, but the luster still shone from the binding. The heart of this family lies within these pages. Guard it well and liberally add love. The leather crackled as she opened the book. As was her custom with every book she read, she peeked at the last page first and then gasped as she read the spidery scrawl of the final entry.

Darling,

For once in your life, start at the beginning. Find your connection with the women of your past and you will finally connect with your future.

Nona

Disgruntled, she obediently flipped to the front of the book, skimming as the pages fluttered by. There were many notations written in the margins. Everything from practical advice; use less flour for crunchier cookie, to laundry tips; use left over lemon juice to lift strawberry stains from baby’s bib. She laughed out loud at one of the earliest notations from a kindred spirit; note to self; pluck pheasant before braising. She stopped laughing however when she reached the title page.

Here in lie the ingredients necessary to complete your own Recipe for Happiness. Savor and enjoy!

Option #2


She couldn’t wait to share her news. The temptation to step on the gas pedal so that she might reach her destination sooner was a strong one, but she resisted it. A traffic ticket would slow her down more than anything else could, and though she doubted it was possible, she didn’t want anything to put a damper on her mood. Besides, she was already late, and she knew that her friends would still be there waiting for her, even if she was the last to arrive.

Smiling as she thought about the event that had taken place before she’d left to spend an all-girls weekend with her two best friends, she wondered how they’d react when she told them…would they be surprised, or had they seen the signs before she’d been able to recognize them herself?

These women had been there for her in times that weren’t so happy; now that her dreams were coming true one by one, she was fairly bursting at the seams to share her good news with them. Glancing quickly at her directions, her smile widened as she realized her destination was right around the next corner.

Option #3


Final golden rays of the setting sun, laced with hues of pink and purple, peeked through the window. He spared it only a glance, knowing instinctively that he didn’t have much time. The plan had been set in motion months earlier, every minute detail painstakingly deliberated and carried out with absolute precision. There was no room for error.

He turned to survey the ingredients that had been carefully laid out for assembly. Though he’d committed them to memory months ago, he kept his notes close at hand. An error at this juncture could ruin everything.

The slight tremor in his hand betrayed his inner tension. Odd, really. He was committed to this course of action… had chosen it, had looked forward to this night, to what would happen as the events of his plan unfolded. He had no intention of turning back.

It was time. Taking a deep breath he reached for the first item and carefully began to measure…

Option #4


“That’s not how Mommy does it.”

His pint-sized assistant chef watched every move with her eagle eye and had done nothing but complain from the moment he’d tied her little red apron around her waist.

“Okay – what does Mommy do differently?” He wasn’t a fool, if he wanted to get out of this kitchen any time soon he’d have to fold. A strong man always knew when he was bested.

“She shifts it first.”

“Shifts it?” Baffled, he looked at his daughter quizzically.

She giggled. “Silly Daddy. Everybody knows you gotta shift the flour into another bowl before you put it in the cake batter.”

Making a comical face that left her rolling on the floor, he stepped over her writhing form and fetched another bowl. “Shift it, huh?” It made no sense, but then the kitchen wasn’t usually his domain. He dumped the mixture from the earthenware bowl into the big red plastic bowl. “There, happy now?” he asked, whereupon the pint-sized version of his wife climbed back onto her stool, dropping her head into her hands she shook it woefully and asked in a tone perilously close to a whine, “Is Mommy ever going to come back home?”

Option #5


Ugh, she groaned silently. I swear it’s one step forward and a hundred steps back when it comes to that man. It has been how many months, how many missed opportunities. And still, nothing. She walked to her desk, wondering if her relationship with the handsome agent would ever go further than the friendship stage. She flopped down into her desk chair and flipped on the computer screen. If my mother hadn’t raised me that men are supposed to make the first move, I’d kiss him senseless. Maybe then he’d get the picture.

She groaned as she tried to focus on the reports piled on her desk. It was no use to even dream about making the first move. Her mother would have an absolute conniption fit if she made the first move. She smiled slowly as an idea dawned on her. But Mother did always say she had the perfect recipe to win a man’s heart. You know what they say, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. She glanced up as the object of her affections strode into the Bullpen. It’s definitely worth a try. Her eyes danced around the Bullpen, taking in her two best girlfriends. And if it looks like it is working, then I’ll share with them.

She turned her attention to her computer, quickly pulling up her e-mail, she typed furiously. With a satisfied smile, she hit “Send.” With any luck, by the end of the day, her mother’s recipe would be in her hands and Project Man’s Heart would be underway.

Option #6


A recipe for disaster -- that’s what this was turning out to be. With a yelp of pain he dropped the pan of burnt cookies and dived for the faucet, sighing in relief as the cold cascade of water cooled the burn streak across his fingertips. Even his oven mitts weren’t cooperating, he thought, eyeing the gaping hole in one of them.

His latest baking spree had turned into a weekend long marathon, dotted with one disaster after another. In his estimation, sugar should not look exactly like salt. Accidents were bound to happen and he was sure he wasn't the first person to put a cup of salt into a batch of cookies. And who knew there were so many kinds of sugar anyway? Demerra, yellow, dark brown, fine, confectioner’s, cane…They looked different, felt different and definitely yielded different results when added to a batch of cookie dough. And since when did roll out cookies mean flattening out with a rolling pin, not rolling the dough into a ball? Or why hadn’t his mother warned him that baking soda and baking powder were not interchangeable? And that eggs came in different sizes but recipes didn’t specify which size was called for?

Head spinning, he muttered his exasperation in unflattering terms as he turned off the tap and set about cleaning the kitchen…again. He’d done little else the past two days and he was no closer to finding the perfect recipe, and the contest was this week! Cursing the collective bad luck of the ‘bullpen boys’ as Lucy had dubbed them he took out some of his frustration on the hapless charred remains of what were supposed to be his grandmother’s never-fail hermit cookies. He’d likely have to become a hermit after this fiasco was all over.

“Eleanor Rippendorf!” Her name rolled off his tongue like the vilest of oaths and he took great delight in upending the cookie tray into the garbage. If only Eleanor could be dismissed that easily.

She had cornered thier ususpecting group at a restaurant, just as she had in previous years, catching them unawares as they wolfed down a hasty lunch without the girls for protection. Sue and Lucy had gone to Charlie’s on some errand and Tara had been at an ill-timed dental appointment, which left the men of the team vulnerable to the attack.

Eleanor had swooped in, a chilling combination of coos and trills as she launched into her latest charity project. A celebrity bake off.

“That’s great, Eleanor, but we’re not celebrities,” he had pointed out with a false sense of relief.

“You are to me, fellas,” she’d said as she batted her eyelashes and pursed her lips. He’d known a moment of blind panic when he thought she was going to lean over and kiss him but D had deftly distracted her by lamenting his unavailability due to his married status.

“This time it doesn’t matter, handsome. We’re looking for the best cooks DC has to offer from all walks of life. I’ll put you in our Community Service Worker division. All we need from you is a plate of your very own home baked cookies and the recipe, written out in your own manly script. Our discerning judges…of which I am one…(twitter)…will provide the necessary tastebuds…(she rolled her tongue and poked it out the side of her mouth along with a suggestive wink)…We’ll decide who gets into the semi-finals. The finals take place on the Fourth of July when you’ll head up a hand-picked team to bake your cookies in our outdoor ovens and the public will decide who our top twelve winners will be. They win a page in our…Hunk of the Month calendar…photo and recipe included. All proceeds go to the children’s hospital…How can you say no to that?”

A hearty round of nays had echoed through the restaurant and that was that until the call came from upstairs. In the interest of improving public relations it was deemed beneficial for certain agents to volunteer their services to a charitable cause…

He’d been baking each weekend ever since and had yet to find an edible recipe and now time was running out.

Option #7


“But…” Tara sighed when her mother wouldn’t let her get a word in edgewise. She juggled the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she stooped down to rummage through her fridge. Left over pasta or two-day-old pizza? She grimaced at the shriveled choices before her and then cautiously edged the crisper drawer open, shuddering when she caught a glimpse of the contents. “Nothing crispy about that…uh, yeah Mom, I’m listening. Uh-huh…every word, but…” She stifled a groan and chose the lesser of two evils, popping the lasagna into the microwave.

Hitching herself up onto the kitchen counter, she gazed at the clock in consternation. 45 minutes! No wonder she was starved. After a late breakfast and an apple for lunch she’d worked an hour’s overtime before driving home. About to call in Chinese takeout, she answered the phone before checking call display and now, nearly an hour later, her mother was in one of her talkative moods.

The ping of the microwave interrupted her the latest torrent of words and Tara hastily leapt in. “Like I said, Mom, I’ll think about it, but right now I have to…”

She sighed when her mother refused to let her off that easy. A litany of dire warnings, a well-aimed guilt trip and the parting threat of a dastardly curse had her pinky promising. Only then did her mother end the phone call with her standard, “You always were a good girl, Tara. Love you to bits,” before she hung up.

It came as no surprise that while she had been otherwise occupied the lasagna had turned to rubber – an unappetizing blob that identically resembled the puke her cat, Dixie had barfed up right before she keeled over and died.

“Definitely inedible,” she declared, tossing the tray into the garbage can while her stomach growled a protest. She patted it reassuringly. “Don’t worry we still have oatmeal,” and started the fixings.

There was something soothing about eating breakfast food at dinnertime. She savored the cinnamony taste of the hot cereal and munched contentedly on a crisp piece of raisin toast....well, as contented as she could be given her mother’s final ultimatum.

It was time. She had known it for weeks. She felt the pull every night now when she came home from work. Regardless of how exhausted she was it was there, demanding an audience. Time was running out. Her birthday was in three weeks. The big 3-0. A landmark year worth celebrating. She knew Lucy and Sue were planning a surprise party. She snorted in amusement -- and they thought Sue was the only one who could read lips. Tara was getting pretty good at picking up the odd phrase here and there…things like “Shhh, she’s coming.” And “Surprise party,’ and “Secrets.” It was sweet of them and she would be suitably surprised when the time came – provided her atoms hadn’t been scattered to the four winds on the stroke of midnight on the eve of her birth, as the prophecy proclaimed.

She glanced up at her hallway closet and suddenly the bowl of oatmeal she’d just snarfed down felt like a lead weight in her belly. Pushing her chair out from the table she stood and walked briskly to the closet. Pulling the door ajar she glanced inside the murky depths and blindly groped for the battered box she knew was stashed at the very back. Her hands closed over it easily and she staggered backwards under the surprising weight of it. She teetered over to the couch and plunked the box down, staring at it suspiciously. She hadn’t lifted the lid once since her mother had sent the box to her seven years ago. She didn’t have to look, she knew what was inside and the power that it held over her…and all the Williams’ women for as far back as anyone could remember.

Tipping the lid open cautiously, she peeked inside. It was there, in all its resplendent glory. A family heirloom, it had been past down from mother to daughter for centuries. Now it was her turn with the ‘recipe book’ as her mother laughingly referred to it.

It was all well and good for her mother to be irreverent about it. She’d done her time and survived, cheerfully thrusting the familial obligation onto her daughter when she left home to come work in DC. She’d been nagging her ever since.

“Have you tried any of the recipes, dear?”

“You might find page 48 helpful with that little problem, darling, just give it a try.”

“Nothing to it, sweetie, once you get the hang of it. Try 21. It’s scrumptious…”

Her mother thought it was cute the way she used cooking terminology to describe the contents of the book.

“Cooking!” Tara scoffed. “If you like cooking up trouble.”

She gazed morosely at the object of her angst, childishly making a face at it as she sullenly turned to the table of contents and skimmed down the line of odd recipes. Page 21 caught her eye. Love Potion Pie. Curious in spite of her self, she ruffled through the pages and scanned the ingredients quickly.

Ugh. She shuddered. And people actually ate this stuff? Still, she supposed the lovelorn would stoop to anything to change their solitary fate. It was a sad fact of life – especially for women. There just weren’t enough commitment minded guys out there. She had first hand knowledge on that score. She gazed at the ingredient list again and then committed the instructions to heart, grimacing when she caught the twist in the last sentence.

“Of course you can’t make it for yourself. That’s against the rules,” she muttered and wrinkled her nose in distaste and then read the last line out loud. “Though a ripple effect is a common occurrence and it is often to the benefit of the ‘cook’.”

She leafed back to the forward, which contained the curse in gruesome detail. All manner of hideous things would happen to the Williams’ heir who did not attempt at least one potion recipe from the book before her 30th birthday.

“Just peachy keen and groovy,” she mumbled to herself as she studied Love Potion on page 21 again. "Everyone else I know gets handed down tried and true recipes for pot roast and matrimony cake while I get handed a book of spells with a curse. Next thing you know Mother’s going to send me a broom and a black cat.”

She glumly perused the book but kept coming back to page 21. The book was like that, she’d been told. It picked the perfect spell for the first time potion maker. It was best to go with the book’s gut instinct, rather than your own. Grandma Williams given that advice years ago.

So Love Potion it was…but who would be the most likely candidates for her first foray into the family's secret hobby?

After choosing an intro, the next step will be to choose a title from the list below:

Recipe for Disaster
Recipe for Fun
Recipe for Happiness
Recipe for Romance
Recipe for Success
Recipe for Love
Recipe for Trouble
Recipe for Danger
Recipe for Murder

Once you have your intro and your title, let 'er rip! The Challenge opens immediately and runs through August 15, at midnight in your location. To enter, simply indicate the intro that you are going to write (1 – 7) and place your name after the title you have chosen.

An Example:
TOPIC TITLE: Opt. #1 - Recipe for Murder - TinaLynne
TOPIC DESCRIPTION: PG13
Don’t forget to include your rating (G, PG, PG13, PG17) in the description line!

-You are welcome to write using any of the intros that you wish – BUT you MUST complete each entry BEFORE you can begin another. And you can use each intro only once. Same goes with the title choices.

-Stories must be standalones, but they can be AU (Alternate Universe) stories or crossovers with other television shows (must have STFBE characters in it though).

The stories will be judged within the following categories:

1. Sugar (Best Romance - J/S pairing)
2. Powdered Sugar (Best Romance - Other Pairing)
3. Salt (Best Drama)
4. Yeast (Most Inspirational/Uplifting Story)
5. Lemon Zest (Best Plot "Twist")
6. Flour (Best Plot Development)
7. Secret Ingredient (Best Original Character)
8. Chopped Nuts (Best Comedy)
9. Chocolate (Best Yummy Recipe)*
10. Cinnamon (Best New Writer)**
11. Shake and Serve (Best Short Story - 5,000 words or less)
12. Baked to Perfection (Best Story)

*Totally optional but absolutely encouraged is incorporating a recipe into your story and providing your readers with a copy of it so that they can try it themselves! (Chocolate is not a required ingredient in your recipe.) We thought this would be a fun interactive twist to the challenge! So get out your baking mitts and try out some yummy recipes to include in your stories.

**To qualify for this award, you must have no more than one completed story on the site at the beginning of the Challenge.

This is not a question. I just wanted to comment that whoever thought up this challenge is definitely exceptional. This is marvelous!

I can't wait to read all the exciting stories that I know will come out of this challenge!

Lynn

just want to clarify something since we use a different term over in england. does cookies include biscuits and small cakes which is what we call them e.g would Mrs hudsons cinamon rolls come under the term 'cookies?'

cookies over here are small round biscuits with biits of chocolate chips in!!

great challenge by the way

cath

You know, I'm never sure about the short stories if there is an intro. Does the 5000 word limit include that as well?

Cath- I think the cinnamon rolls would be buns... like sticky buns? cookies = biscuits for sure though...

I was thinking the same thing Linny....? It should be judged on actual words written by the author, right?

Cath, use the terminology you are most comfortable with. If the descriptions are clear enough, your readers will know what it is, regardless of what it might be called where they live in the world.

Linny, we will not count the intro in your 5000 word limit for short stories. I haven't counted, but a couple of those intros might be long enough to hit the 5000 mark all on their own!

Lynn, thanks for your comments. We've enjoyed putting this challenge together and are very excited to see the stories (and recipes!) that are posted!

This is also not a question, but a comment - I am reading this intro's. What great challenge. I can't wait to read all these stories and I might just join in on the fun with this one.

First of all - really great challenge! Very unique! Cheers to all the brains who thought of this and who organised it!

Now my question, I was wondering about the author.. Do you have to have one finished story on the site?
All I have written right now is a Missing Scene, so I wouldn't be able to take part in the challenge right away?

This challenge is open to beginning writers and experienced writers alike...so go for it!

There has been some confusion about the standalone guideline on this challenge. For clarification sake, a standalone story must stand completely on its own merits. Another story may use elements from the first story, but each story must stand entirely on its own and make complete sense to the reader without seeing the other story. Further, there cannot be any author’s notes or comments on one story that refer or direct the readers’ attention to the other. It’s a very fine line to tread, and our Mod Team will collectively review any stories in question.

If you have questions about this, please PM a member of the Mod Team.

Thanks!
Janet, Admin

Help! I have decided to enter the summer challenge and need to know if the 5,000 word limit includes the recipes. It is a short story (which is a challenge in and of itself to me);

but, I'm approaching the 3,500 mark (without the recipes) and am only half done with the story. So, I need to know if the 254 words in the recipes will count toward the 5,000 words. If they do, I'm gonna have to do some major editing!

Thanks!

Lynn

Wow! Well, it's definitely not too late to enter. The 5000 word limit doesn't include the recipes or the intro that you choose.

I get to write 254 more words! Thanks.

Lynn

This is probably a really silly question, and I apologise, but when you say the challenge ends at midnight on the fifteenth, do you mean tonight (between 14th/15th) or tomorrow night (15th/16th)? I have been assuming the latter, but suddenly had a horrible thought that it wasn't and that I ought to check!

S

It's tomorrow night....so you have all of the 15th until the clock strikes midnight in your time zone.

Yes! I only need to go into moderate stress mode rather than full out panic, now!
Thanks (and sorry for the silly question!)

Not only am I new to the writing part of the website, but I'm also new to the workings of a Challenge:

How do we vote? I noticed that there's a "ballot", so I'm guessing we can all vote for other stories?

Stollhofen, the ballot for the Cookin' Up Summer Challenge 2007 is being compiled and will be up soon for voting. A link will be posted in the Challenge Section leading you to the ballot. You can vote for your favorites in the different categories that were listed in the Summer Challenge guidelines. The ballot is pretty straight forward and you shouldn't have any problem following it. If you have any questions feel free to PM me, Kav or any of the other mods and we will be glad to help you. Please note that you can only vote once for each category. And, you can definitely vote for yourself!!

Good luck on the challenge!!!

Joy (Suesfan)