White City Wordsmiths Anthology


Hi Everyone-who-reads-this,

From the beginning of March up until the end of May, every Sunday, I had a pleasure to enjoy the company of a talented and friendly group of people. Together, we worked on our writing skills, bettering our perception of our own unique styles, helping others in the group to make progress in their writing, and, perfecting our poetry and/or prose.

Last Friday, thirteen of us from the WCW group, with our wonderful leader and our brave shadow ruler, had an amazing time presenting the fourth anthology, and, of course, reading some of our works. Yes, on Friday the 13th. And it was awesome!


Me. Like the tower of Pisa. Why? I have no idea.

Check me out on this LINK.

Here is, more or less, what I said in the video above:

“Alright, I’m nervous. [had to say it, it was kind of obvious though, since I missed the correct spot that we should stand on and speak] Now that I got that out, my name is Marija. And I love food. What I also love is writing. So, I decided to go on an adventure called White City Wordsmiths Workshop. There I met this great group of people who inspired me to write the first draft of this story I’m going to read to you. Small part, it’s a ─ it’s a fairly short story so a small part I will read [*clapping to myself ironically* great phrasing, amazing sentence, such eloquence, much words]. This is the final version and hopefully you will read it until the end. The- [opening the book, and suddenly realizing: “Shit, the title!”] The story is called About.”

The excerpt I read:

They were sitting in a small, warm room. Lit had spat some fire into a barrel to keep them warm, and to give them light since all the electricity was gone now. Oogor had consumed it all for the portals. It didn’t help that they hadn’t paid the bills over three months. There’s no money in doing magic tricks all day. Kanar’s weird mohawk was slumped to the side, and bobbing all around. His arms were shaking, making the papers in his hands rustle.

“I can’t. It has to be done. This is crazy!”

“Please, Kanar. Calm down…” said Lit, her voice harsh.

“All you people do all fucking day is magic! I have a job, and I have to finish school. I also lead this god-forsaken workshop. This can’t go on. I feel like shit.”

“Okay. Alright. It’s fine. Look, man, we’ll stop. Deal?” Anek nodded towards the others.

They gave him a blank look. Famona sneezed and flew a little.

My story About…, and a poem called Triptych were featured in this anthology, among other great literary works.

Here is how the book looks like:


White City Wordsmiths anthology.

I want to take this opportunity and say to my fellow Wordsmithers:

Thank you guys for an amazing experience, for all those laughs, for enduring my not-so-used-to-such-a-direct-critique-face, and for helping me see new ways of thinking and writing. Cheers to you!

Thank you Mom, Una, and My Other Heart, for coming and supporting me in this wonderful event!

And thank you, reader, for… well, reading. 😅

Don’t forget to like, comment and share.

And, as always, happy reading!

Mary Matshine