Hello again! I’m Charlotte, your Showcase editor for November. This month, we’re thinking about the theme of ‘Difference’. As Prize Manager of The Wilbur & Niso Smith Foundation, I spend a lot of time reading and thinking about fictional differences: different cultures, different people and different times. In fact, in our definition of adventure writing and entry guidelines for the Foundation’s Adventure Writing Prize we stipulate that great adventure stories should allow readers to connect with a different reality or culture and take us on an epic journey, exploring new horizons – be they historical or geographical.

Why is it so important, though? Yes, difference is what fuels an adventure story: plunging characters into unknown situations and propelling the narrative forward as they adapt, overcome and grow. But, more than that, it allows readers to broaden their own worldview, in every sense of the word. Exposure to difference fosters empathy and understanding, which couldn’t be more important in today’s divided world and political climate. Through great writing, differences can not only be understood but, hopefully, bridged.

With that said, I’d like to introduce Breathless Air, a poem by Akshitha Ramalingam, which beautifully captures the heartbreak of unrequited love. The poem highlights how two people, when their feelings are out of sync, can see the same things through completely different lenses. Where one sees a beautiful sky, the other sees only storm clouds.

Breathless Air

He will move mountains and fight wars,
Wholly for her.
Would simply vaporize his blood, to see her
Dance under the clouds of happiness.
Unfortunately, there he pathetically drowns
In the ocean of tears,
Seeing her complain about:
The size of the mountain,
The deadliness of the war,
The density of the blood,
And the greyness of the clouds…

(c) Akshita Ramalingam, 2024

Connect with Akshitha via Instagram: @akshitharamalingam, LinkedIn linkedin.com/in/akshitharamalingam and via her website: akshitharamalingam.com.

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The following extract is by Atlas Weyland Eden, winner of our Author Of Tomorrow award for young writers. O Mapa explores the different ways people can perceive a map, as well as the perspective of the map itself. Again, the two differing views are chasms apart and show the reader the tension between ambition and understanding.

O Mapa

Lisbon, Portugal, 1502

It is late. The flurry of Lisboa has dulled to a murmur. A sultry autumn evening of twilight brawls and drunken dancing, and quiet muggings and murders. You quicken your pace. I can smell the sea, which – considering the sea is all anyone can ever smell in the western port of this western city clinging to the west coast of Ibérica – doesn’t help narrow things down. Then I hear your hurried breath as you turn a corner, and the air muffles.

A voice that isn’t yours says, ‘Pedro, I presume?’

‘Senhor Cantino.’

‘A pleasure,’ he replies, labouring at the language with practised ease. ‘Now, you have the map?’

You spread me on a table until I can see the faded patterns of the place – an abandoned mosque? – and the eager wrinkles around Cantino’s eyes. He studies me with strained intensity. At length, he says, with the faintest exasperation, ‘I already know where Jerusalém lies.’ He waves a hand at the world. ‘The city obscures the whole Middle East, while Europa drowns in the waters of Veneza! And the new continent—’

‘The reports claim it to be an island,’ you interject.

‘—is little more than a coastline. No rivers, no ports. Only parrots. Parrots the size of Itália!’

You breathe a weary breath. Even though your hand no longer touches my skin, our thoughts are aligned. How in maps of yore, when accuracy was a thing of little import, the world revolved around Jerusalém, when reality was a circle with Eden at its heart, a journey to Judgement Day and back. A map can never be a measure of reality: a map is made of empty spaces, and in those spaces you may glimpse the edges of your understanding, and in those edges is humility, a grace which may or may not be the grace of God.

‘You asked me to show you how Portugal sees the world.’ You gesture to the parchment. ‘This is what we see.’

‘An impressive coastline,’ he admits. ‘And the fact you completed this so soon… Certainly a Herculean feat. I cannot imagine why Manuel gave you up.’ Your eyes follow Cantino as he searches a pocket, removes a silken purse, weighs the contents, dips his hand. ‘For your service.’ Three heavy coins pass into your palm. Yet as you study them, hunger turns to horror.

‘You said six!’

Cantino raises his hands. ‘Complications arose. You will receive the rest once I return to Ferrara.’

‘By God, if you think—’

‘Venezian gold is hard to come by this side of Ibérica. But the Duke is a rich man, and generous to those who show patience. Shall we say, four more ducats, upon my safe arrival?’

You say nothing. You make no mention of your wife and son. Or of King Manuel, your old patron, who is also a rich man, and may well be interested in this Ferrarese spy at work in Lisboa. He expels a sigh. ‘Six, then! Twelve gold ducats in total, twice what I initially proposed.’

When the deal is done, and hands have shaken, you roll me back into blackness. And as I pass into Cantino’s grasp – six months of your life in six pieces of parchment, all the knowledge of the Empire of Portugal laid bare – you know deep down, with a silent and solemn contentment, that you will not be remembered.

© Atlas Weyland Eden, 2024

You can read more from Atlas on his website: atlaseden.co.uk

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Finally, we have a poem from Mary L Walsh: What’s The Difference? Through this repeated phrase, we could read apathy or defeat, but I think we can also see it as a challenge. A challenge to recognise a shared humanity underneath perceived difference, a challenge to disrupt cycles of harm, and even the challenge to ‘just STOP’.

What’s The Difference?

What’s the Difference?
What’s the difference if we bomb?
What’s the difference to live among
Why go on
What’s the difference If we kill and maim?
Is it the difference between sun and rain?
Why go on?
What’s the difference if we hate you and yours?
What’s the difference? Will you hate ours?
Why go on?
What’s the difference if we live in peace?
What’s the difference if we take our ease?
Why go on?
What’s the difference, see beneath the skin?
The difference in all human beings
Why go on?
What’s the difference if those that see
That the hate is normal for you and me?
Why go on?
What’s the difference if we just STOP
The difference between war or not
Why go on?
What’s the difference to this world
What’s the difference?

© Mary L Walsh, 2024

Connect with Mary via Instagram: @Marelwa60.

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If you’d like to see your writing appear in the Write On! Showcase, please submit your short stories, poetry or novel extracts to: pentoprint.org/get-involved/submit-to-write-on/

Hear extracts from Showcase in our podcast. Write On! Audio. Find us on all major podcast platforms, including Apple and Google Podcasts and Spotify. Type Pen to Print into your browser and look for our logo or find us on Spotify for Pocasters.

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If you or someone you know has been affected by issues covered in our pages, please see the relevant link below for ​information, advice and support​:

 

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If you’d like to see your writing appear in the Write On! Showcase, please submit your short stories, poetry or novel extracts to: pentoprint.org/get-involved/submit-to-write-on/

Hear extracts from Showcase in our podcast. Write On! Audio. Find us on all major podcast platforms, including Apple and Google Podcasts and Spotify. Type Pen to Print into your browser and look for our logo or find us on Spotify for Pocasters.

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If you or someone you know has been affected by issues covered in our pages, please see the relevant link below for ​information, advice and support​: