Bulgarian Creative Writing Competition

Dear friends,

The Bulgarian Creative Writing Competition is back for its 15th edition, offering young writers across the country an exciting opportunity to unleash their creativity. This year’s competition brings a new twist with the special Literary Delights contest, inviting students to craft imaginative prose or poetry inspired by culinary themes.

About the Contest: The Literary Delights contest encourages participants to explore creative interpretations of food-related topics. Writers can submit tasty stories featuring unusual ingredients, poems about the flavors of memories, culinary adventures and sweet tales. This competition aims to highlight young writers’ originality while offering a fun, flavorful challenge.

Showcase Event: The winners of the contest will have the chance to present their work live at a public reading event on November 9th, 2024, at the Central Halls Stage in Sofia. This platform will allow the young authors to share their talent with a broader audience and celebrate their literary achievements.

To kick-off the contest we want to share with you this beautiful poem written by Dimitar - a student in 10th grade from Silistra.

The particular happiness of the lemon cake.

Maybe it’s just the feeling of a fresh lemon cake,
or maybe it’s the sparkling thrill when you bake.
Maybe it’s the taste, maybe it is not.
Maybe it’s just that happy vibe that it has got.
But when I was ten and saw mom holding the cake,
bringing it in my room, leaving sweet scent in its wake.
Only then, and only then could I feel
The pure emotion a child’s heart can never conceal.

Happiness.

Happiness so peculiar it’s only felt with the heart.
Happiness of the boy who just got his first kart.
Happiness of the girl and doll that can be never torn apart.
Happiness so innocent, childish and pure, simply a work of art.
The cake was mine and only mine.
And that’s the last time I felt so divine.
Now I’m thirty and working and lying and trying.
I tell myself “Be strong!” but I’m just slowly dying.
Caught in the spiderweb of adulthood and money.
An ugly scene, yes, but isn’t it just funny?
How today we are ten, tomorrow we are thirty?
Giving it our all when it’s not considered worthy?
Oh, how I want to be ten again.
Doing whatever I want just because I can.
Roaming the street, wondering “What should I do?”
Play with my friends, maybe chase a girl or two.
You can’t even imagine what I’d give and take
Just for one last bite of that cake.
I know this may seem a little sappy,
but I would do anything just to get a taste of what it was like to be happy.

Your generosity helps us plant the seeds of creativity this fall,

BCWC team

Dear friends,

We invite you to take a dive into the imagination of one of this year's winners.

The future in a jar

- a short story written by Nasko - 12th grader from Chelopech

My whole family, since time can remember, has been jarring future. Although some may argue, whether we have been jarring for the future or jarring the future itself – I personally prefer to see it as jarring the future. It has a pinch of world domination in it, doesn’t it? But not in the I-am-going-to-rule-all-of-you-! type of way! I mean it in a quite philosophical, sentimental manner…

Somewhere in the middle of the summer heat, when all of us, besides any logic, think of the whirling winters of our forgotten village, we start preparing for the jarring.

Turshaki is the name of an undefined by ethnology ritual.

Turshaki is a lifestyle.

Turshaki is the never-ending process of racing between a buzzing anxiety for the future and a stealth adoration of the current moment.

This is a tradition, passed by blood and preserved by love.

The whole family gathers around a table, placed in the middle of a garden to turshaki the crops we have produced during the past year. We wash it, cut it (or not), put in jars, filled with water, vinegar and salt and then boil it for a few minutes.

What do we do with the turshaki? Sell? God, no!

We are going to store it in dark basements, locked with a white thread and keep it, so we can consume it whenever the moment is right. And when we do… A number of great things may happen over the turshaki, laying peacefully on the family table.

Turshaki hears stories about fields being battled over by sisters and brothers in a war-like conflict.

Turshaki acknowledges the first giggles of a newborn and the last breaths of the ones passing away.

Turshaki loves Mara Tsikeritsa – the old lady it hears about every day during lunchtime.

If I were to explain to someone outside of my family and close friends circle that a mix of few veggies has taken the role of a family member in our home… Well, they might think I’m out of my mind.

I may be. All of us may be out of our minds, but I prefer it that way. All of the wise men in the Ancient times were thought to be mad. And in the end of the day, what’s so unusual about the turshaki tradition?

It represents how in times of having, you preserve for times you might not have (anything). It provides a sense of sustainability most of the world is craving nowadays and even it wasn’t – it’s still nice to know there’s a shoulder to cry on and a turshaki to put on the table. So, you can cry over it, too. It’s a jar of future, coming from the past that you may take with you in every present moment.

Turshaki is the trinity of life.

Turshaki is a saviour – you have no idea how many people it may comfort. From nostalgia, hunger or heartbreak. When you draw the line, we are all hungry for something.

Turshaki is the solution.

Some skeptics may say that pickling isn’t a treasured family tradition, but a worldwide food preservation practice. If you need to be a trivial sceptic, sure it is. The collective memory of an entire family tree has been rooted in turshaki, though. Disagree, if you dare!

Turshaki was my great-grandfather’s favorite food.

Turshaki is my favorite food.

Turshaki will be my nephew’s favorite food. He’s only two, but my sister says so. I believe my sister.

Some say that you are what you ea-

-        Honey…

-        Yes, mama!

-        Come pack some turshaki for college!

See?