The Wattys Boot Camp Mentorship Program is back for 2021! Did you write a story that you plan to submit to the Wattys? If the answer is yes, you've come to the right place. This program helps you prepare your submission to make it the best it can be...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Pitch:
Harriet, a stay-at-home mom with a workaholic husband and a dying father, struggles with a baking addiction as she tries to cope with her stress.
Blurb:
Stay-at-home mom Harriet has just about had it. As her husband puts in more and more hours at the office, she's stuck with six-year-old Sam and the looming insanity of the holiday season. Along with the usual event planning panic, fall brings constant reminders of her father's failing health and the limited time they have left together.
When her friend and renowned caterer Carol invites her over for a baking session, Harriet jumps at the opportunity to destress and learns Carol's secret ingredient to her stress-free lifestyle: venting her negative emotions into everything she bakes.
As Harriet's love for baking warps into an addiction to the comforting warmth of the oven, her new coping mechanism starts to look more and more like a recipe for disaster.
First chapter:
Harriet piped the final plume of red icing onto Sam's birthday cake with cramping hands. The chocolate cake rose into a towering peak with a ring of six candles illuminating the raspberry sauce pooled inside the crater at the top.
It was a mighty fine cake. Sure the 'lava' had turned out runny and there were cracks spidering up the side, but what was a volcano without a little chaos? She was sure Sam and his friends wouldn't mind. After all, the only thing messier than a volcano mid-eruption is a swarm of sugar-crazed six-year-olds.
Harriet peeked through the window. The boys were still preoccupied with their water guns, screaming their little brains out as they raced through the yard. Sam shot his with all the precision of a stormtrooper as Peter blasted him right in the middle of his favorite Barney shirt. Her son may not be a sharpshooter, but at least the plants would hopefully get watered.
There was still no sign of Frank.
Harriet ran a hand through her dark, frizzy curls. Of course he couldn't be bothered to come home early. Some days it felt like he'd still be at the office even if the apocalypse broke out, editing the footage he'd filmed for whatever weird product his team had been saddled with that month even as meteors pummeled the planet.
There was no sense waiting any longer, especially with the cake threatening to crumble.
With a flick of her wrist, Harriet struck a match and set the top of the cake ablaze. Carol held the door open for her as the other moms shepherded the kids over to the table they'd set up outside, complete with a jungle-themed tablecloth and Easter eggs filled with plastic dinosaurs for everyone to play with after they ate. "Looks delicious," Carol said with an approving smile. "I couldn't have asked for a better sous chef."
