Hoyne Brewing Company and partners present their 3rd annual short fiction contest in honour of James Joyce and Bloomsday. The aim is to provide new writers with an opportunity to expose their work, while introducing them to the world of James Joyce’s Ulysses. All proceeds from the contest and event will be donated to Victoria Literacy Connection.
All entrants and volunteers will be invited to the James Joyce Bistro Bloomsday event on June 16th. Shortlisted entrants will be invited to read (or have their work read) after the Ulysses presentation, followed by the awards presentation. The shortlisted entries will be displayed at the event and published in a special edition chap book.
All proceeds from the contest, chap book, silent auction and $1 from every Hoyne pint sold at the event will be donated to Literacy Victoria. Shortlisted entries will be notified by email on June 2nd and the winners announced on June 16th, 2017 at James Joyce Bistro Bloomsday event. For more information, contact our event coordinator at firstname.lastname@example.org
Word limit: 500 words (entries above the word limit will be disregarded).
Content: Entries must be inspired by one of the provided James Joyce quotes and include a reference to any 1 Hoyne beer brand name. e.g. Dark Matter, Devil’s Dream, Summer Haze…
Winning entries will be published in a special edition Bloomsday Chap Book.
1st Place) Sunshine Coast Writers Festival – Valued at $700 dollars.
- 1 pass to the Sunshine Coast Writers Festival for Friday and Saturday.
- Gift certificate to Gumboot cafe.
- $400 towards accommodation.
2rd Place) Vancouver Writers Festival – Valued at $450 dollars.
- 1 day pass to the Vancouver writer’s festival
- 1 night accommodation at the Listel Hotel
- Gift certificate to dinner for 2 at Timbre
3nd Place) Russell Books Gift Certificate – Valued at $300 dollars.
- $200 Gift certificate to Russell Books
- Brewery tour from Hoyne Brewing for 8 people.
- Hoyne Brewing gift pack
- Choice of $300 cash or $500 towards tuition.
- 1 hour workshop with a creative writing tutor.
Please Note: Participants must be 19 and above to enter.
Choose one of the following quotes from Ulysses as the inspiration for your story. Please specify which quote you have used. You do not have to include the quote within your piece.
[Buck Mulligan] flung up his hands and tramped down the stone stairs, singing out of
tune with a Cockney accent:
O, WON’T WE HAVE A MERRY TIME,
DRINKING WHISKY, BEER AND WINE!
O, WON’T WE HAVE A MERRY TIME ON CORONATION DAY!
Warm sunshine merrying over the sea. The nickel shavingbowl shone,
forgotten, on the parapet. Why should I bring it down? Or leave it there
all day, forgotten friendship?
– -History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.
From the playfield the boys raised a shout. A whirring whistle: goal.
What if that nightmare gave you a back kick?
– -The ways of the Creator are not our ways, Mr Deasy said. All human
history moves towards one great goal, the manifestation of God.
Stephen jerked his thumb towards the window, saying:
– -That is God.
Hooray! Ay! Whrrwhee!
– -What? Mr Deasy asked.
– -A shout in the street, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders.
His shadow lay over the rocks as he bent, ending. Why not endless till
the farthest star? Darkly they are there behind this light, darkness
shining in the brightness, delta of Cassiopeia, worlds. Me sits there with
his augur’s rod of ash, in borrowed sandals, by day beside a livid sea,
unbeheld, in violet night walking beneath a reign of uncouth stars.
I throw this ended shadow from me, manshape ineluctable, call it back.
Endless, would it be mine, form of my form? Who watches me here? Who ever
anywhere will read these written words? Signs on a white field. Somewhere
to someone in your flutiest voice. The good bishop of Cloyne took the veil of the temple out of his shovel hat: veil of space with coloured emblems
hatched on its field. Hold hard. Coloured on a flat: yes, that’s right.
Flat I see, then think distance, near, far, flat I see, east, back. Ah,
see now! Falls back suddenly, frozen in stereoscope. Click does the trick.
You find my words dark. Darkness is in our souls do you not think?
The deadline for entries is May 22nd at Midnight.
HOW TO ENTER:
A minimum $10 donation per submission to Victoria Literacy Connection (entrants can submit multiple pieces).
For online submissions
Step 1. Go to the Victoria Literacy Connection website, https://www.canadahelps.org/dn/18743 to make your donation. Record the donation confirmation number.
Step 2. Email your submission to Hoyne Brewing at email@example.com as a pdf. or doc.
Please Note: This is a blind contest, do not submit your name directly on your piece.
All entries must include the following in the body of the e mail.
- Donation confirmation number from Literacy Victoria Connection.
- The quote that inspired the piece.
- Word Count of the piece.
- First name, last name, age (must be 19yrs or older to enter) and address.
- Where you heard about the 3rd Annual Bloomdsay Fiction Contest.
Please Note: The quote does not count towards the word count of the piece.
All applicants will receive a confirmation email once their submission has been received.
For drop off or mailed entries:
All entries must be typed and double spaced, one side of standard 8½ x 11 paper and submitted with a cheque (no cash please) made out to Victoria Literacy Connection and a separate sheet with contact info.
Hoyne Brewing Company, 101-2740 Bridge St. Victoria, BC. V8T 5C5. Mailed entries must be postmarked no later than May 22nd.
Sean Hoyne – Owner, Hoyne Brewing Company
Matt Huculak – Post Doctoral Fellow, University of Victoria Libraries
John Threlfall -Communications Officer, Faculty of Fine Arts, University of Victoria
Adrien Sala – Professional Writer
David Leach– Chair, Dept. Of Writing, University of Victoria
Partners and Sponsors:
James Joyce Bistro
Victoria Literacy Connection
UVic English Department
Shortlisted entries will be notified by email on Friday June 2nd and the winners announced on June 16th, 2017 at James Joyce Bistro Bloomsday event. For more information, contact firstname.lastname@example.org
Hoyne Brewing Co is on the hunt for friendly spokespeople/beer peddlers to help us out with tastings and events in Victoria and the lower mainland this summer!
If you love talking to people, are passionate and knowledgeable about craft beer and have a Serving It Right certificate, we want to hear from you! Having your own vehicle and being available on Fridays/Saturdays is also an asset.
Send a resume and a quick line about yourself to:
Vancouver area: email@example.com
Victoria area: firstname.lastname@example.org
Hoyne Brewing Co is looking for a craft beer lover to join our Vancouver delivery team. The ideal candidate is a reliable team player with a positive attitude, is self motivated with exceptional organizational skills, and is committed to providing excellent customer service. Bonus points if you’ve driven a 3 or 5 tonne truck, and have your forklift certification.
This is a full time position with a full compensation package, including health benefits.
Daily Tasks include:
- Organizing delivery routes so as to fulfill demanding delivery schedules in a timely manner, while offering top notch customer service.
- Picking orders accurately and loading vehicles safely
- Rotating stock and organizing cold rooms in our accounts
- Assisting with warehouse duties
- Troubleshooting issues in an effective manner
- Professional and courteous communication with our customers, our sales team, orders desk and other drivers
- Class 5 BC drivers license, and a clean abstract.
- Must be physically fit and able to safely lift over 50 lbs
- Experience in deliveries and/or knowledge of the craft beer industry is an asset!
If you love great beer and hard work, we want to hear from you. Email a cover letter and resume to email@example.com
Territory Manager – Craft Beer
Hoyne Brewing Company – North Vancouver Island (Nanaimo North, negotiable)
|Territory Manager (Dual: OnPremise and Retail, FT)|
Located in the heart of Victoria’s brewing district, Hoyne Brewing has just celebrated it’s 5th year anniversary. To help continue our growth we are adding an additional Territory Manager to our Island sales team.
Education & Experience:
How to Apply:
Required experience: Sales and/or hospitality industry: 2 years
Required license or certification: Clean Driving Record
Join us this July in supporting the Atira Women’s Resource Society. “Atira Women’s Resource Society is dedicated to supporting women and children affected by violence by offering safe and supportive housing and by delivering education and advocacy aimed at ending all forms of gendered violence.” Janice Abbot, CEO, Atira
Atira envisions a world free of inequalities, where everyone’s human rights are respected and where women and girls have the right to participate fully and effectively in all of the decisions that affect their lives.
Atira is working to establish urban bee colonies at some of its shelter locations. Hoyne Brewing is proud to partner with Atira to help raise funds and awareness around their hive program. From now until the end of July, pick up a bottle of Summer Haze at our growler station or at select Private Retail Liquor stores throughout Vancouver Island and the Lower Mainland, and we will donate $0.50 to Atira.
Please visit their website for more information about the amazing work they do: atira.bc.ca
Thank you so much to everyone who submitted a piece to the 3rd Annual Bloomsday Fiction Contest! The judges had a hard time deciding who would make the top 3 as so much talent was submitted.
We are excited to announce our top 3 winners!
Third Place– Signs on A White Field, Martin Phipps
“Oh, God. Oh, baby.”
“Quickly! Say it!”
“Non serviam! Agenbite of inwit! Introibo ad altare Dei!”
“Me sits there with his augur’s rod of ash! In borrowed sandals! By day beside a livid sea, unbeheld! In violet night walking beneath a reign of uncouth stars!”
“Call me Molly! Molly!”
“Molly! Am I better than Poldy? And Blazes?”
” Yes! Yes! My breasts all perfume! Oh Stephen, yesssss!”
Shortly after which, calmer, in midJune sunshine that turned her left breast, peeking from the sheets, the colour of Sandycove beach on Bloomsday, she exhaled sleepily, “Now that’s how we should celebrate it every year.”
A pretty scatter of freckles like stars reigned over her pale breast, collarbone, and the face that now squinted at him in the light, her expression no longer livid and uncouth but her usual one, with sly wit twinkling in her eyes. Something smart-assed forever on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be said. God, he was lucky.
“Year after year,” he nodded.
Instantly she went from pleased dreaminess to something like annoyance. “Well. If you’re lucky.” Bounding out of bed, briskly re-dressing. A glance over a shoulder at him, ambiguous-eyed, grinning. “Don’t go counting those chickens.”
“No?” Women were harder to read than Ulysses, but this girl was Finnegans Wake.
Walking downtown later, bound for The Martello Tower, where they planned to toast the day with some Hoynes, she mystified him again by pulling his arm away from her waist and announcing, right on the doorstep of the place, that Keith would join them.
“From my semiotics seminar.”
“Oh. Dude with the GT3.”
“And beachfront condo. And web-design company. And wife.” She ruffled his hair like he was twelve. “Relax, tragic undergraduate.”
He tried. The smug, 30ish personage claiming ownership with his big, outstretched arms of the most of the booth they slid into didn’t immediately inspire loathing. It took a minute. “I’ll go order,” he muttered. “Hard Rain’s good.” This got nods, so he escaped to the bar, where he covertly watched in the mirror as they talked in his absence – intimately, all smiles. He hurried back with three bottles but somehow managed, passing them around, to knock one over. Keith caught it.
“Whoa,” He chuckled, “your Hard Rain was A-Gonna Fall.”
“He got the Nobel,” he snorted, without explaining the reference, leaning close to his classmate. “Joyce didn’t. Or Proust, Kafka.”
” I know,” she lamented, touching his shoulder, and then shot her boyfriend an annoyed look. “Dylan, get it?”
Whereupon Keith launched into some doctoral-candidate shoptalk, and after token glances his way, they excluded him. He drank. Beers later, he found himself thinking of Stephen Daedalus, brooding over Sandycove’s indecipherable reality, then, inspired, scribbling sudden words, signs on a white field, as he called them. Like the freckles on her pallor. A text he couldn’t decode.
Walking back, beneath the stars, she kissed him, laughing. “Don’t pout!”
“I wish I could read you!”
“Let’s go home and try.”
Second Place – Abide Strange Tidings, Jordan Kovacs
You should not have raised your home here, this low plain, for the sea swells in unpredictable patterns, rushing to flatten the grasses into marshland. The gurgle of pipes – your cistern climbs, overflows, to rot your bedroom in an afternoon. So you lay awake through stormy nights, blanket clutched to nose, paralysis rising with rain.
Collect ash in old grain-alcohol barrels. Chart the procession of the moon. Under night, before your restless vigil over the flood, kneel at the foot of your bed and pray for the sea, curse the sea, then crawl into shallow sheets. None can suppress the tide.
Not all bear the low lands as you must. Up the lane a miller lies on a rise beneath his wooden windmill. The miller eats warm breads in rain storms. The floods always touch his crops last. He is a great entertainer –a philosopher, some say, others, philanderer. You have only heard. Solitary stands his tower above the expanse, for it is a poor place – prices to grind grains rise every season; the miller grows fatter.
Late August, and no flood comes. The sky, bright and still. Where is the flood? Not a passing bird rustles in response. The windmill shudders under a barest breeze. Your shovel bites silt, a grainy litany rippling through the summer haze. This ditch can never hold all the sea. Spent, lay down your spade.
The sensation strikes like a lumber axe – silence. The creak of the windmill, omnipresent, now mute. No wind. No movement. The silence on the low plain descends so heavily a mole two leagues away stops producing milk and her litter starves quietly. Enter your home. One trunk – pack everything.
The sun does not move in the sky for three days in the silence. House bare, harness a cart with all objects around your waist and tread uphill, to the mill. No warmth escapes the sun, though brightness sears your eyes to a squint, focused on that mill. One careful step at a time, so not to disturb the quiet, which is now imperative, strain up the hill. Bear the weight, the tremble in your calves, all without a murmur.
It seems, for days, you do not move a mote under the stagnate sun. From chest cavity to groin, your body shrinks hollow. Salt-split lips a grim line, climb to the evasive horizon – the Miller. The Miller knows – has wine, food, song to remedy. The Miller will answer. Suddenly, you arrive beneath the broad shade of fan blades. Unharnessed, stagger to the door, already open to you. In the entrance, frail hands shaking, inhale to bark – a greeting, a threat, to beg, weep. A demand? A joke? Heart panicked, a gust catches in your chest, spins you around to the road – see yourself. In small steps, climbing the hill, heavy cart buckled over thin waist. No warmth from the sun, squinting to the peak. The tower ever distant, you do not dare disturb the silence.
First Place – They Sinned Against the Light, Dania Tomlinson
Auntie Molly’s idea of getting some fresh air is smoking cigarettes in the parked car by the lake. The silver willow branches slither against the surface. Dede can’t help but imagine the fabled lake monster out there in the depths of the bottomless lake. During the day, with the motorboats and water-skiers, and the lake slick with tanning oil and rainbows of gasoline, it is easy to forget. But here, at night, the monster is inescapable.
— Your mom saw it once, Molly says, flicking her cigarette. Looked her right in the eye.
— Was she afraid?
— Nearly drowned from fright. Couldn’t hear well out her left ear after that.
The red cherry of Molly’s cigarette swallows the darkness inside the car. It is the only light. Outside fruit bats scallop the moonless sky.
— They say it knows the dark matter of your heart. Can smell sin on you.
Dede’s skin prickles. She sees something in the lake, snaking towards the shore. This morning Dede had whispered into her pillow that she wished her mother would finally just kill herself like she kept threatening to.
— It’s not her fault, you know.
Dede can feel Molly’s eyes heavy on her now. If she turns to face her aunt, she will burst into tears. If she opens her mouth to speak, she will burst into tears. They bubble bright and hot at the insides of her eyes. She bursts.
— Awe, honey. Molly reaches for Dede’s shoulder. It’s just history, you know? Mom had it too.
Darkness in her head. All us women get a slice.
Dede is sure she can see the lake monster now, out past the dock. It spirals in water flecked with unraveling stars. Molly isn’t a crier, and Dede can tell she is uncomfortable with her tears. Molly stubs her cigarette and flicks it outside. She extends her arm into the night.
— It’s warm tonight
She snatches her hand back.
— Did you hear that?
Dede’s eyes remain on the water, the lake monster swirls the night sky.
— That was a bat, Dede says. I could hear its siren. That’s how they see, you know. With their voices. They don’t even need light.
There is a splash and Dede knows it is the lake monster, growing impatient.
— Me and your mom used to go skinny-dipping here when we were your age.
Dede pulls her knees into her chest to still her galloping heart. Molly is already out of the car, stepping out of her shorts. She throws her shirt at the windshield. Her skin gleams in the darkness. As Molly walks along the dock it looks as though she is stepping out into a black abyss.
— Come on, Dede. What are you afraid of?
Dede opens the car door. Her bare feet take her along the dirt to the wharf. They stand at the edge. Molly takes her hand. Together, they jump.
Hoyne Brewing Company and partners present their 2nd annual short fiction contest in honour of James Joyce and Bloomsday. The aim is to provide new writers with a fun opportunity to expose their work, while introducing them to the world of James Joyce’s Ulysses. All proceeds from the contest and event will be donated to Literacy Victoria.
All entrants and volunteers will be invited to the James Joyce Bistro Bloomsday event on June 16th. Shortlisted entrants will be invited to read (or have their work read) after the Ulysses presentation, followed by the awards presentation. The shortlisted entries will be displayed at the event and published in our blog and newsletter. All proceeds from the contest, silent auction and $1 from every Hoyne pint sold at the event will be donated to Literacy Victoria.
1st: Festival pass and one night accommodation to the Sunshine Coast Writers Festival (Total value $500)
2nd: $200 to Russell Books
3rd: Hoyne Brewing Hoodie & $50 gift card redeemable at the James Joyce Bistro
4th: Hoyne swag pack
5th: Hoyne swag pack
Sean Hoyne – Owner, Hoyne Brewing Company
Lee Henderson – Chair, UVic Writing Dept
Susan Reece – Chair, Literacy Victoria
Shayne Avec I Grec – Poet Publisher (Oratorealish)
Devon Tatton – Greater Victoria Library
Vruti Patel – Greater Victoria Library
Partners and Sponsors:
Entry fee: a minimum $5 donation per submission to Literacy Victoria (entrants can submit multiple pieces).
For online submissions:
Step 1. Go to the Literacy Victoria website (http://www.literacyvictoria.org/) to make your donation. Record the donation confirmation number.
Step 2. Email your submission to Hoyne Brewing at firstname.lastname@example.org as a pdf. or doc. and include the donation confirmation number in your email.
For drop off or mailed entries:
All entries must be typed and double spaced on one side of standard 8½ x 11 paper and submitted with a cheque (no cash please) made out to Literacy Victoria and a separate sheet with contact info.
Hoyne Brewing Company, 101-2740 Bridge St. Victoria, BC. V8T 5C5. Mailed entries must be postmarked no later than June 4th.
Hoyne Brewing Company will match all donations.
Word limit: 200 words (entries above the word limitation will be disregarded).
Content: Narrative must take place within 24hrs and include a reference to any 1 Hoyne beer brand name. e.g. Dark Matter, Devil’s Dream, Summer Haze…
Choose one of the following quotes from Ulysses as the inspiration for your story. Please specify which quote you have used at the top of your entry.
Quote 1 If he had smiled why would he have smiled? To reflect that each one who enters imagines himself to be the first to enter whereas he is always the last term of a preceding series even if the first term of a succeeding one, each imagining himself to be first, last, only and alone, whereas he is neither first nor last nor only nor alone in a series originating in and repeated to infinity.
Quote 2 A warm human plumpness settled down on his brain. His brain yielded. Perfume of embraces all him assailed. With hungered flesh obscurely, he mutely craved to adore.
Quote 3 Gob, there’s many a true word spoken in jest. One of those mixed middlings he is. …It’d be an act of God to take hold of a fellow the like of that and throw him in the bloody sea. Justifiable homicide, so it would. Then sloping off with his five quid without putting up a pint of stuff like a man. Give us your blessing. Not as much as would blind your eye.
Must be 19 years or older to enter and a resident of British Columbia. Submissions must include a title, the word count and the quote used. Include your name, age, address, phone number, email address and the title of your piece in the email or on a separate piece of paper – your name should not be on the submission. Judges will be looking for the best interpretation of the quote selected, with special prizes for most humourous and most ‘Joycean’ entries. All entries must be previously unpublished material and not currently under consideration in any other contest or competition. Entries will not be returned.
The deadline for entries is Saturday June 4th @ Midnight
Shortlisted entries will be notified by email on Friday June 10th and the winners announced on June 16th, 2016 at James Joyce Bistro Bloomsday event. For more information, contact Val at email@example.com
This really is an obligatory post: a rant, a pontification, a line in the sand. It’s been a long while that I’ve been collecting these thoughts and values. And finally, I have a place to put them!
Simply put, we believe in fine beer.
We are all done being told by the big business crowd that cold equals good, (I would name names, but don’t want to be hunted down by a silver bullet…oops) or that terms like micro-carbonation and cold–filtered actually mean something. Better yet, if I buy their product I have a chance of finding myself on an airplane surrounded by girls, and on my way to the super-bowl.
Baffle-gab, hog-wash, horse-shit. There, I said it. Let’s just have a great beer, one we can actually taste and enjoy for what it is: a finely crafted, locally made, great-tasting beer.
It seems simple. And here’s the best part: it has been happening for a very long time. Throughout much of the last several thousand years, brewers have been making beer in small batches, and people have been happily enjoying it in close proximity to where it was made. Seems blindingly obvious.
It has only been in the last several decades that we have allowed ourselves to become complacent and let the big guys tell us what is best for us. That is, dumbing the beer down by filling it with refined sugars, chemicals and preservatives, filtering it into anoxeria, and throwing marketing dust in our eyes to mask their bland fizzy swill.
A revolution was needed. A renaissance of the Micro-Brewery. Our proclamation saying we actually prefer taste to gimmickry, we are not afraid of big flavour, we love the taste and aroma of hops, we don’t support the fuzzy logic of transporting beer across the continent, or ocean, and we are here to stay. Get used to it. Get out of the way if you won’t lend a hand.
In the words of Daltry and Townshend, “We won’t be fooled again.”