Summer Short Story Contest! (2012) Winners announced!

by **Norstal** » Sun Jul 15, 2012 12:25 am

Conserative Morality wrote:
Norstal wrote:Short stories are usually 7500 words, so I would say yes.

However, if CM doesn't want to increase the limit to at least 6000 then I would say no.

I've changed it.

I feel a little guilty changing the rules midway through like this.

Might want to announce that in the thread title so that others are aware.

No worries though. I bet everyone is procrastinating. *nods*

by **Krasny-Volny** » Sun Jul 15, 2012 12:36 am

No worries though. I bet everyone is procrastinating. *nods*

I am. Busy juggling two other similar competitions at the moment, one online and one at a local community centre. NS can always be pushed to later, since the deadline's July 30.

Expect a rush of entries July 29, folks. Possibly even most of them.

by **The Ben Boys** » Sun Jul 15, 2012 12:42 am

Could we have stories about our nations? I don't plan on it, but asking out of curiosity.

by **Metanih** » Sun Jul 15, 2012 2:29 am

I started! I got about 20-25% done!

by **Nazi Flower Power** » Sun Jul 15, 2012 12:10 pm

Conserative Morality wrote:
Norstal wrote:Short stories are usually 7500 words, so I would say yes.

However, if CM doesn't want to increase the limit to at least 6000 then I would say no.

I've changed it.

I feel a little guilty changing the rules midway through like this.

Uh, yeah... I'd prefer you had left this alone, but done a contest with a longer word count limit for the fall.

I did go ahead and add a few sentences to clear up one thing in my story that was really not explained properly, so please keep the new word count limit, but next time please don't make changes after people have entered. I cut about 400 words from my story before posting it, and I have no way to get those back.

by **Norstal** » Sun Jul 15, 2012 12:16 pm

The Ben Boys wrote:Could we have stories about our nations? I don't plan on it, but asking out of curiosity.

As long as it's new and original. I would allow prequels or sequels.

by **Norstal** » Sun Jul 15, 2012 12:22 pm

Nazi Flower Power wrote:
Conserative Morality wrote:I've changed it.

I feel a little guilty changing the rules midway through like this.

Uh, yeah... I'd prefer you had left this alone, but done a contest with a longer word count limit for the fall.

I did go ahead and add a few sentences to clear up one thing in my story that was really not explained properly, so please keep the new word count limit, but next time please don't make changes after people have entered. I cut about 400 words from my story before posting it, and I have no way to get those back.

Your opinions are noted and disregarded with impunity.

I think that during the first or second week of announcement, CM should allow suggestions to be made and change the rules accordingly. I only support increasing the word limit because the standard is way higher and it seems unfair to cap it at 5000.

But alright, no more changes to the rules from here on out. What you get is what you got.

by **Nazi Flower Power** » Sun Jul 15, 2012 12:53 pm

Norstal wrote:
Nazi Flower Power wrote:
Uh, yeah... I'd prefer you had left this alone, but done a contest with a longer word count limit for the fall.

I did go ahead and add a few sentences to clear up one thing in my story that was really not explained properly, so please keep the new word count limit, but next time please don't make changes after people have entered. I cut about 400 words from my story before posting it, and I have no way to get those back.

Your opinions are noted and disregarded with impunity.

I think that during the first or second week of announcement, CM should allow suggestions to be made and change the rules accordingly. I only support increasing the word limit because the standard is way higher and it seems unfair to cap it at 5000.

But alright, no more changes to the rules from here on out. What you get is what you got.

This wasn't in the 1st or 2nd week. It was more like a month in.

by **Norstal** » Sun Jul 15, 2012 2:25 pm

Nazi Flower Power wrote:
Norstal wrote:Your opinions are noted and disregarded with impunity.

I think that during the first or second week of announcement, CM should allow suggestions to be made and change the rules accordingly. I only support increasing the word limit because the standard is way higher and it seems unfair to cap it at 5000.

But alright, no more changes to the rules from here on out. What you get is what you got.

This wasn't in the 1st or 2nd week. It was more like a month in.

I'm well aware of that. Hence why I said I only support the change because...

by **Nationstatelandsville** » Sun Jul 15, 2012 2:36 pm

I've complained of it before. I'm surprised CM actually listened.

by **Page** » Sun Jul 15, 2012 4:57 pm

Here is my submission. Yes, it is anachronistic and that is intentional, it shouldn't be too hard to follow and if it is then I hope it contributes to a sense of intrigue.

by **Conserative Morality** » Tue Jul 17, 2012 2:01 am

Thirteen days, and such.

by **Nationstatelandsville** » Tue Jul 17, 2012 6:59 pm

Conserative Morality wrote:Thirteen days, and such.

Getting to it now, CM.

This is either a really good idea or a really bad one. Probably bad, but eh.

by **Page** » Tue Jul 17, 2012 7:02 pm

Nationstatelandsville wrote:This is either a really good idea or a really bad one. Probably bad, but eh.

I had similar thoughts because I often write something thinking it's a stroke of genius and end up hating it a day later.

by **Costa Fiero** » Tue Jul 17, 2012 9:26 pm

Can I write a creative travel story?

by **Conserative Morality** » Tue Jul 17, 2012 9:27 pm

Costa Fiero wrote:Can I write a creative travel story?

I don't see why not.

by **Costa Fiero** » Tue Jul 17, 2012 9:29 pm

Conserative Morality wrote:
Costa Fiero wrote:Can I write a creative travel story?

I don't see why not.

Good. Expect a story about the catacombs in Paris.

by **Havl** » Tue Jul 17, 2012 10:38 pm

I'm interested in reading what others have to write. I'm also curious as to what others will think of this story. I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for your consideration.

by **Nazi Flower Power** » Tue Jul 17, 2012 11:03 pm

Havl wrote:I'm interested in reading what others have to write. I'm also curious as to what others will think of this story. I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for your consideration.

Accounting was one thing Edward Angestelter really understood. It was a completely concrete task. The more he practiced, the better he became. Not like love, or life. The more he loved or lived, the more he wondered if he was really doing it right. At his job, there was one way to do things, one way to accomplish something, and that one way was well documented and always available. Edward succeeded at his job, but he failed at most other things.

It’s not for lack of trying that Edward’s wife left him. Had love been more of an absolute practice, he would have no doubt been as successful a lover as he was an accountant. He didn’t keep books about it, or try to calculate or analyze love as he would an account, but he did try to make his marriage work. He thought about it a lot. While working, he would wonder why life wasn’t as easy as expenditure reports, and why calculating the gross domestic dividends of the Dyerson account was easier than guessing Laura’s mood.

He was always afraid she’d leave him. She’d all but given up on him after their first year of marriage,. and he was sure she was cheating on him, but he brought in steady income and treated her with care, so she stuck around. When the firm let him go, they blamed downsizing and commemorated his ten-plus years of service by letting him keep his company mug. They kept his nametag. Laura was completely moved out within the week.

Edward had an interview the next day, and the next day. For a few months, the daily interviews kept him too occupied to size up the turn his life had made. It wasn’t until the new job opportunities stopped coming that he acted out. He shattered his company mug against the wall and said, “Fuck downsizing,” as he slumped to the ground. It was a Wednesday. Edward was thirty-one years old.

Finding cheap and steady work, he moved back into the city, sharing an apartment with a roommate he rarely saw, reading old school books, trying to find an interest in sports. He thought about Laura, but he never heard from her. He drove past the old firm on his way to work at the bus station.

On a bright January morning, after a midnight shift, he opened a letter from Mr. J. Geber, a man whom Edward had apparently sent an application to some time before. In the letter, Geber congratulated Edward that he had been allotted an interview, told him he was to arrive on time at the mansion outside of the city the next day, and that he should be excited at such a marvelous opportunity. Edward didn’t remember mailing an application to Geber. He was excited.

As he drove to the address the next day, Edward turned on the radio and sang along. He hadn’t done that since he was a child. He found the place without much trouble, and pulled into the driveway through an iron gate that stood open. As he hummed part of the tune from the radio, he rang the doorbell. An attendant opened the door, greeted Edward, and guided him in.

“Mister Geber will be waiting for you up these stairs, Mr. Angestelter.”

“Ah, yes, thank you,” said Edward. He straightened his suit.

The walls of the main parlor were deep red with intricate patterns, and Edward recognized the scent of papaya.. He dusted his feet and followed the stairs up to a foyer. A gold etching outside of a door indicated the office. Edward knocked on the open door. A seated man wheeled around behind an intricate wooden desk. Edward remarked to himself that the desk was twice as large as his had been at Smith-Jones.

“Mr. Angestelter, come in. I’m Joshua Geber. I’m pleased to meet you.”

“It’s an honor, Mr. Geber,” said Edward.

Geber motioned towards the chairs in front of the desk, and Edward sat.

“I hope you don’t mind if I call you Ed, because I’m going to,” said Geber. “What I run here is a delicate business that creates a lot of paperwork and a lot of problems for my accounting staff, and your firm told me you’re top notch.”

Edward smiled and politely nodded.

“You’re hired, Ed,” said Geber, “and you’re going to need to pay attention. I’ve read up about you, your school records, your ten-plus years at the firm. You’re good, and I’d like to have you on the team. Now, you’re wondering what we do here, and that’s good, but it’s not important. We run a business the same as any company, and you’ll find that it’s much the same as your work at the firm. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” said Edward.

“Good. We’re completely self-operating, which is why I need my own accountants. I need to trust you. You’ll be paid forty-nine hundred a week. You need to be here most of the day, and you’ll keep all of your equipment and everything you need here at your office. Clear?”

“Yes. Clear,” said Edward.

Just then, Edward felt the air in the room change. It felt as if the atmosphere had picked up, that the air had lifted and taken gravity with it. Edward turned slowly to watch a tall, blonde woman enter the room at half speed. She took her time to cross the room, walking from the door to the desk. She didn’t carry herself with the weightlessness that Edward felt, but instead seemed to drag through heavy air. Each footstep she planted with determination, and yet she seemed to be pulled across the room like a delicate marionette. Her flowing black dress flapped as she moved and outlined her pregnant stomach.

Geber continued to speak, but Edward heard nothing of it. He was mesmerized, and as she left the room, the weight of the atmosphere fell back on him in one big drop.

“…and these documents are extremely important. That was my wife,” Geber said. “She’s pregnant. Don’t pay her too much attention.”

Edward nodded, though his mind was far from thoughts of what Geber had in mind for him. His mouth felt dry.

“As I was saying, Ed, I need to trust you,” said Geber. “I need to see that I can trust you.”

“You can trust me,” said Edward. “Especially with your account.”

“I need to trust you completely, aside from the account. I need to know you can be everything we need you to be. I need to know you will do what’s needed to be done.”

Edward cautiously nodded.

“You need to be able to do this work for this money without knowing why. You need to be able to feel like part of this company without feeling the need to ask questions. You need to be able to trust yourself when things get complicated.”

Edward shifted in his seat. He was focused on Geber, who was making eye contact for the first time.

“You need to be able to commit a crime.”

“I can be what you need,” said Edward. “I mean, I can be trusted. Account work is what I do, there’s no question there.”

“I need more than that,” said Geber.

His eyes were fixed on Edward.

“You are part of a team here that I know I can trust, and I need you to understand that.”

Geber moved in his chair, and Edward could see that he was in a wheelchair.

“Ed, I need you to stand up and put this on.”

He handed him a rubber Halloween mask of a wild boar. Edward stood and hesitated.

“Put on that mask,” said Geber. “You’re going to show me I can trust you”

The two moved into the hallway, where Edward put on the mask.

“These three doors represent what I will be needing from you,” said Geber.

He handed Edward a pistol. Its heft surprised him.

“I need to know that you can commit any act for me,” said Geber. “A crime, an act of violence, or an act of self-restraint. And you need to know what I’m calling for each time.”

He motioned Edward toward the doors.

“Go to the doors. Show me I can trust you.”

Edward moved to the first door on the left. He could hardly see out of the mask. He opened the door and entered the dimly lit room. On the left, he could see a steel desk covered with papers beside file cabinets. At the far end of the room was a projector screen showing various targets, like a shooting range. He moved out of the room. Geber watched him closely.

Edward moved closer to the next door, but he heard something in the third door. He pressed his ear against the wood. Singing and running water. Cautiously, he opened the door. Inside, he saw a bathroom, large and open with white tiles, muted light pouring in through two opaque windows, and a four-footed claw bathtub in the middle of the room. He moved further inward.

Geber’s wife was bathing in the tub, her large belly sticking up from the water, her legs hanging out from one end. One arm supported her head. The other was unseen under the water. She was softly humming the song from the radio, and the room smelled like papaya. Geber dropped the gun, which fell silently on the thick carpet by the sink. Edward was enchanted. Geber watched from the hall.

Edward moved gradually toward the tub. It was as if she couldn’t see him as she continued to bathe, relaxed. Edward moved closer still, circling the tub. He peered at her. He paused by her side at the tub, and then knelt close. His arms reached in around her in an embrace, and she fell limp. He picked her up and pulled her flaccidly out of the tub. She languidly rose in a black bathing suit that clung to her wet skin. She did not look at him.

He didn’t know what to do. He pulled at the mask as the strange nature of the entire occasion struck him. She wandered off out of the bathroom, taking the scent of papaya and the warm glow from the windows with her. Edward stood wet and confused and dropped the mask.

“I can trust you, my friend,” said Geber. “Come, let’s talk about business.”

Edward labored out of the bathroom, dripping in his good suit. His foot knocked the pistol into a corner. His mind raced, and his body was exhausted. He tried not to make things make sense in his mind. He followed Geber to a small elevator at the end of the hall.

The mirror-lined elevator walls reflected Edward’s white and sagged face. He looked equally confused and fatigued.

“I’m really not sure about any of this,” he said. “I don’t even know what’s going on.”

Geber smiled as they reached the ground floor.

“I told you, Ed. You don’t need to understand. You don’t need to know. You just need to do what’s necessary.”

Geber showed Edward to the front door, and thanked him for his time. Reminding him to show up on Monday at seven sharp, he smiled an unnerving smile and closed the large, ornate door.

Ed climbed into his car and navigated through the mossy road to the open iron gate. Although he had just been hired, had been complemented on his accounting abilities and been offered a salary larger than he had ever imagined, he didn’t turn on the radio. He didn’t sing along, and didn’t hum as he opened his front door. He went inside, lit the papaya candle and drifted to sleep.

The last names are a bit obvious, but if they're meant to be obvious, then hey, whatever floats your boat. I do take you seriously as competition.

A lot of writers in here -- not just in this thread, but in A&F generally -- are just trying to do things that are far beyond their abilities; but it looks like you more or less had the story under control and got it to do what it was supposed to do.

by **Forsher** » Tue Jul 17, 2012 11:16 pm

Nazi Flower Power wrote:
Havl wrote:I'm interested in reading what others have to write. I'm also curious as to what others will think of this story. I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for your consideration.

Accounting was one thing Edward Angestelter really understood. It was a completely concrete task. The more he practiced, the better he became. Not like love, or life. The more he loved or lived, the more he wondered if he was really doing it right. At his job, there was one way to do things, one way to accomplish something, and that one way was well documented and always available. Edward succeeded at his job, but he failed at most other things.

It’s not for lack of trying that Edward’s wife left him. Had love been more of an absolute practice, he would have no doubt been as successful a lover as he was an accountant. He didn’t keep books about it, or try to calculate or analyze love as he would an account, but he did try to make his marriage work. He thought about it a lot. While working, he would wonder why life wasn’t as easy as expenditure reports, and why calculating the gross domestic dividends of the Dyerson account was easier than guessing Laura’s mood.

He was always afraid she’d leave him. She’d all but given up on him after their first year of marriage,. and he was sure she was cheating on him, but he brought in steady income and treated her with care, so she stuck around. When the firm let him go, they blamed downsizing and commemorated his ten-plus years of service by letting him keep his company mug. They kept his nametag. Laura was completely moved out within the week.

Edward had an interview the next day, and the next day. For a few months, the daily interviews kept him too occupied to size up the turn his life had made. It wasn’t until the new job opportunities stopped coming that he acted out. He shattered his company mug against the wall and said, “Fuck downsizing,” as he slumped to the ground. It was a Wednesday. Edward was thirty-one years old.

Finding cheap and steady work, he moved back into the city, sharing an apartment with a roommate he rarely saw, reading old school books, trying to find an interest in sports. He thought about Laura, but he never heard from her. He drove past the old firm on his way to work at the bus station.

On a bright January morning, after a midnight shift, he opened a letter from Mr. J. Geber, a man whom Edward had apparently sent an application to some time before. In the letter, Geber congratulated Edward that he had been allotted an interview, told him he was to arrive on time at the mansion outside of the city the next day, and that he should be excited at such a marvelous opportunity. Edward didn’t remember mailing an application to Geber. He was excited.

As he drove to the address the next day, Edward turned on the radio and sang along. He hadn’t done that since he was a child. He found the place without much trouble, and pulled into the driveway through an iron gate that stood open. As he hummed part of the tune from the radio, he rang the doorbell. An attendant opened the door, greeted Edward, and guided him in.

“Mister Geber will be waiting for you up these stairs, Mr. Angestelter.”

“Ah, yes, thank you,” said Edward. He straightened his suit.

The walls of the main parlor were deep red with intricate patterns, and Edward recognized the scent of papaya.. He dusted his feet and followed the stairs up to a foyer. A gold etching outside of a door indicated the office. Edward knocked on the open door. A seated man wheeled around behind an intricate wooden desk. Edward remarked to himself that the desk was twice as large as his had been at Smith-Jones.

“Mr. Angestelter, come in. I’m Joshua Geber. I’m pleased to meet you.”

“It’s an honor, Mr. Geber,” said Edward.

Geber motioned towards the chairs in front of the desk, and Edward sat.

“I hope you don’t mind if I call you Ed, because I’m going to,” said Geber. “What I run here is a delicate business that creates a lot of paperwork and a lot of problems for my accounting staff, and your firm told me you’re top notch.”

Edward smiled and politely nodded.

“You’re hired, Ed,” said Geber, “and you’re going to need to pay attention. I’ve read up about you, your school records, your ten-plus years at the firm. You’re good, and I’d like to have you on the team. Now, you’re wondering what we do here, and that’s good, but it’s not important. We run a business the same as any company, and you’ll find that it’s much the same as your work at the firm. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” said Edward.

“Good. We’re completely self-operating, which is why I need my own accountants. I need to trust you. You’ll be paid forty-nine hundred a week. You need to be here most of the day, and you’ll keep all of your equipment and everything you need here at your office. Clear?”

“Yes. Clear,” said Edward.

Just then, Edward felt the air in the room change. It felt as if the atmosphere had picked up, that the air had lifted and taken gravity with it. Edward turned slowly to watch a tall, blonde woman enter the room at half speed. She took her time to cross the room, walking from the door to the desk. She didn’t carry herself with the weightlessness that Edward felt, but instead seemed to drag through heavy air. Each footstep she planted with determination, and yet she seemed to be pulled across the room like a delicate marionette. Her flowing black dress flapped as she moved and outlined her pregnant stomach.

Geber continued to speak, but Edward heard nothing of it. He was mesmerized, and as she left the room, the weight of the atmosphere fell back on him in one big drop.

“…and these documents are extremely important. That was my wife,” Geber said. “She’s pregnant. Don’t pay her too much attention.”

Edward nodded, though his mind was far from thoughts of what Geber had in mind for him. His mouth felt dry.

“As I was saying, Ed, I need to trust you,” said Geber. “I need to see that I can trust you.”

“You can trust me,” said Edward. “Especially with your account.”

“I need to trust you completely, aside from the account. I need to know you can be everything we need you to be. I need to know you will do what’s needed to be done.”

Edward cautiously nodded.

“You need to be able to do this work for this money without knowing why. You need to be able to feel like part of this company without feeling the need to ask questions. You need to be able to trust yourself when things get complicated.”

Edward shifted in his seat. He was focused on Geber, who was making eye contact for the first time.

“You need to be able to commit a crime.”

“I can be what you need,” said Edward. “I mean, I can be trusted. Account work is what I do, there’s no question there.”

“I need more than that,” said Geber.

His eyes were fixed on Edward.

“You are part of a team here that I know I can trust, and I need you to understand that.”

Geber moved in his chair, and Edward could see that he was in a wheelchair.

“Ed, I need you to stand up and put this on.”

He handed him a rubber Halloween mask of a wild boar. Edward stood and hesitated.

“Put on that mask,” said Geber. “You’re going to show me I can trust you”

The two moved into the hallway, where Edward put on the mask.

“These three doors represent what I will be needing from you,” said Geber.

He handed Edward a pistol. Its heft surprised him.

“I need to know that you can commit any act for me,” said Geber. “A crime, an act of violence, or an act of self-restraint. And you need to know what I’m calling for each time.”

He motioned Edward toward the doors.

“Go to the doors. Show me I can trust you.”

Edward moved to the first door on the left. He could hardly see out of the mask. He opened the door and entered the dimly lit room. On the left, he could see a steel desk covered with papers beside file cabinets. At the far end of the room was a projector screen showing various targets, like a shooting range. He moved out of the room. Geber watched him closely.

Edward moved closer to the next door, but he heard something in the third door. He pressed his ear against the wood. Singing and running water. Cautiously, he opened the door. Inside, he saw a bathroom, large and open with white tiles, muted light pouring in through two opaque windows, and a four-footed claw bathtub in the middle of the room. He moved further inward.

Geber’s wife was bathing in the tub, her large belly sticking up from the water, her legs hanging out from one end. One arm supported her head. The other was unseen under the water. She was softly humming the song from the radio, and the room smelled like papaya. Geber dropped the gun, which fell silently on the thick carpet by the sink. Edward was enchanted. Geber watched from the hall.

Edward moved gradually toward the tub. It was as if she couldn’t see him as she continued to bathe, relaxed. Edward moved closer still, circling the tub. He peered at her. He paused by her side at the tub, and then knelt close. His arms reached in around her in an embrace, and she fell limp. He picked her up and pulled her flaccidly out of the tub. She languidly rose in a black bathing suit that clung to her wet skin. She did not look at him.

He didn’t know what to do. He pulled at the mask as the strange nature of the entire occasion struck him. She wandered off out of the bathroom, taking the scent of papaya and the warm glow from the windows with her. Edward stood wet and confused and dropped the mask.

“I can trust you, my friend,” said Geber. “Come, let’s talk about business.”

Edward labored out of the bathroom, dripping in his good suit. His foot knocked the pistol into a corner. His mind raced, and his body was exhausted. He tried not to make things make sense in his mind. He followed Geber to a small elevator at the end of the hall.

The mirror-lined elevator walls reflected Edward’s white and sagged face. He looked equally confused and fatigued.

“I’m really not sure about any of this,” he said. “I don’t even know what’s going on.”

Geber smiled as they reached the ground floor.

“I told you, Ed. You don’t need to understand. You don’t need to know. You just need to do what’s necessary.”

Geber showed Edward to the front door, and thanked him for his time. Reminding him to show up on Monday at seven sharp, he smiled an unnerving smile and closed the large, ornate door.

Ed climbed into his car and navigated through the mossy road to the open iron gate. Although he had just been hired, had been complemented on his accounting abilities and been offered a salary larger than he had ever imagined, he didn’t turn on the radio. He didn’t sing along, and didn’t hum as he opened his front door. He went inside, lit the papaya candle and drifted to sleep.

The last names are a bit obvious, but if they're meant to be obvious, then hey, whatever floats your boat. I do take you seriously as competition.

A lot of writers in here -- not just in this thread, but in A&F generally -- are just trying to do things that are far beyond their abilities; but it looks like you more or less had the story under control and got it to do what it was supposed to do.

Tell me, am I in the story I added here?

by **Nazi Flower Power** » Wed Jul 18, 2012 12:22 am

Forsher wrote:
Nazi Flower Power wrote:
The last names are a bit obvious, but if they're meant to be obvious, then hey, whatever floats your boat. I do take you seriously as competition.

A lot of writers in here -- not just in this thread, but in A&F generally -- are just trying to do things that are far beyond their abilities; but it looks like you more or less had the story under control and got it to do what it was supposed to do.

Tell me, am I in the story I added here?

Maybe a little. The ridiculous prose does look like it was a deliberate stylistic choice, but I am not sure you got exactly the effect you were going for.

I've been reading the "Writing Discussion" thread where there are a lot of first chapters of novels that people are working on, and most of those novels will never get written; or if they do get written they won't be any good.

Last.fm · by **Cosumar** » Wed Jul 18, 2012 12:32 am

Thinking about entering. I have a story I've been working on for awhile that has about 1,600 right now. If I finish it in time for this, I'll edit it in here.

by **Forsher** » Wed Jul 18, 2012 12:35 am

Nazi Flower Power wrote:
Forsher wrote:
Tell me, am I in the story I added here?

Maybe a little. The ridiculous prose does look like it was a deliberate stylistic choice, but I am not sure you got exactly the effect you were going for.

I've been reading the "Writing Discussion" thread where there are a lot of first chapters of novels that people are working on, and most of those novels will never get written; or if they do get written they won't be any good.

I tend to write first pages or paragraph. The only things I finish are originally for school (like this story and the one for the other one of these I was in) or my nonsense poems.

by **Nazi Flower Power** » Wed Jul 18, 2012 1:01 am

Forsher wrote:
Nazi Flower Power wrote:
Maybe a little. The ridiculous prose does look like it was a deliberate stylistic choice, but I am not sure you got exactly the effect you were going for.

I've been reading the "Writing Discussion" thread where there are a lot of first chapters of novels that people are working on, and most of those novels will never get written; or if they do get written they won't be any good.

I tend to write first pages or paragraph. The only things I finish are originally for school (like this story and the one for the other one of these I was in) or my nonsense poems.

I tend to start things and not finish them as well. I've been known to get as far as 100 pages in, and then lose track of what I was writing or just realize that the story sucks and give up on it. Usually it's more like 2 pages.

The only reason I managed to finish a story for this contest was because I am between jobs. It's really difficult to give writing the time it deserves when I also have to work 8 hrs a day and sleep 8 hrs a night.

I actually wrote a sequel to the story I entered here. The sequel has better development of the setting and more backstory, but a less interesting plot.

by **Havl** » Wed Jul 18, 2012 8:37 am

Nazi Flower Power wrote:I actually wrote a sequel to the story I entered here. The sequel has better development of the setting and more backstory, but a less interesting plot.

Post the sequel at some point. I just finished your story, and I feel like the end would make for a good beginning. By the way, what's the title of your story?

Summer Short Story Contest! (2012) Winners announced!

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