posted
I have decided, without any evidence at all, to assume that the judges decided the same person shouldn't win both prizes so did not award the judges' prize to me.
posted
Chris, that actually makes a lot of sense- especially since none of the top 5 reader picks were the judges pick.
Posts: 2223 | Registered: Mar 2008
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posted
So, checked on the next contest that I won an entry into, and it's a bit different. It works on a points system.
Once again I'll be in one of several writer groups. Starting this Friday night, we'll be given a location, an item, and a genre, and we'll have 2 days to write a 1,000 word short story.
The judges will read them all, put them in order of preference and award points for our placement (#1 gets 25, #2 gets 22, etc). We do it again in July. Our points get added together, and the top 10 writers in each group move on to the next round.
We get reassigned to new groups, write again in August, and the top ten from each group gets points but only five writers from each group move to the next round, based on the top three stories along with the next two highest point-total writers.
The last round is in September, all the writers left get a location, an object that must be in the story, and a genre. The judges choose the best 15, points get assigned, and then a variety of prizes get awarded to the top writers and the top points-holders.
Got all that? Me, neither. I plan to just write whenever they tell me to and see what happens.
No popular vote this time, so I'll have to coast on my ability and my almost unnatural good looks. But I shall keep you posted.
Posts: 7790 | Registered: Aug 2000
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Genre: Suspense Location: Indoor swimming pool Item that must be featured: piggy bank Words: 993
====================
He heard the terrible crashing sound, and the screams, and the rapidly approaching clatter.
Nestled deep in the darkness, the old stagecoach breathed a deep sigh and waited for the inevitable, which arrived moments later in a sudden slice of harsh white light.
“C-coach?” came the voice, sweet, high and shaking.
“Go away.”
The pig pushed her way into the closet and past the luggage to find him. “Coach! You have to help us!” She spun around to look behind her, making a noise like… there is no noise quite like a full piggy bank. She sloshed, metallically.
“It’s Christmas time, this is what happens,” he grumbled, and began to roll backwards to hide behind the shoes. “I’d advise closing your eyes. It’ll be over faster.”
posted
With my first story, I placed 5th in a group of 15. Now to see if I can bring that up a bit. The second challenge of round one was last weekend, and here's what I posted:
Genre: Fantasy | Location: Travel Agency | Object that must be featured: Lobster
"A lobster? An actual crawling around, dunk it in butter lobster?"
"It’s what we have available right now in your price range, sir. Lobster, beetle, or vulture. Live your dream, sir."
"What kind of beetle?"
"Dung."
Parkleman sighed and slumped in the chair. "I’m in accounting," he muttered, looking around the travel agency. "Dealing with balls of crap ten times my size is precisely what I’m trying to get away from."
The sign over the door read "TRANSMOGRIVACATIONS, INC." and in smaller script underneath: "BE ALL SOMETHING ELSE CAN BE." There was an enchanted logo next to it depicting a cartoon man changing into a lion, a dolphin, an eagle, and then a man again, over and over. Parkleman stared at it for a long moment.
"You can really change me into anything I want to be?" he asked again.
posted
You got me, sir. I didn't anticipate the ending. I actually found it to be quite fitting. Very nice.
Posts: 2283 | Registered: Dec 2003
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posted
And here's the next entry. This time my restrictions were Genre: Romantic comedy, Place: arcade, and Item: coffee pot. Here's what I thunk up:
"The Final Score"
Being a coffee shop barista, even an emergency temp one, was everything Aly thought it would be. "Here you are sir, have a nice day, die in a fire," she muttered before turning to her mother, who was filling the large catering pot. "How do you keep from murdering your customers?"
"That gets you talked about," her mother said. "Try making terrifying designs in their latte cream instead, that always cheers me up."
Aly sighed. Helping out her mom was one thing, but she couldn’t take being back in this town for long. At least she didn’t have to go near—-
"You know where Electricland Arcade is, right?" her mother asked suddenly. "I need you to run a delivery… Aly? Why are you hitting your head?"
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