Writing is one of my hobbies. I am not going to rely of my first novel (whenever that is done) to go super platinum and thus allow me to retire in comfort.
No, I write for fun. I keep writing because I want to see what is going to happen next.
Nearly all of my writing is done on a website called www.writing.com. If you like to read or write, I recommend you check it out.
I tend to enter a lot of writing contests on this site. Some are daily, others happen every so often. There is this one contest called "15 for 15." This contest is limited to 50 entrants and takes place about every 9 months. Here is how it works. A prompt is posted. In this case, the prompt is a picture. You can look at the picture and think about it all you want, but when it comes to writing your story, you only have 15 minutes. It's sort of an honor system. This contest goes on for 15 days in a row. Every day, the top five stories get points. The one with the most points at the end of the 15 days is the winner.
Anyway, you would be amazed at the quality of some of these stories. As you might expect, they are all very short, less than a page long. I am posting 3 of the prompts in this blog. What I recommend you do, is look at the prompt and try to think what you would write about. Immediately after each prompt, I am putting one of the opening lines to a story written for that prompt in the contest. I love these lines.
Here we go:
“And who is your master?”
The statue turned in anger and thrust its arm toward Bennett. “You are...” it hissed .
The statue turned in anger and thrust its arm toward Bennett. “You are...” it hissed .
Is that a great line or what?
Here is the second picture:
The opening lines (by Winchester Jones of Writing.com) are:
So Carl says to me, you want to go hiking naked to the top of Western Ridge?
I say, You better believe I do!
I say, You better believe I do!
I thought that was hilarious.
Here is one more...
The opening line (by W.D.Wilcox of Writing.com) is:
This is the last time I ever book cheap cruise tickets again, Sunuli thought.
This was my favorite line of the contest.
Now, just for fun, here is the story I wrote for the Boat prompt.
I don’t even notice the cameras any more.
It’s been seven days. Seven days since this nightmare started. If I weren’t such a coward, it would be over for me by now. But I’m afraid and I can’t help it. I don’t want to die.
Every day, no – every hour, living loses some of its appeal. The time will come when death becomes the preferred path. But for now, I will do what I have to in order to live one more minute.
I don’t even notice the cameras any more.
When we first put out to sea, they were everywhere. Even some of us had them mounted on our heads. Reality TV was better when it felt real. The audience needed to see the struggle. They wanted to be in on the alliances and the betrayals. Ratings were fed by conflicts and resolutions; winners and losers.
There are five of us left that are still conscious. Most starved to death. Some were killed. A few just slipped over the side and drifted away without saying a word. I would watch and not lift a finger to help.
One less person between me and the prize.
We started with one hundred and now there are five. We sit staring at each other, afraid to sleep because we know we will never be allowed to wake up. We don’t talk. We just sit and wait for the others to die.
A producer came by this morning. His boat pulled up alongside. Using a bull horn, he told us the first one of us to “go cannibal” would be given a loaf of bread and a gallon of water.
So far, there have been no takers.
But we’re thinking about it. I know I am.
Finally, I get to my feet and walk over to one of the dead. As I pick up an arm, I envision a TV ratings spike like no other.
“Thelma, come here! He’s going to do it!”
In disgust, I drop the arm and walk over to the side of the boat. I lower myself gently into the cool water and push away. As I drift off, no one lifts a finger to help.
And I am no longer afraid.
It’s been seven days. Seven days since this nightmare started. If I weren’t such a coward, it would be over for me by now. But I’m afraid and I can’t help it. I don’t want to die.
Every day, no – every hour, living loses some of its appeal. The time will come when death becomes the preferred path. But for now, I will do what I have to in order to live one more minute.
I don’t even notice the cameras any more.
When we first put out to sea, they were everywhere. Even some of us had them mounted on our heads. Reality TV was better when it felt real. The audience needed to see the struggle. They wanted to be in on the alliances and the betrayals. Ratings were fed by conflicts and resolutions; winners and losers.
There are five of us left that are still conscious. Most starved to death. Some were killed. A few just slipped over the side and drifted away without saying a word. I would watch and not lift a finger to help.
One less person between me and the prize.
We started with one hundred and now there are five. We sit staring at each other, afraid to sleep because we know we will never be allowed to wake up. We don’t talk. We just sit and wait for the others to die.
A producer came by this morning. His boat pulled up alongside. Using a bull horn, he told us the first one of us to “go cannibal” would be given a loaf of bread and a gallon of water.
So far, there have been no takers.
But we’re thinking about it. I know I am.
Finally, I get to my feet and walk over to one of the dead. As I pick up an arm, I envision a TV ratings spike like no other.
“Thelma, come here! He’s going to do it!”
In disgust, I drop the arm and walk over to the side of the boat. I lower myself gently into the cool water and push away. As I drift off, no one lifts a finger to help.
And I am no longer afraid.
If you want to see more of the prompts and stories for this contest, go to the following link:
http://www.writing.com/main/forums/item_id/994771-15-for-15-Contest---Round-9-Winners
