Posts Tagged ‘Writing’

And here's my first entry into the 2009 Creative Writing Championship short story contest. Each group of writers was given a genre, a location that must be integral, an item that must be featured, 1,000 words to do it in, and 48 hours to write it. My group received "Suspense / indoor swimming pool / piggy bank." Fair enough…

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Put Not Your Trust in Banks

by C. A. Bridges

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.”

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I won the audience award! You like me! (sniff) You were shamed, guilted, and/or pressured into admitting you really like me!

Thanks, everyone, for voting for me.

Didn't get the judges' prize but I did get into the top ten, which means I also won entry into NYCMidnight's 2009 Creative Writing Contest, which starts this Friday night. Forget Father's Day, kids, daddy has to get his write on.

The new contest is a bit different, and only slightly less complicated than a March Madness betting chart made with a Spirograph. 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 that must be featured, an item that must be included, and a specific 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 get more locations, items, and genres and we write another 1,000 word story 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, do it all over 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. More details here.

Got all that? Me, neither. I plan to just write whenever they tell me to and see what happens. The prizes are decent, the challenge is a fun one, we get critiques on everything we write, and we get our own forum to tear each other apart help each other out.

I'll keep you posted, whether you like it or not, and continue posting my stories here. So, heads up.

Remember NYCMidnight's "Tweet Me a Story" contest? Hundreds of writers wrote stories of 140 characters or less, using a supplied word? And then some of the writers made it to the final round, and we all got the same word? And I posted my entries here?

One of them made the top 25, chosen by NYCMidnight's judges, and now the final vote begins. So I'm shamelessly asking for votes.

Head to http://www.nycmidnight.com/2009/tweet/tweet.htm and vote for me (if you feel my story deserves it, of course). You can also vote for any other of the entries you like. No registration required, no e-mail, nothing. Mine's the 4th one down:

"Aren't you skydiving?" "Yup." "You're calling from midair? That's sweet!" "I love you…" he said, watching the tear in the fabric spread. CREATED BY Chris Bridges

Voting ends Wednesday, 9pm EST. Thanks!

So, I made the final round of NYCMidnight's "Tweet Me a Story" contest. So, the remaining writers all got the same word last night to use in our 140-character stories. So, the word was "tear."

Here's what I submitted, with titles added afterward for fun:

Last Call

"Aren't you skydiving?"

"Yup."

"You're calling from midair? That's sweet!"

"I love you…" he said, watching the tear in the fabric spread.

Father Knows Best

"But I loved him, daddy!"

"Wipe that tear away, honey. Other boys will respect you more."

"How do you know?"

"Because they'll see his body."

Anything for You

"You said you were too happy to write tear jerking songs?"

"Yeah?"

"I just stole your truck to go sleep with your sister."

"Oh, I love you!"

Interestingly, all of them are about love, one way or another. Noticed that after I submitted them. Here's what I didn't submit, and why.

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So NYCMidnight.com is holding a contest for writers to craft Twitter-sized stories of 140 characters or less, which must include a supplied word.

So all of the entrants were split into 20 groups, with a different word for each group, and we all wrote (my word was "heaven").

So the first round now has been judged, and the best 15 stories of each group have been chosen, and now everyone gets to vote on their favorites out of each group.

And of the 15 chosen in my group, 2 of them are mine.

And now it's time for you to vote. I'd appreciate it if you voted for mine (although there are some excellent competitors there). You can even vote for both of mine, if you've a mind to.

Go to the first round page and click on Group 1. Mine are the top two stories in the list, the ones by Chris Bridges. Vote!

Voting goes on till next Monday night. The writers of the 5 top stories of each group will go on to the finals, and I'd sure like to be there. I hear it's nice. Thanks!

The first round of the "Tweet me a Story" writing contest from NYCmidnight was last night. Entrants were assigned a word at 7 p.m. and had 5 hours to come up with up to 3 stories, under 140 characters each, including that word in proper usage.

My group got the word "HEAVEN." Here's what I submitted (titles added for fun afterward, not included in submission):

SUBMISSION #1: "Watching the Fur Fly""

"I don't think 'All Dogs Go to Heaven' was a suggestion, Bill."
"Just keep feeding me cartridges," Bill said. "This is gonna take a while."

SUBMISSION #2: "Sacrificial Yammering"

"What do you mean I can't come in," he said. "I gave up everything to get to heaven."
"Exactly," said St. Peter. "You're too boring now."

SUBMISSION #3: "Afterlife Is a Bitch, and Then You're Dead"

Listen: Sometimes Heaven and Hell swap, as a lesson to the saved and damned souls alike.
Where will you go if you die tonight? Depends…

Granted, they're more like scenes than actual beginning-middle-resolution stories, but those are a pain to cram into a tiny box.

On June 1st, 15 winning stories from each group get posted for online voting, and the winners progress to round two. I expect slavish, devoted voting for me from all of you.

Missed this when it came out, but some time back the folks at the SAMBA blog decided to see how tough it was to come up with new ideas for products or businesses, and offered them free to anyone who wants them. It's worth skimming through just for the laughs or the "huh, why hasn't somebody…" realizations. Some of the suggestions already exist in one form or another (which could be why one suggestion is for a service to tell you if your idea has been done; I smell some desperation there) but some are just inspired.

A church-issued credit card that automatically deducts your tithe? Movie theaters that display televised sports events on a 70-foot screen? A cellphone with a USB memory stick built in? In-grocery-store food prep that would chop your veggies while you shop? The notion of creating a portable drive-in theater with two semis (one to be the screen, the other to be ticket sales and concession) to go around showing independent movies appeals to me. And I would go for this one: "Rent a llama or goat to eat your front yard."

A few display the thinker's personal pet peeves, such as "A self cleaning microphone that never smells like breath or beer." At least one contributor seems fascinated by the concept of having your stuff — cell phones, TVs, computers — smashed and returned to you as art, although I can't tell if it's from a love of art or hatred of electronics. Many of them are just suggestions for services that the suggester wants, like public nap stations and professional obituary writing and people to deliver the single 3/8" nut you need for your repair job to your house. And some are just silly, such as "A place where you can go and pop bubble wrap. Possibly a bar of some sort."

Of course, now that I said that someone will open a chain of "Popper's" restaurants and make a fortune.

Some suggestions are illustrative of how the social interactions of the Web have changed how we think of things, such as the one that suggest a Web site that, for every product you buy, ships a mystery product to a friend for the cost of shipping and handling. Improve the economy and bewilder your friends! Win!

And some are just wrong, such as Nicocream, the nicotine ice cream. "Comfort food that helps you quit smoking (or addicts you to ice cream)."

But this one? "An application that you have your friends fill out that will compare against your answers and give you a compatibility score. In addition, tips about their personality." Totally exists. It's called "Facebook."

Next time you get a free hour or five, check out "Hamster Burial Kits & 998 Other Business Ideas" from SAMBA. If ideas are a dime a dozen, here's $8.35 worth to get you started.

Want to read some quick fiction?

It doesn't get quicker than what you'll find at Thaumatrope , the first zine I've seen published through Twitter.  I'm assuming you know what Twitter is, of course.  Social text messaging service where messages are limited to a dumbphone's text message limit of 140 characters.

And yes, you can deliver complete stories in that amazingly limited amount of space. Earnest Hemingway once famously wrote one in six words: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” And Wired asked lots of writers for their six-word creations last year. It can be done, and it's a cool idea.

Thaumatrope bills itself as "a magazine for Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror fiction".  So far it features reviews of books and games, intensely short fiction, ongoing tweets from the future, and even an interview with author John Scalzi ("Why?" "There is no why. Causality is for amateurs.") And the part that amuses the hell out of me is this: they pay for fiction. 5 cents a word, average for the market. Actually they pay a flat $1.20 per accepted story.

I love stuff like this. If you recall I made the cover of The Writer for their feature on shortingly-short fiction. It's challenging and fun and maddening. So you'll be seeing my tiny byline there a few times over the next year, until they make me stop.

Back to funny fantasy. Since I had just gotten into collecting autographs myself, it seemed like a natural thing to give my protagonist my obsession. He was also a sniveling, selfish jerk, but obviously that part was all made up. Ahem. Attempting to liven up his life a little, he clicked on a joke eBay auction only to find it wasn't a joke.

It wasn't a novel, either, but it may be someday. Didn't hit 50k this year, either. I'm slipping. Note the Hiatus references…

The Highest Bidder
by C. A. Bridges

Chapter One – Cons and Pros and Cons

Bought: Kevin Sutton (2); Mark Goddard (1); Erin Gray (2); Playboy Playmate Miss November 2008 Grace Kim (1); George Lowe, voice of Space Ghost (1)

Morton would never have bought the souls in the first place if it hadn't been for the girl with the Captain Crunch box.

As far as Morton Sezlick was concerned, science fiction conventions existed for one reason and one reason only: commerce. You went, you sold, you bought, you moved on. There was a great deal of money to be made if you knew what you were doing, which he did, which was why every minute stuck in this half-mile autograph line that was not moving was driving him crazy with the lingering scent of lost revenue. Almost as maddening as the way the thousands of people currently crowding his space just went around mindlessly having fun all the time in their elaborate costumes of Jedis and Klingons and Browncoats and whatever the hell those big square brown things were with all the teeth. How could anyone enjoy this if they weren't paid to do so?

Despite the best efforts of dedicated fans, convention halls simply were not conducive to the creation of magical science-fantasy worlds. From where Morton stood he could see sad-looking paper-mache emulations of planets and rocket ships, a Mark I Viper made of slightly sagging cardboard, lots of poly-vinyl banners strung from the ceiling, and rows and rows of PVC-and-blue-cloth dividers divvying up the dealers' tables and artist alley booths. It might have helped if the con people could have controlled the environment and only let you you see what they wanted you to see, like a JayCees' haunted house or something, but none of the decorations rose higher than about 10 feet and above that the bland, institutional yellow of the walls stretched for another 20 more before the ductwork and pipes of the ceiling added the capping, fantasy-killing touch. Guests of the con, actors from popular science fiction shows and movies both past and present – the only reason to show up, as far as Morton was concerned – sat against a wall behind a long row of folding tables that were covered in butcher paper so the fans couldn't see the stars' impatient foot-tapping, stashed alcohol, missing underwear, or hidden Blackberrying. Behind each star was a piece of posterboard with their name and credits, in case you weren't sure why you wanted to meet them or couldxn't quite remember where'd you'd seen their face before, especially if it had been covered in makeup and latex tentacles at the time. And you needed to be sure; autograph lines of hundreds of people stretched and curved across the floor, doubling back on themselves to create some sort of intricate, organically changing knot that was broken and reformed repeatedly every time someone dressed as General Grievous or an eight-foot Pac-Man needed to come through. Read the rest of this entry »

I try to write, I really do. And most times I succeed. But I spend plenty of time "researching," wandering aimlessly around the Web, rearranging the papers on my desk, or just staring aimlessly out my window as my deadlines loom over me like the last scenes of a monster movie. For people like me, now our browsers can use the principles of operant conditioning and jolt us out of our laziness.

"Write or Die" from Dr. Wicked's Writing Lab is a text window you open up in your Web browser that pays attention to see if you're typing. You enter your word goal, a time goal, or both, and select a mode of punishment. Once you begin typing the dire consequences are activated. If you stop typing – say, to go hit Wikipedia for a fact or AintItCool because you're bored – each mode delivers increasingly horrible punishments. Gentle mode blinks a reasonably polite reminder at you to get back to work already. Normal mode plays horrible songs (yes, goofing off may get you repeatedly RickRolled). And Kamikaze, the worst, actually begins deleting what you've already written, word by word, until you begin writing again.

Write or Die is not a word processor in any way; it exists only to force you to get words on the screen. You still have to copy what you've written and paste it somewhere else to save it (the newest version of Write and Die automatically copies your text to your clipboard if you close that browser window or tab, as a precautionary measure). But for people who need constant nudging (ahem), Write or Die can be an effective goad. Especially once he gets the "Electric Shock Mode" up and running…