Sorry for being tardy, but as Bob Cratchit explained so eloquently, "It shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday, sir."
How about we start off with a late Christmas present for one of our WRiTER's from last week's round seven? It was a very tight bout, actually neck and neck for awhile, but in the end TERRI LEE defeated GARGOYLE BEAUTY. The official score ended up being:
GARGOYLE BEAUTY - 12 votes TERRI LEE - 20 votes
TERRI becomes our seventh semi-finalist! He/She will join the other six winners in the semi-finals which will begin in February. As always, you can check my WRiTE CLUB page for a breakdown of all the winners along with links to all of the writing samples.
Before we move on to the next round I like to recount a conversation (email string) with one of my fellow blogging buddies for you. In it my fellow blogger expressed how they enjoyed WRiTE CLUB very much, but they just couldn't bring themselves to hurt somebody's feelings (by voting for one over the other). I replied by telling them that even though WRiTE CLUB was completely anonymous, I understood where they were coming from. But then I went on to ask if that reasoning demonstrated a "glass half empty" point of view. What about the exhilarating feeling of the WRiTER who earns a vote, doesn't that count just as equally, and if so, wouldn't it be better to look at it from a "glass half full" slant? There are those that would counter by asking why we should be drinking at all. My answer is that most of our readers ultimate goal is publication, and that doesn't happen in a vacuum. There are winners (multi-book contracts) and losers (rejection letters), and WRiTE CLUB is just little taste of that.
Anyway, we had a couple new submissions last week, so one contestant will come from the newby pool and their opponent from the open group. Here we go, without further ado....
Here are this week's randomly selected WRiTER's.
Standing in the far corner, weighing in at 226 words, please welcome to the ring……..
That night, Shay tossed in her bed, unable to sleep. She stared out her window at the scythe-like moon suspended in an ocean of blackness. Faint glimmerings of stars pinpricked the sky here and there, but they weren’t enough to lighten her room much. Wind battered the side of the house, causing the timbers to creak, and then it subsided. It was suddenly quiet. Too quiet.
Even her breathing and the rustling of the sheets as she sat up sounded loud. The darkness around her was menacing, as though it was trying to crush her back down onto the mattress, swallowing up even the faint outlines of her closet and shelves as a cloud consumed the moon. Shay shook herself angrily. She’d never been afraid of the dark before. What was the matter with her?
Then a noise interrupted the silence—a faint shuffling, as though made by tiny feet on the grassy carpet below her window. Maybe there was a deer or a rabbit outside.
Shay closed her eyes, settling back down, forcing herself to breathe slowly in and out, in and out. There. She was fine. Her window creaked and she opened her eyes wide to stare at it frantically. She sighed in annoyance at her own jitteriness. There was nothing there. Of course there wasn’t—her room was two stories above the ground.
And in the other corner, weighing in at 250 words (*WARNING - Explicit Language*), let me introduce to you ……..
Scott grabbed the remote, flipping through the channels until he settled on Star Trek.
“I ran into Betsy Miller,” Joachim said as Spock and Bones continued their endless emotion versus logic argument.
“Yeah?” Scott yawned. “She’s got those schoolgirl pigtails right? And the tattoo on her neck? She’s hot. You should ask her out.”
Joachim rubbed his jaw. “Why don’t you?”
“Can’t man. Dated her sister.”
“Wait, Penelope Miller? When the hell was that?”
“I don’t know, like 10 years ago.”
“In Middle School? Dude, that doesn’t even count.”
“Say what you want.” Scott shrugged. “I’m not dating her.”
The toaster popped and Joachim headed to the kitchen.
“I’m just saying man,” Scott continued. “You need to get laid. It would get you over Jen.”
“I am over Jen.”
“So you say, but I know you.”
Joachim grabbed a plate and returned to the living room.
“What happened anyways?” Scott asked. “You never told me.”
“Nothing.” Joachim tossed Scott two pastries. “We grew apart.”
Scott took a bite. He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. “That’s bullshit. That doesn’t happen.”
“It happens all the time.”
“Yeah, it happens to normal people. But you two – you were hot and heavy. You loved her, man. You wanted to buy her a ring.”
“No I didn’t.” Joachim grabbed the remote and turned the volume up.
“Whatever. You don’t have to fuckin’ lie to my face. If you don’t want to tell me then don’t tell me.”
“Fuck you, you’re drunk.”
So, how about it? By now you know the drill, leave your vote for the winner of round 8 in the comments below, along with any sort of critique you would like to offer. Please remind your friends to make a selection as well. The voting will remain open until noon Sunday. Remember, you can throw your pen name into the hat anytime during these last six weeks by submitting your own 250 word sample. Check out the rules by clicking on the badge below…then come out swinging!
Remember, here in WRiTE CLUB, it’s not about the last man/woman standing, it’s about who knocks the audience out!
Where words are the true knockout!