I’m going to give it a shot. If you have questions about it or need information about it, you can go check it out. 50000 words in 30 days is the minimum, roughly 1667 words a day. No harm working on it. Here we go!
Jason Evans‘ “Restless Dawn” short fiction contest will close soon over at Clarity of Night. If you are still keen in it, do hurry a bit. I’ve sent in my entry. Do take a look here and give me your priceless comments. I want to improve as a writer, so hearing people out will be useful.
As I enter into my last weeks of the work year, I still have tasks to be completed. Trying to stay afloat in the pool of things in this transitional period. Like I have hinted before, I’m slowly but most definitely moving on to something entirely different in 2008. Very excited about it and will talk about it when the time comes.
talented Mr Evans at Clarity of Night has just opened his 7th short fiction contest. and i’m so looking forward to participating in it for the third time in a row. after achieving an honourable mention the last round, will i do better this time? allow me to sleep on it and dream, please. and if you are interested too, go over there now and see how you can get yourself involved in “Restless Dawn“.
meanwhile, i’ve just passed my third exam in less than two weeks. three more to go.
and this blog will turn one in december. any idea how i can celebrate with you here?
second, facebook is my current squeeze. networking is key here.
third, just started to try out “world in conflict“. again, networking is the agenda.
fourth, a writing competition for my 12-year-olds is on the way. plan to approach some writers here in the blogosphere to be the judges.
fifth, just got involved with “blog action day!”. will post something on 15 about the environment. and yes, writing will resume after that.
guys, i’m back. if you miss me, i thank you!
i want to thank Bucephalus for taking care of this place in my absence. some lovely writings from Bashō! you are good, you beast! and thank you all for giving him your lovely support and encouragement!
my pleasure. will do a better job the next time.
yeah, it was a very busy week with all the work in school, the bonding at home and the writing for competitions.
finally submitted my entries for the Golden Point Award. i took part in both the fiction (maximum 5000 words) and poetry category (5 to 8 poems). spent quite long hours churning out the fiction and understood the real writing process – a definite challenging task. due to competition requirements, i’m not able to share my entries here. the results will only be known by december, so will probably post my entries up come end of the year or in 2008.
winning it? it would be nice, considering the fact that over 500 people took part in the last one in 2005. the important thing is i’m beginning to enjoy writing a lot. should i say i love it. will definitely dedicate more time to write more which implies that i will improve.
jason at clarity of night had another fantastic writing contest again. similar to the last one i took part, a participant is to write a short fiction of up to 250 words based on a theme and a picture. this time, the theme is “Halo” and you can check out the details here.
i submitted my entry entitled “Miss James”. go read it here and give me your comments either here or there.
well, that’s quite an update. will catch up with you at your blogs soon.
and it’s great to be back! 🙂
the deadline’s next tuesday. and i only managed two poems in the middle of some heavy workload. have to submit 5 to 8 poems for the poetry category and a short story of up to 5000 words for the fiction category. will struggle a bit but am confident that they will be churned out in time. winning it is an extra extra bonus. the writing process is what i’m after. wish me luck!
see that my dearest lion has been doing a good job here. thanks, Bucephalus!
you are welcome! leave this place to me! 🙂
like i’ve mentioned before, work has been bugging me. little room and time for creativity in writing. and the window for submissions for the Golden Point Award is closing soon. all i have so far is some vague outline. albeit this competition is an extremely tall order, i still very much want to participate in it. therefore, i’ve decided to take a backseat here for awhile until i complete my writing entries for the competition. bucephalus will take care of things in my absence. he will have the freedom to post whatever he deems relevant. please give him your full support, the way you give it to me. if he does well, give him a rub on the back. if he messes things up, reserve your gripes till i return. see you soon, folks!
“i will do my best, master c.s.!”
the shameless lions writing circle awards had just been given out. and yes, my beloved adopted lion, Bucephalus, has won the best-looking lion award! though he’s placed 4th, he’s beaten 44 other lions in looks! way to go, Bucephalus! wait, he’s going to say something…
“MEEEOWWW! thank you master c.s., for picking me! i have always wanted to say this, but was never given a chance. thank you members of the jury for believing that i might just pip brat pitt in the looks department! and thank you all for supporting me! from now on, i shall start learning from my master, and hopefully i will churn out some decent writing pieces half as good as my master’s. let me start with this poem:
hear ye o hear ye!
bucephalus is here!
to deliver and conquer!
to undivide and raise the tide!
so be fearful, yet respectful!
for this is only the beginning!
well done, Bucephalus!
certainly you have not heard the last of him.
pleasantly surprised. i am a co-winner at minx’s competition. i thought mutley’s piece was really good. never expected me to share the honours with him.
i have to thank the wonderful minx for giving me this recognition. i would surely go on to write more (trash and non-trash). thanks, minx!
for those who have not read my winning piece, please scroll down and look for it.
the marvelous minx has a little competition up and running at the moment. and it will close in another couple of hours’ time. she asked anyone interested to write anything (prose or poem) of not more than 500 words based on any of the three paintings by jack vettriano.
i never thought of not participating. but only managed to write one decent piece today. this is the picture i have chosen followed by my prose, which can also be found here. enjoy!
Door Left Open
Aubrey puffed the cigarette. She refused to cry. The emotions from within could still be contained. She knew she had done the right thing. As much as she cherished her girl, she had to do it.
Alan put his hand on her shoulder. His touch reaffirmed their faith in each other. He knew he was right. There could not be another way out. As much as he cherished his girl, they had to do it.
The screen had been telling a promising story. Images of her eclipsed the dark side of the house. The playground, the barn, the pony ride, the swimming pool, the birthday cake… Her life could have gone on to a fireworks display.
“……happy birthday to Adele! happy birthday to you!” the cheers and applause preceded the end of the movie clip.
“It’s time now,” Alan kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll wait for you.” He disappeared through the door.
Aubrey finished her last bit and put the stub away. Then, it came. The sorrow from deep down surfaced tremendously and took over her entire being. She wept, her hands on her face. She went on for about five minutes, absolutely losing control.
Then, all of a sudden, the tears stopped completely. She removed her hands from the face that was scarred with trails of her mascara.
She stood and moved towards the long flight of stairs. She scaled it slowly, and came to her door. It was left open. She pushed it away and walked to the bed. Alan was there, head hung low. He was sobbing. Aubrey put her hands on his shoulders and pulled herself close.
“I’m sorry, Adele! I’m really sorry!” he couldn’t help but utter, visibly shaken. She was the composed one now. Perhaps, she had dried up all her grief. She took her husband’s hand and placed it on the girl’s face with hers. It was already cold by then. Obviously the drug had worked. She was gone.
They stayed there for quite awhile.
They took one last look at their motionless girl. No more goodbyes, no more pain. They left and came to their lounge. Aubrey sat on the bar stool. Alan went behind the counter and uncovered it from a locked box.
“I love you!” he said, looking at her.
“I love you too!” she answered, eyes closed.
He put it on her head. He pulled the trigger, and she was gone.
He placed it on his and pulled. He was gone too.
The sunlit rays filtered through the curtains and woke her up. She just had a long, wonderful dream. The little girl stretched her tiny body. Then, she was up. She saw the door that was left open. She yelled in excitement and ran through it, the pacifier still in her mouth.
“Mummy! Daddy!” she shouted as she searched. Then, she saw it… through the balcony. The morning sky was bathed in a golden hue. She just stood there, admiring God’s gorgeous backdrop. She smiled.
Maht over at The Moon Topples had his second fiction-writing competition based on the theme “Growth”. Again, I submitted an entry shamelessly(borrowed from Seamus), hoping to gain more. Again, not totally satisfied with what I wrote, but thought it could be a very brief extract of something longer. Of course, I did not win anything. But I’m really glad that there are such opportunities for unpublished or novice writers like yours truly. The winning entries there are excellent. Go there and enjoy reading. Here’s mine:
For the first time in twelve years, Farah could wake up from her slumber seeing the morning sun. She thought she was dreaming initially. She could still distinguish colours. The sky had finally cleared. It looked flawlessly blue. When was the last time I saw blue, she wondered with a faint smile. She checked the monitor that read “31 Jan 2674, 7:06 a.m., Marina, Singapore Sector”.
She pushed the green button. “Sustainability module disarmed,” a voice dictated. She pushed the yellow button. The capsule opened. She raised herself slowly from a horizontal posture and sat. Then with a rather mighty effort, she stood up.
The smell of fresh air exhilarated her and she gave her body a huge stretch. For a minute or two, she just stood there absorbing the rare snowless moment, eyes closed. The heat from the Sun not only warmed her physically, it actually spoke to her heart and soul. There is hope after all, she thought.
Farah opened her eyes and made a visual 360º scan round her capsule. Barring the thick layers of snow, nothing had changed a bit. The Sheares Bridge still stood mightily tall about a mile away. The Esplanade’s unique spiky rooftop still looked comical despite the snowcap it sported. The casino skyscrapers still dominated the whole landscape with their sheer size and millions of glass panes that reflected the sunlight brilliantly.
Then it dawned on her she was standing right in the middle of the snow-caked Singapore River. The storm must have taken her all the way here. She looked around again. She was alone.
She remembered the drill. She stooped and pulled out The Hub from a side compartment of the capsule. She pressed the power button on The Hub. Then, she held it with both her hands and stretched her arms. A purple laser beam scanned her eyes. “Farah Abdullah, T43556777G, female, aged 74. Please proceed,” read the monitor on The Hub. She then positioned The Hub directly above her head. “Scanning brain chip in progress, please do not remove The Hub,” a voice echoed. Seconds later, she could hear The Hub again, “Brain chip scanned. Message sent. Community activated. Please proceed to build community.”
Farah removed The Hub from her head, and kept it in a sling bag. She had the mission in mind. She was not looking forward to it, but she had to do it for the sake of mankind. She stepped out of the capsule and began trudging through the snow on the river.
Barely a minute later, she heard several beeps from The Hub. She took it out and stared at the monitor.
“Lee Teck Hong, T99574112Z, male, aged 17. Location: Raffles, Singapore Sector.”
“Charles Rajandren, T25872144A, aged 24. Location: Bangalore, India Sector.”
“Marco Paldini, T09866352C, aged 80. Location: Naples, Italy Sector.”
“Kevin Jones, T23234098M, aged 45. Location: New York, American Sector.”
Her heart sank when she read the next line, “No other surviving males within The Hub’s radar. Please proceed to build community.”
the clarity of night contest was over a few days back. you would probably know by now that my first entry didn’t win anything as expected since it was my first venture into serious fiction. but i think i’ve won some friends. and most importantly, i’ve won some experiences. i really enjoy writing lately. and i enjoy sharing my writing with people who enjoy reading. hopefully my pieces have intrigued and will continue to intrigue them.
anyway, “Moebius” will remain one of my favourite compositions. not just the theme, but also the way i paced the events unconventionally. below are some positive and not-so-positive comments left for “Moebius” over at clarity. i’m flattered by the positive ones and delighted by the ‘confusions’ i’ve caused.
Umm, sorry, you've lost me.
Can someone explain it to me?
I'm usually pretty down with abstract, but this one really isn't connecting.
Somebody dreaming about suicide? Shades of "Groundhog Day". Sorry, author, this one leaves me feeling kinda lost.
I was hoping to have it explained in the comments myself. I'm a little lost too.
Nope. Read it again and still don't get it. Is this poetry. At first I thought it was someone in prison, escaping, just below a grate that takes a gargantuan effort to life. Probably too literal. Sorry, I just don't get it.
Sweet...interesting read. :)
I get you man, i get you ;)
I should have phrased my comments differently. What I should have asked for was some help to understand. The writing is wonderful, and like poetry, evokes images, even if I don't understand the message. Sorry I wasn't more supportive.
I apologize as well if my comment seemed negative.
I'm intrigued by the words and was hoping someone would help me put together any obvious connections my brain wasn't making.
The writing itself is very good and definite points for originality.
i too am lost. but i enjoy it for some reason. i keep coming back to this to re-read it, even thought of it at work tonight. the thing of it is, is that i know it's there just below the surface, i just can't see it cause of the ripples. (the meaning that is)
I liked this treatment CS, it has captured those final, distracted, tortured moments of this person's suicide.
I thank the higher powers that we do not all write in exactly the same way, that we are still free to explore our varied styles and examine our individual interpretations freely. The writing world would be a very dull place without explorers!
interesting piece, canterbury soul. suicide. very disturbing. you got that across quite well.
jason evans said...
For me, it felt like whirling thoughts trying to pump someone up to commit suicide. It seems to leave open whether the protagonist actually does it. "...dishes and make my wishes" is oddly alluring.
High marks for pacing and entertainment value.
anyway, i have another chance to show my prowess in writing at Maht’s place. His second competition has just started. i’m excited about writing another piece of fiction that will hopefully generate more interests or perhaps controversy. 😉 wish me luck!
I knew I had to take part in it though I’ve not written many fictions. It’s not so much about the prizes, but the exposure and the learning experience, and hopefully the feedback I get from people round the world. Spent about one and a half hours working on my first competitive entry. Can’t say I’m totally satisfied with it, but quietly delighted that I have written this one, exactly 250.
It’s 10.33 a.m.
I saunter into the kitchen. I stand up.
It is finished. I’m liberated, irrevocably.
It has been a protracted decision to do it; utterly iniquitous to myself. Vertigo has no meaning now. Sensation is found wanting at my limps. This is it.
In a fraction of a second, I am on top. 40 months of weight-training has primed me for this. I tighten my grasp on the grills.
Please, Lord, help me with my final impetus. I stare at the dishes and make my wishes. I’m now literally on my knees, if you can still spot them. I snigger again. Again the nerve tries to wreck me with pain. The skin just tears. Not as smooth, ’cos it has the v-edges. I pick up another piece and slit across the right one.
I chortle and cast it aside. The nerve tries to wreck me with the weapon, pain. The cut is clean albeit the trace of fluid has flourished. This piece’s appetite has been whetted over a long period and it shows. Almost instantly, my hand swiftly severs the left one.
I need to draw strength from you, Lord, please. I stare at the dishes and make my wishes again. The mind is acting up again. I pick up the pieces and begin to quiver. Please, Lord, give me the courage to complete my task. I stare at the dishes and make my wishes.
I saunter into the kitchen. I stand up.
It’s 10.33 a.m.