WRiTE CLUB 2015 - Bout #18

WRiTE CLUB is a writing community sensation sponsored by the DFWWriters Conference that is loosely based on the popular movie Fight Club.  There are numerous versions of this concept floating around the internet, but nothing like we do it here.  This unique approach embodies simple, good-natured competition, with lots and lots of fun sprinkled on top. 

Today we continue with the second phase of the contest which involves ten more daily bouts (M-F) over the next two weeks between Anonymous 500 word writing samples, submitted under a pen name.   The writing can be any genre, any style (even poetry) with the word count being the only restriction. Today is Bout #18.  Read each sample carefully and then leave a vote in the comment section for the one that resonates with you the most.  Don’t forget to leave with a brief critique of both submissions as well.

Voting for each bout will remain open for one week. The winner of each will be posted HERE, at the WRiTE CLUBscoreboard.  Are you ready?

Here are todays randomly selected WRiTER's.

Standing in this corner, representing the Humor genre and weighing in at 491 words, please welcome to the ring……..Cloudwatcher

After clicking through fifty, age-appropriate profiles, there he was: tall (what I look for first), handsome (good photo), professional (doctor: jack pot!), and widowed (divorced people have baggage—I have a portable moving pod). An “adventurous,” man who cooks (!), is “extremely romantic,” enjoys movies, the theatre, reading, AND wants companionship as well as love. Sounds too good to be true!

So why haven’t I whipped out my credit card, filled in the bubbles, and sent him a wink? Because I have to wring the life out of this possibility by over-thinking, overanalyzing, assuming, judging, and ultimately concluding that he wouldn’t wink back. The man wants a “lady” (red flag) who is “beautiful”, “kind”, “educated”, and “loving.”

First, I hesitate because, while I’m attractive, I’m not man-ready beautiful like Michelle Pfeiffer or Betty White. Besides, I live in the south. I’ll never be a petite charmer. I have concluded—without asking—that he is looking for the stereotypical “Dallas bitch.” I only half-qualify.

As for “kind,” don’t ask my ex-husband (or his mother). Others, such as my children, call me warm-hearted, friendly and nice. I’d love to say, “Yup, “generous,” that’s me,” or “Considerate? Always!” But, honestly, if the good-looking physician wants warm-hearted and humane all the time, I can’t sustain it. I can be kind to some of the people all of the time (my kids and grandkids), all of the people some of the time (everyone else in the world), but I can’t be kind to all of the people all of the time.

Undoubtedly, I’m educated. I am a lawyer. (Did I just hear him click “no”? Doctors hate lawyers, right? Everybody hates lawyers, right? I’d defend my profession but enough of us have corrupted, embezzled, and lied under oath (“I did not have sex with that woman…”) that I can’t rehabilitate my fellow attorneys. In my own defense, I am an honest lawyer (not an oxymoron). I have helped people who needed my skills during difficult times in their lives. While dream doc has saved lives (probably, he’s that cute) and while the world needs doctors, the world needs lawyers, too. Damn it.)

Finally, he lists “loving.” By “loving” does he mean “affectionate” or “willing to have sex?” Heavy sigh…. Yes, I’m willing to have sex, not on the first date, but eventually. Remember the “beautiful” part above? Well, I’m not fat, but I have some padding around the middle and am “sufficient” in the thigh and buttock regions. And I seldom notice the skin that hangs down from my upper arms that can be waived like flags at a parade. Oh, and I snore. But, yes, I am willing to have sex. How about it?

So, am I beautiful, kind, educated, and loving enough for the tall, handsome, widowed, adventurous professional? Should I pay to get on the site so I can flirt with him and maybe get a date? Nah. I’ll save my money.

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And in the other corner, representing the Techno-Thriller genre with 479 words let me introduce to you……….Jae Lee Hunter

Fiona checked her texts, still no reply. She had hit up almost everyone and not one response, strange. The cellphone slid from her hand, and tumbled across the mattress. She shrugged, rolled onto her stomach, and began flipping through the latest issue of Vogue. Her leg bobbed in the air, eyebrow raised, as she eyed the upcoming spring line. A buzz shook the phone beside her, its flat screen lighting up.

As she glanced at the display, a smile lifted her lips. She scooped up the phone, and tapped the picture of her friend’s face to answer the call.

“Hey Bree, I was just drooling over this Dolce-Gabbana—”

“Fiona,” a meek voice interrupted. “I just want to let you know.”

There was a long pause, and Fiona sat up.

“Well, the thing is…the other night, at Troy's party, when I kissed you, Skylar made me do it.”

“Why would she do that?” Fiona’s legs draped over the side of her bed, the soft carpet brushing her toes.

“She wanted to get pictures, said it was time for you to get knocked off your high horse.”

Fiona jumped to her feet, glimpsing her red cheeks in the mirror. “And you just went along huh?” Coils of betrayal twisted inside her gut. She could just see them now; half the senior class, gathered around Skylar’s huge marble fireplace, laughing at her. Was she on speaker?

“Oh my god Fiona! This was a hard decision, but Skylar said I could hold her bags at Bergdorf’s. That’s just an opportunity I can’t pass up. I’m sorry but, I’m not into girls so…don’t ever call me again.”

As the line went dead, Fiona slowly lowered her hand. A wave of anger flooded her chest, mixing with the dread that already dwelled within. It all quickly turned to panic, rising, smothering, panic. It was only a matter of time. The whispers would start soon, spreading over the Upper East Side like a plague. Then, her parents would find out.

Suddenly, her wide-open room seemed cramped and suffocating. Fiona dashed to her closet, tossed on her sneakers, and grabbed a sweater. “I’ll just go for a little walk,” she muttered, pulling the velvety fleece over her head.

***

Fiona leaned against a brick wall, peering through a wide window. She stopped taking karate lessons almost two weeks ago but for some reason, she found her way back to this building every night.

A smile played on her lips as she watched the woman inside. Graceful hands that sliced through the air, light steps as she moved across the sparring mats, Isoko.

Her eyes dropped but only for a moment before Fiona returned to gawking. She barely knew the woman. A few weeks of lessons, and two awkward dates, that’s all they shared. Yet here she was–again–watching the sweat glisten on the woman’s shoulders.

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Enjoying two talented writers at work is only part of the price of admission, now it’s up to you to decide who moves forward to the playoffs.  In the comments below leave your vote for the winner.  Which one tickled your fancy?  After you vote please tell all of your friends to stop by and make a selection as well.  Yes, it’s subjective, but so is the entire publishing world.  It’s as much about the readers as it is about the writers. 

This is WRiTE CLUB – the contest where the audience gets clobbered!