WRiTE CLUB 2019 - Preliminaries - Round 6

Yesterday we raised the hand of our 1^st bout winner (check out the Scoreboard) and today we kick-off the second week of entertaining matches, but this isn't a time to relax. Bouts 2-5 are still open for voting and although we are breaking records with the number of votes coming in, past years of this contest has historically seen a decline in the voting as we go deeper into subsequent rounds. I want to see that not happen this year. To do that, I need help from you, the readers. Keep showing up to support our writers, but after you do, please help spread the word whenever you can. Every bout deserves the same amount of attention as the first one received. Thank you!

For anyone just discovering WRiTE CLUB, it is a tournament-style contest (sponsored by the DFW Conference) that runs during the eight weeks prior to the conference and it provides writers the opportunity to compete against one another for a chance to win free admission to next year’s conference (along with other prizes). Writers have submitted 500-word writing samples under pen names and they'll be appearing in head-to-head in “bouts”, with the winner of each match determined by you the reader—by voting for your favorites. Bout winners keep advancing until there are only two remaining and that’s when a panel of celebrity judges, who include well know authors, agents, editors, and other publishing folks, choose the ultimate champion.

Even though the contest is sponsored by DFW, anyone can vote (as long as you have a Google sign-in or verifiable email address), and when you do, we encourage you to leave a mini-critique for both writers. Oh, I forgot to mention that the voters can win a $60 Barnes and Noble prize. Each time you vote in a bout your name will be placed into a hat and at the end of the contest, one name will be selected to receive the prize. And as an added incentive to keep readers coming back for more, we're upping the ante. Readers who place a vote in EVERY bout will have their names placed in a second hat and the name selected from that pool will win a $40 Barnes and Noble gift card. Double the chances of winning!

Even though there will be a different bout every day (M-F), the voting for each bout will remain open for seven days from the date I post it to give as many people as possible to have a say. Voting for today’s bout will close on Sunday, May 12th (noon central time). To help keep up with which bouts are open, you can follow along on the WRiTE CLUB Scoreboard updated right HERE.

It’s that simple. The writing piece that garnishes the most votes will move on to the next round where they’ll face a different opponent. In case of a tie, I’m the deciding vote. I can do that because, like all of you, I do not know the real names of our contestants either (my wife processes all the submissions).

A few more rules –

1) One vote per visitor per bout.

2) Although our contestants are anonymous, voters cannot be. Anonymous votes will not count, so if you do not have a Google account and are voting as a guest, be sure to include your name and email address.

3) Using any method (email, social media, text, etc) to solicit votes for a specific contestant will cause that contestant's immediate disqualification. It’s perfectly okay, in fact, it is encouraged to spread the word about the contest to get more people to vote, just not for a specific writer!
4) Although more of a suggestion than a rule - cast your vote before you read other comments. Do not let yourself be swayed by the opinions of others.

That’s enough of the fine print…like the man says –

For the 1st bout of our 2nd week, we have Book-keeper on one side of the ring representing the Fantasy/Adventure genre.

“All clear over here.”  The disembodied voice added to the eeriness of the abandoned village.  I suppressed a shiver as more voices echoed the call. 

I’d known when we set out we wouldn’t find any life, unless you counted the brown and shriveled leaves of ivy, determinedly clinging to the village well.  The thick coating of dust on abandoned buildings told the story of a place too long without water. 

The rest of the search party was already moving on, the dust cloud from parched pathways obscuring their progress as they hurried away from empty homes, driven by hope that the next village would be different, would have life. 

I knew better. 

Alone among tumbleweeds, I knelt and rummaged in my knapsack.  I’d have to work quickly before my absence was discovered.  I set my tin cup on the edge of the well and added tea leaves.  Next came a roll of cotton batting; I pulled off a small piece before tucking the rest away.  Lastly, a battered compass.  Notches in the bronze case counted the empty villages we had encountered.  The cover flipped open into a rudimentary map. 

With a deep breath and eyes pressed shut, I pushed my consciousness into the ground.  Running water bubbled in my thoughts as I searched for the joyful streams that ran beneath the land, if you looked hard enough. 

And long enough. 

What I found wasn’t a joyful spring, but a sluggish creek, parched as the land above. 

I immersed myself in it, momentarily overwhelmed by the anguish of the stagnant water.  Gasping with effort, I flooded the tired trickle of water with memories of rain, reigniting in it a long lost love of movement.

I pulled my thoughts back to the surface, to the cotton batting before me.  The water followed, filling the cotton with moisture, until it doubled and tripled in size, forming a small cloud. 

So small, it wasn’t nearly enough to end the drought, but it would have to do.  Already it held all the water to be found; even the browned ivy crumbled to dust as the cloud drained all the moisture it could find.

I carefully lifted it off the ground.  It had one more service to perform here.  A gentle squeeze filled the cup I had set aside, swirling into light brown tea.  It was a necessary luxury; the work left me drained, and I needed stamina to catch up with the search party. 

It was the work of moments to check the bearings on the compass, before giving the cloud a gentle breath in the right direction.  I didn’t know how long the makeshift cloud would hold before releasing its load.  For the hundredth time, I wished there was a better way.  For now, I’d have to collect it again, each time bringing it closer to civilization. 

I added a notch to the compass before tucking it away.  There’d be many more stops along the way to reverse the disaster I had created.  
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On the far side of the ring, we have Timberjack who is representing the Contemporary genre.

The day I was sent home from middle school in blood soaked jeans is easily the worst day of my life. Well, there is the time that a bird pooped in my hair on a field trip in the third grade, but that was a different kind of bad. No, the day I am talking about is the one taught me what it felt like to be ashamed of my body. Something very different than being embarrassed that you tripped over your own feet or grossed out by the amount of wax in your ears. It’s a deep mark that resurfaces every time I put on a pair of shorts that come above my knees or start to worry if my bra strap is showing through my shirt.

Each classroom in the school had an emergency clothes box that stayed in the closet. Usually the teacher pulled it out when someone was in need of dry socks or had managed to spill paint on their shirt. Today however as we lined up at the door to make our way to lunch, a large grey sweatshirt was pulled from the box and wrapped around my waist. Not a word was said until my teacher pushed me into the front office and whispered, “Aleqs had an accident, call her mom.”

Sheepishly, I went to take one of the seats lined up against the wall of the office where I was usually asked to wait when my mom was picking me up early or bringing me something I forgot.

“Don’t you dare sit down on that chair. You are dirty,” the secretary hissed as I stared at her wide eyed. Into the faculty bathroom I was sent with the sweatshirt still wrapped around my waist and no further instructions. I dashed through the door grateful to get away from her piercing glare but still confused as to why I wasn’t eating my baloney sandwich with the rest of my peers. I sat down to use the bathroom and that is when I saw it. Terror like I had never before felt rose inside of me as I frantically pulled toilet paper off of the roll to try and contain the thick blood that was covering my thighs and underwear and… Uh oh, my jeans.

Outside the bathroom I could hear my mother’s voice. I wrapped the sweatshirt back around my waist and dashed out to meet her. Instead of anger I was met with sympathetic gaze.

“Guess we have some stuff to talk about huh?” Mom said, wrapping me in her calming embrace.

 We made one stop between the house and the school, the store for mom to go in to grab some pads and two pints of Ben and Jerry’s. The rest of the afternoon was spent with us sitting on the couch eating ice cream while my jeans soaked in the sink. I am still grateful to this day that she didn’t make me go back to school.  

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Leave your votes and critiques in the comments below. Again, be respectful of your remarks and try to point out positives as well as detractions.

Before we sign off I wanted to address the issue a few readers are having with not being able to post comments, or having those comments show up as UNKNOWN even though they have a Google Account.  There are several things at play here. First, if you are using the Safari or Chrome browsers they have a known problem with Blogger and you have two choices. Switch to Firefox as a browser (I've never had a problem using it), or change the setting on Safari as illustrated below.

The other problem is Blogger not recognizing you when adding a comment and therefore designating you as UNKNOWN. This could happen if the reader is a Blogger user themselves and they have not changed their settings since Google + went away.  To do this, follow these steps:

Go to Blogger dashboard.
SETTINGS
USER SETTINGS
Set User Profile = Blogger (instead of Google +)
Save

Hopefully, that will resolve everyone's issues and let the votes/comments reach our contestants. If you missed the first two bouts because of one of these issues, remember the bouts remain LIVE for a week so you can still go back and let your choice be known.

We’ll be back on tomorrow for another exciting bout. Please help all our writers out by telling everyone you know what is happening here and encourage them to come vote.

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