WRiTE CLUB 2021 - Preliminary Bout #9

 

The contest marches on with preliminary bout #9. Remember, the voting for each bout remains open for an entire week, so if you missed one or two you can always go back and catch up.

Here's a reminder of what is happening. WRiTE CLUB (sponsored by Wild Lark Books) is a tournament-style contest that will run for nine weeks (which includes a week break for the holidays). It provides writers the opportunity to compete against one another for a chance to win a free publication package (along with other prizes). Here’s the kicker—it’s all done anonymously. Writers have submitted 500-word writing samples under pen names. The chosen (decided by a group of twelve slush pile readers) are paired off to go head-to-head in daily “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.

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, the voters can win a $50 Wild Lark Books gift card. 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.

How this works—two anonymous (pen name only) writing samples are waiting in the ring below. Visitors to this blog (that’s you) should read both entries and then vote by leaving a comment for the one that resonates with you the most. We also ask that you leave a brief critique for both writers with your vote because that is one of the real values of this contest—FEEDBACK. Please be respectful with your remarks!

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 Wed, Dec 22nd (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. What is okay, in fact, encouraged, is to spread the word about the contest to get more people to vote, just not for a specific writer!

That’s enough of the fine print…here we go!

On one side of the ring stands Trelawney representing the Childrens Magical Adventure genre.

Come along. If you follow me, we might just catch him before he shuts the shop. Stay close to me. These streets are dark and narrow, and slither through the city like a snake. A child could easily get lost here. Hurry now. Down this alleyway – past the Captain’s Cavern pub and - yes, we’re just in time. Look, he’s closing the shutters. Quietly now. Don’t let him see us. Slip into this doorway and peep out carefully.

Ah, you’ve seen him, I can tell. Quite a sight, isn’t he? What’s his name? It’s Fraser. Fraser Crannog - of the Clan Crannog as he always reminds people. You won’t forget that, will you?

 F R A S E R   C R A N N O G. 

He doesn’t like it if you get his name wrong, and it’s always ‘Mr Crannog’ at first. He’s a wild looking man. If we were a little closer, you’d be able to see his thick, grey caterpillar eyebrows, his radish-red nose, his hair all wild and spiky. But, most of all, you’d see his eyes: sharp, shiny and icy blue. The sort of eyes that seek out your secrets. Your - very - deepest - secrets. Can you see the shop window? Look at those old lamps, antique toys, ancient books, pieces of furniture – all so thick with dust you could write your name in them. Finn does sometimes.Crannog’s Curios – ah, you spotted the sign and yes, you’re right, it is an antique shop – officially. But Fraser sells more than that. Much, much more. But we must go. He’s locked the door – he’s on his way home. Stay quiet. Quiet. He’s passing, so close we could reach out and touch him – can you smell the stale tobacco? That’s from his pipe. He smokes it all the time. He’s walking down the alley now to the main street, his footsteps echoing. He’ll disappear in a moment, into the swirling mist that chokes Edinburgh tonight. Now, let me take you to meet Finn.

***

Here we are, on the other side of the city. Look at those gloomy Victorian flats. Finn Silvers is up there in his bedroom. It’s the smallest room of all and smells musty and damp. He’s huddled under a blanket to keep warm. Can you see him, looking out from the top floor window? He’s wishing – wishing that he could fly, like the birds that are roosting in the tops of the trees. If he could, he’d fly back to London, back to the time when his Mum was alive. His old life, where his Dad hadn’t married Sylvia. It will be tea-time soon. His Mum used to make cakes and cook lovely meals with roast potatoes and gravy; Sylvia gives him spam and cabbage. Finn’s always hungry now. Come, I’ll take you up. Hold tight. 

“Finn! Come here this instant.” Ah, there’s Sylvia - that lemon-faced, bony woman in the frilly apron. Don’t be scared, she can’t see you.

  #############################################################################

On the far side of the ring, we have Durden Mayhem who represents the Flash Fiction genre.

Payoff

Five minutes in the bank line, and I’m hoping I get the attractive woman as my teller.  Landing in front of the older fella would be odd for both of us.  I can see his wedding ring from here.

It works out.  I approach the smiling Jillian, who certainly didn’t wake up this morning expecting the kind of deposit I am going to make.

“Can I help you?” she says to me as I get to her plexiglass.

I make sure my phone is angled correctly, and while looking at her nametag, I get straight to it.  “I am in love with you, Jillian.”

Her lips curl into a scowl, and her brow bends into all sorts of confusing.  

“Excuse me?”  Her face defines dumbfounded.

I continue with all sorts of sincerity.  “Sorry. I know we have never met, but when you know, you know. I saw you when I came in, I watched you while I was in line, and yeah, I am definitely in love with you.”

Jillian looks side to side at her colleagues to see if any of them are responsible for me.  When she realizes nobody at her workplace put me up to this.  She looks back at me with a mix of sympathy and anger.  

“Sir, you are a weirdo. I’m going to get my manager.”  She makes a move like she is going to have a higher-up come over to bring me down.

“Wait.  Hold on, Jillian. I am a weirdo. That much is true. But you don’t need to get anyone or call the cops or whatever. I’m leaving. I just needed to say what was on my heart.”

I leave her there with a smile and a wink.

As I make my way out of the front door, I turn off the video on my phone and quick text it to Jeff. 

Jeff is the guy I lost the bet to, and he always insists on video proof of my payoff. 

“Express your love to a complete stranger in a public place” was my bookie’s demand since I couldn’t pay my debt with cash.

I bet a thousand bucks on the Cowboys. 

Never smart.  

Especially when you don’t have the money to pay.

Thankfully, Jeff is not a knuckle-breaking sort of bookie.  He’s got a YouTube channel with a million followers, where he features fools like me having to shame themselves in various ways to pay off their debts.  He makes more money from his advertisers than he would if I had paid him actual dollars.

Works out for both of us.  

As I step into the bank parking lot, I approach my car and hear a pounding coming from my trunk.

The sounds of my second payoff. 

“Put a drunk stranger into your trunk for an hour.” 

That was for the $2,000 bet I made on the Lakers a week ago. 

I’m sure glad he knocked.  I had forgotten about him. 

He’s been in there since last night.

#############################################################################

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.

Finally, in order to keep this contest going AND GROWING, I'm asking folks to donate to the cause on my Ko-fi account. Let me assure you, 100% of the donations will go towards the contest prizes for this year and next!

We’ll be back tomorrow with one last bout before we take a break for the holidays. Please help all our writers out by telling everyone you know what is happening here and encouraging them to come vote.

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