Fortnightly Writing Competition: Scarcity (WINNER!)

Started by Ponch, Wed 08/06/2016 04:09:29

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Ponch

Sharpen those pencils and open your notebooks, it's time for the new
FORTNIGHTLY WRITING CONTEST
And this time around the theme is...

SCARCITY

Times are tough all over, and nowhere are people working harder to make do with less than in your story.

Spin me a yarn about characters facing hardships with less than they need to get through it comfortably. They can be lacking any number of things: money, moral support, blood, breathable air, clean socks, or whatever you can think of.

Deadline is June 22. First come, first served. Don't be late. Doors to the FWC soup kitchen / flop house will close at midnight that night, and no other hobo authors in search of work will be let in after that.

Once all submissions are in, I'll give you guys a few days to vote -- but because we're all getting by with less, each of you can only manage to spare a single vote. So make that one vote count! Sure, I know we've all become spoiled with our abundance of votes in the last year or two, but those lush salad days are over. You only get one vote to cast, just like it was back in the old days of this competition, when penny candy cost a nickel and we had to walk to school in ten feet of snow and it was uphill both ways. So save that one vote for the one person you think is most deserving.

It'll be fun, trust me!

Submissions will be judged by the usual criteria and trophies might be handed out, provided that I can cobble something together in this economic malaise. Who wants a store bought trophy anyway? Nothing says love like a homemade gift! :cheesy:

Stupot

T  r 's   s  r ity o  l tt rs on  y   ybo rd.

KyriakosCH

This is the Way - A dark allegory. My Twitter!  My Youtube!

Haggis


KyriakosCH

This is the Way - A dark allegory. My Twitter!  My Youtube!

Ponch

I'm not going set a word limit for this contest in case someone has the next "Grapes of Wrath" inside their head and has been waiting for the chance to post it to the FWC. But if you want to impose such a limit on yourself (or any other similar handicap), please feel free to do so. :smiley:

KyriakosCH

Ok, but given i haven't taken part in any competition here before, i am wondering what the normal word count is... Would something around 1000 words be typical? :)
This is the Way - A dark allegory. My Twitter!  My Youtube!

Ponch


KyriakosCH

Ok, here goes, roughly 650 words, a short story of mine i translated :)
The original (in Greek) is the opening story of my published book. I hope you like the story!

"Gray walls

It was a noon during the middle of summer, which was crucial, since the hot Sun allowed the opportunity to the staff and the patients to have a walk at the great yard of the public mental health hospital. I arrived on time so as to meet with one of the doctors I knew from days of old. The occasion for my visit was a distinction awarded to one of my stories that I had promised to read to him in person, as I used to do in the past when we would meet.
My acquaintance, who worked there, gave me a tour of the areas comprising his office but also of those other ones open to the public in the department which he is administrating for a short time now. “All the walls here are gray” he said.
At some moment, as we were in his spacious office for quite some time, sat comfortably in our armchairs and having each lit a cigar, my acquaintance -having just recalled something of significance- told me that I have to see one more location.
I accepted, only was saddened a little that I should now rise from such a nice environment, and also have to extinguish my cigar, but in a while we were in the corridors, and there we walked, my acquaintance in front of me and I at the back.
For some time we marched in corridors which in equal distances were being separated from doors featuring diaphanous glass in their upper part, whereas other doors -to the sides of us and not diaphanous- were leading to places unknown to me. At last we reached the end of the floor. He opened the final door, which also was not diaphanous and thus I had guessed it would be the door to a room and not one behind which there existed the continuation of the corridor, he stood in front of it, told me to “please, go on”, and as I went inside the empty white room he closed the door abruptly and locked it.

Since that time I am here. From the window I gaze at the yard, below, sometimes I shout but no one seems to listen to me. It has even happened that I would deem that one had heard- something perhaps not so easy from thirty meters below, but I yelled with all my power- a group of patients which must have belonged to the persons with mental disability raised their heads and seemed to look at me, and this in turn caused me, unwillingly, to cry.
I am thinking of the betrayal by that person. To have locked me here, where there exists nothing… Or rather at first I thought there existed nothing, since at some moment â€" I supposed that I was becoming crazy- I noticed a protrusion, white as well, on the floor, and I neared it so as to assure myself that it was merely a delusion. But it was not- It was a small white piece of chalk!

From that time I am looking at the chalk, and the walls, with a horrible speculation. From that time I have moved away from the walls, I stay at the window, holding the chalk in my hand which I stretch outside, towards the powerful Sun. Should I let it fall?
And a thought devours me. That the walls outside of this cell were all of one color. That if I neared, perhaps, the walls of the cell, if, against all hope, I dared scratch a bit onto them with my hand, the color of the used-up and existent everywhere chalk would diminish, and then I would be forced to watch more carefully, the endless series of letters, and then â€" how much do I fear it! â€" to find scribbled, between other ones, also this story which I am now narrating to myself…"
This is the Way - A dark allegory. My Twitter!  My Youtube!

Baron

Never trust a doctor with a cigar.  Ever. (wrong)

Normally entries for this competition have to be original and unpublished.  Can we get a ruling from the Grand Poobah of Contest Administration on this?

Ponch

Quote from: Baron on Fri 10/06/2016 03:38:40
Never trust a doctor with a cigar.  Ever. (wrong)

Normally entries for this competition have to be original and unpublished.  Can we get a ruling from the Grand Poobah of Contest Administration on this?
OFFICIAL RULING INCOMING!
Yes, Baron is right. Entries for the FWC have to be written specifically for the contest within the time limit of the competition. That's the challenge, you know? Your story is quite nice, KyriakosCH, but it's not fair to the other writers here to make them compete with something that was written earlier, polished to a publishable state, and vetted by an editor. I hope you'll entertain us with a different, entirely new story for our competition, but I can't allow this one to enter the contest. Sorry. :sad:

KyriakosCH

#11
It's ok. Not sure if i will come up with something else, though. I was in it to share my own work, not to win anyway ;)

edit: so, if it is ok, i would be interested in feedback on the story, despite it not being part of the contest :D Of course i had to try to translate it, and my english is not (i hope) as good as my greek (laugh)
This is the Way - A dark allegory. My Twitter!  My Youtube!

JudasFm

Quote from: KyriakosCH on Fri 10/06/2016 04:37:36edit: so, if it is ok, i would be interested in feedback on the story, despite it not being part of the contest :D Of course i had to try to translate it, and my english is not (i hope) as good as my greek (laugh)

It's very, very difficult to give feedback on this, because although there are a number of writing errors, I honestly can't tell how much of that is just lost in translation. You use a lot of odd words (diaphanous glass; diaphanous usually only refers to clothes) and the prose is stilted and very hard to follow, but as I said, I think that's most likely because it was originally written in another language. As far as the story goes, I have no idea what's going on beyond the fact that a doctor's locked up someone else who finds a piece of chalk in the room ???

KyriakosCH

Quote from: JudasFm on Fri 10/06/2016 15:51:57
Quote from: KyriakosCH on Fri 10/06/2016 04:37:36edit: so, if it is ok, i would be interested in feedback on the story, despite it not being part of the contest :D Of course i had to try to translate it, and my english is not (i hope) as good as my greek (laugh)

It's very, very difficult to give feedback on this, because although there are a number of writing errors, I honestly can't tell how much of that is just lost in translation. You use a lot of odd words (diaphanous glass; diaphanous usually only refers to clothes) and the prose is stilted and very hard to follow, but as I said, I think that's most likely because it was originally written in another language. As far as the story goes, I have no idea what's going on beyond the fact that a doctor's locked up someone else who finds a piece of chalk in the room ???

Going by the very end, and the title, you may identify that perhaps the person was in that room all along, as a mental house patient ;) He just wrote the fantasy that he was merely a visitor, covering the grey wall with his writing by chalk :)
This is the Way - A dark allegory. My Twitter!  My Youtube!

Baron

I didn't think the story itself was bad, but the writing definitely needs to be tightened up.  I think it's the lack of discreet sentences at some points that make the piece most difficult to read/understand:

QuoteHe opened the final door, which also was not diaphanous and thus I had guessed it would be the door to a room and not one behind which there existed the continuation of the corridor, he stood in front of it, told me to “please, go on”, and as I went inside the empty white room he closed the door abruptly and locked it.

This should be at least 2 sentences, and could easily be split into 4 or more.  Is the narrator rambling like this because he is crazy, or is this how "sentences" as we understand them run on in the Greek language?

KyriakosCH

Greek makes long sentences be more flowing than in english, yes. Although iirc this also happens in german to a degree (?).

I have to suppose it does, because "Kafka" :D
This is the Way - A dark allegory. My Twitter!  My Youtube!

Haggis

Ok, I had a really hectic week (a real-life scarcity of time) - but now it's over I'll see if I can maybe come up with an idea... no promises though, the well is still dry from the last one!

Oh and KyriakosCH I loved the image of the guy holding the chalk up to the sun - for some reason I found that very powerful.

KyriakosCH

Quote from: Haggis on Sun 12/06/2016 01:57:57
Ok, I had a really hectic week (a real-life scarcity of time) - but now it's over I'll see if I can maybe come up with an idea... no promises though, the well is still dry from the last one!

Oh and KyriakosCH I loved the image of the guy holding the chalk up to the sun - for some reason I found that very powerful.

Thanks! :D
This is the Way - A dark allegory. My Twitter!  My Youtube!

Sinitrena

Quote from: KyriakosCH on Sat 11/06/2016 12:18:35
Greek makes long sentences be more flowing than in english, yes. Although iirc this also happens in german to a degree (?).

I have to suppose it does, because "Kafka" :D

It does, to a degree. But the sentences you used in your story wouldn't exactly 'flow' in German, either. (And now I'm wondering how ancient Greek, that I know a little, and modern Greek compare in this regard) It's generally speaking not a good idea to translate into a foreign language, writing in it instead leads to a more naturally sounding text.
I enjoyed your story, by the way, even though I didn't get the impression that the narrator was in his cell the whole time, as you intended, but that might be due to the fact that it's just the beginning of an obviously longer story. What I noticed is that the description of the doctor and the way the narrator talked about him felt off, thereby adding credit to your intended meaning that they probably don't actually know each other. Without you saying that though, it was just strange.

________________________

A paper. A pen.

A pen. A paper.
A candle. Shadows around. Shades and dust.
The chair heavy. The eyelids too. The thoughts.
Empty the spaces around. Empty the head.
A finger tapping on wood. A head in a hand. Hair tousled.
Now, a pen in a hand. Now down on the table.
A man, pacing. Wax dripping. Ink. Splotches. Dust. A pistol.

No letters, no words, nothing.
For weeks, for months, for years. Nothing.

Mice lurking. Hungry. Hunger, always hunger. Shared. It's all to share.

The paper empty. Always empty. Or not. But then: torn, crumpled. The head empty. No ideas, no words.
Once, yes once…
Now, no.
Echoes of hopes long gone. Echoes of hope. Crumpled and torn.

A step now. A decision.
Suddenly the words. So long missing, now there.
Just words. Nothing but words. No hope. Not even an echo. Just words.
Flowing. Fast. Easy. Words, ideas.

A candle, wax, an old ring. Worth some money. No more.
Only a sigil left. Only a name. A history. Gone.
Gone in just a second. In words. In lost ideas. In powder and lead. Gone.

A paper. Not empty. Words. Words and wishes. A will.
Splotches now on the paper. Not ink.
Empty the head. Empty the spaces around.
In the shadows just dust.

On the table paper and pen.

Ponch


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