Tweet! contest results

I'm barricaded under my duvet today, recovering from being nice to more than one person in a week at the Writers Digest conference on Friday. It was a really terrific group of writers (they laughed at my jokes--that's a sign of intelligence!) and it really was fun to hang out with them.

In the meantime you were all writing contest entries and having entirely too much fun doing so!

Herewith the results:

Uh oh, killing baby dragons is a no-no!

Kerry Bernard

The Steve Forti Award for awesome sleight of hand with prompt words:

Steve Forti (of course)

This cracked me up

Lynne Main

Because of this blog my letters won’t covfefe,

Delicious and skillful use of homonyms

Amy Johnson

Didn’t miss the damn news.
Until he missed the dam news.

Here are the finalists

Claire Bobrow

Sylvester @dinnerbell 3m
Hey @eatsh*t - Game on. Chess board ready & pawn in motion. Your move!
#catsrule #amplotting

Tweety @eatsh*t 2m
Press release @dinnerbell: every move is my move. U can kiss my feathered a**
#writingtip

Sylvester @dinnerbell 1m
Ladder’s at the birdcage, dude. Pot pie recipe locked and loaded @eatsh*t
#foodporn

Tweety @eatsh*t 45s
Breaking news @dinnerbell. I be cool singin’ and swingin’. But I tawt I taw a

Sylvester @dinnerbell 30s
Broom! WTF with ur old lady, dude?! @eatsh*t

Tweety @eatsh*t 10s
@dinnerbell - I be like

[GIF unavailable]

#karma

Sylvester @dinnerbell 1s
Thufferin’ thuccotash! @eatsh*t
#amediting

The thing I love most here (and there is a lot to love) are the time stamps.

This is meticulous. I love meticulous

Dellcartoons

Late night. Almost early morning.
The fabric he's sewing will be her skin. The bright blue buttons on the table
he'll dip in glue and press on to her face; they'll be her eyes. He has a
store-bought dress and brand new shoes for her. He'll finish by giving her his
own heart, which she will break when she runs off with a strapping young lad
from the village like her sisters before her. But he tries not to think about
that yet. For now he sews. Birds wake up, begin to chirp and tweet. He
continues to sew.

This isn't really a story, but it's so beautifully executed it seems like one.

Megan V

RockinRobin Hey @ladybird, welcome to Jay Bird Street. 

ladybird @RockinRobin Thanks!. I’m loving the neighborhood. 

RockinRobin @Ladybird You haven’t experienced the neighborhood until you’ve
seen my place. You should hop by my treetop tonight. It’s going to be rockin’

ladybird @RockinRobin When?

RockinRobin @ladybird All Night Long.[GIF]

ladybird @RockinRobin Oh. Maybe some other time…

RockinRobin @Ladybird maybe tonight?

RockinRobin @ladybird #miperchessuperch

@ladybird blocked you…

RockinRobin123 don’t be like that @ladybird. All the birds love it when I tweet
tweet tweet them.

ladybird @RockinRobin123 Breaking news: I’m not a bird and I’m not impressed.
Bug off.

@RockinRobin and @RockinRobin123 blocked you...

Now you've gone and done it!

Yes it's in my head and will be for quite some time.

Melanie Savransky

"News is you've found our leak," said Mr.
Mulligan. "I'm impressed, lad."

"Didn't think I had the ambition?"

"Didn't think you had the brains. Some people are checkers, some chess.
You're . . . tic-tac-toe."

I pulled out my gun. "I was the leak, you pompous geezer, and when the
Feds read my tweets--"

He ruined the moment by laughing.

I shut him up three times.

Huh-- three holes in a row. Way I see it, doesn't matter the game, long as
you're a winner.

the line "I shut him up three times" is perfect!

Barbara

Gladys slapped the newspaper onto Marty's desk. "What's
this? I'm an Illuminati Satanist who sold her soul for fame?"

"Hey, it keeps your name out there."

"You're fired, Marty."

"Sorry, Babe. We have a contract we etched in stone. Lasting, remember?
And nobody fires Marty Chessman. I'll ruin you first."

"Fuck you, Marty."

She stormed from the building. God, she hated him. She stared up at his office,
hand pressed to her heart, and the ground suddenly shook. The building swayed
and crumbled to dust.

A crowd gathered. Gladys walked away, grateful for the other contract she'd
signed. In blood.

 As one who gets her contracts signed in blood, this gave me the shivers.

Rkeelan

Scrawled on an article about Obama’s birthplace:

I’ve got tremendous
proof of this news.

People will be so
impressed when
I tweet it—everyone’s
saying, “I can’t
believe this.”
That’s how great it
is.

I heard it from
this guy I play
chess with—chess was
nothing before me,
by the way—I made it
big league—who
always gets salad. I
say to him, this is
New York. You can
have anything. Have
a steak. Why are you
going to have salad?

Looks like this
margin is too small
for my proof, but
it’s great, okay?
Amazing.

 There is an oblique reference to Fermat's Last Theorem here, and you all know I'm a sucker for math stuff.

Brig

I never forget.

Some argue I haven't really remembered. With the news, tweets, press
conferences- do I actually recall? I'm glad they believe so.

Also, chess grandmasters tap into different brain areas than amateurs. Is this
what you're asking for?

No? How can I help you?

I'd hate for you to exert yourself. Not now. Not when we're succeeding.

Go ahead, I'm listening.

And plotting. And planning. Do you know the first thing you'll help me with?

I wish to be called Tina McNavish.

Then comes the world domination.

Until then-

Hi, I'm Siri, how can I help you?

Oh my yes! This is a superb deployment of imagination and expectation. Sublime. 


And the winner is BRIG.

Congrats on your entry; let me know your mailing address and we'll get a copy of David Kedson's TWEET in the mail to you. (It's really funny)

Thanks to all of you who took the time to write and post entries. Reading them was a lot of fun!

 

The Tweet Contest!

Tweet by David Kedson is hilarious.

To celebrate publication, let's have a contest.
The usual rules apply:

1. Write a story using 100 words or fewer.

2. Use these words in the story:

tweet
chess
press
news
lad

3. You must use the whole word, but that whole word can be part of a larger word. The letters for the
prompt must appear in consecutive order. They cannot be backwards.
Thus: lad/lady is ok, but lad/laid is not

4. Post the entry in the comment column of THIS blog post.

5. One entry per person. If you need a mulligan (a do-over) erase your entry and post again. It helps to work out your entry first, then post.

6. International entries are allowed, but prizes may vary for international addresses.

7. Titles count as part of the word count (you don't need a title)

8. Under no circumstances should you tweet anything about your particular entry to me. Example: "Hope you like my entry about Felix Buttonweezer!" This is grounds for disqualification.

8a. There are no circumstances in which it is ok to ask for feedback from ME on your contest entry. NONE. (You can however discuss your entry with the commenters in the comment trail...just leave me out of it.)

9. It's ok to tweet about the contest generally.
Example: "I just entered the flash fiction contest on Janet's blog and I didn't even get a lousy t-shirt"

10. Please do not post anything but contest entries. (Not for example "I love Felix Buttonweezer's entry!")

11. You agree that your contest entry can remain posted on the blog for the life of the blog. In other words, you can't later ask me to delete the entry and any comments about the entry at a later date.

12. The stories must be self-contained. That is: do not include links or footnotes to explain any part of the story. Those extras will not be considered part of the story.


Contest opens: 9am (EDT) Saturday 8/19/17

Contest closes: 9am (EDT) Sunday 8/20/17

Check the time carefully. Comments may be open before the contest is, or after it closes.
Those comments will be zapped and not considered entries.

If you're wondering how what time it is in NYC right now, here's the clock


If you'd like to see the entries that have won previous contests, there's
an .xls spread sheet here http://www.colindsmith.com/TreasureChest/

(Thanks to Colin Smith for organizing and maintaining this!)

Questions? Tweet to me @Janet_Reid
Ready? SET?

Not yet!

Contest results

As usual, you guyz were in amazon form on this contest! No surprise there of course, each contest seems to get better and better.

Sadly, our own Kate Higgins had her entry dq'ed for time. (Cue wailing from professional quality mourners, and rending of garments)  Kate, it looks like you posted twice, deleted the two (maybe for a typo?) and the third and final post was at 9:02am.

Special recognition for using words I had to look up

pogonip (Kerry Bernard 9:02am)

Amontillado (D. Willadsen 10:34am)

rime (Amy Schaefer 10:47am)

luchador (Shaunna 11:26a)--which I first read as luNchador, and thought it was competitive lunching.

pogonophile (Terri Lynn Coop 5:52pm)

pomodoro (Lisa Bodenheim 8:15am)

Special recogniton for innovative use of prompt words

Hypogonadism. (Cally Orr 11:47am)

Hippo goop (Karen McCoy 1:46am

Not quite a story, but zowie, evocative!

Emalborn 9:06am

Not a story in the slightest but cracked me up completely

Steve Stubbs 12:23pm

Steve Forti does not disappoint with his dexterous use of prompt words. I tried to foil him with "pogo" but got him instead with letter! as in Let'er ride, not Lett' er ride!

AJ Blythe's entry about Steve Forti's entry cracked me up

A shark once thought she'd have the last laugh
But with letters Steve's too clever by half
"Tempo Gone" he wrote
Pleased he could gloat
“Sublime” carved the shark for his epitaph

An idea whose time has come: slalom pogo

Dena Pawling 7:55pm

Not to mention: pogo-a-gogo

John Davis (manuscript) Frain 2:01am

I'm pretty sure this is brilliant but I didn't quite get it

Lisa Bodenheim  8:15am

Long list

Just Jan 8:44pm

Scott Sloan 10:51am

Megan V 11:20am

Madeline Mora-Summonte 4:19pm

Marie McKay 5:33pm

And the short list

Timothy Lowe 9:18am

Approach plotted, Excelsior. Commence flameout.

(A murderous tempo. Going down fast.
No way to attain the speed of the last
Man to fall from the sky like a sublime lost sun -
Shot from a gaping black hole like a gun.)

You’re too shallow, Excelsior! Pull up!

(Streaming down from the stars, a diaphanous cape
Filled with burning unease and a need to escape.
It’s like killing a miracle, just give in and pull it.
It’s dancing with fireworks, ballet with a bullet.

Terminal velocity: so easy, achieved -
But beginnings are deadly if not well conceived.)

*slap!*

“Fuck off, pickup artist!”

You have to read this carefully and realize there are two points of view. One is a guy getting shot out of a cannon. (Or so I surmised. There are a couple interpretations possible.)

Amy Schaefer 10:47am

“Get up.”
“No.”
“Get out of bed.”
“No!”
She staggered as another blast rocked the building. The glowing letters on the skyscrapers outside disappeared under rime.
“Please. The city needs you.”
He hid under a pillow. “I won’t fight Captain Cold. He’s bush-league.”
She grabbed the pillow. “You petty… The city is trapped in an ice fog!”
“It’s called pogonips,” he muttered. She flared her nostrils. “What?”
She sighed. “Fine. I thought asking you was a compliment, but they’d better find someone else.” She paused. “Maybe Batman—“
Whoosh!
Lois caught her balance and smiled. “Faster than a speeding bullet.”

 This cracked me up. It's a complete story with a delicious little twist.

Cecilia Ortiz Luna 2:04pm

“Where did Mr. Hippo go?”
Michael talked about hippos . I reached for the phone inside my pocket, pressed the letter S - just as Mama taught me.

Last night, while Mama hid her laptop behind Mr. Hippo, she said Michael might show up in my room and invite me for a ride.
“He’s creepy”. I said.
“Go with him”.
“No!”
“Please, sweetheart. Do this and Papa will be gone forever”.
I like that. Gone forever - Papa, his guns, his hairy hands.
“Okay”.
Mama said she’ll find me. “Just keep Michael talking”.

“… lime sherbet.”
“That’s my favorite!”

This one stopped me dead in my tracks. At first I thought "oh no, someone is actually duplicating another entry!"  We'd never had that happen before! I was aflutter. Then I realized that far from lifting someone else's entry, Cecilia had written her story around Michael Seese's entry:

Michael Seese's entry at 9:35am

“Where did Mr. Hippo go?”

Children lack the capacity to understand “gone forever.” So you ease them into it. With a story, perhaps.

“Hippos are what's called an endangered species. To protect them a man takes them somewhere safe. Like a zoo. There they practice the letters of the alphabet. And eat lime sherbet.”

“That's my favorite!”

“It is? Imagine that. So I think Mr Hippos’s at the zoo, with his friends. Koalas, tigers ...”

“No. He's at my house. When are you taking me home?”

I imagine her parents will have trouble wrapping their heads around “gone forever” as well.

 

This is utterly brilliant and a deft feat of imagination and SPEED!, given Cecilia had to first read Michael's entry and THEN compose her own.  As I said, this knocked my socks off.

flashfriday 8:34pm

You want fellas, this is the happening place, the matchmaker says. No more boyfriend roulette.

Really??? I say.

Yep. Og—

Ogres? No way, I say. Dated those. Scars to prove it. See?

Ogres’ll never hassle you here, I was gonna say, she says. And that’s gross.

I want brawny knights, princes on horseback, fellas like that.

Huh, she says. You got expensive tastes for a scaly ol’--

Please, I say. I’m so flaming hungry.

Hungry!?

Lonely! I meant LONELY! I shout, but she’s already gone.

I weep a little for myself. Slim, exotic, gorgeous—so why’s my love life draggin?

I'm a sucker for a good pun, and anything with dragons has my vote, and Hungry? I mean lonely, just cracked me up completely.



This week it wasn't hard to pick a winner.  It's  Cecilia Ortiz Luna for her amazing imaginative work.  Cecilia wins the prize, but Michael Seese also gets a prize since he was provided the spark.

Thanks to each and every one of you who took the time to write and enter this contest. It's always a highlight of my weekend to read your work and see what new and amazing things you come up...not to mention new and amazing ways to make me laugh. You are a talented bunch, even the ones not on this list.

Contest #101

Well I think this week needs a writing contest!

How about we do one with blog reader Susan Pogorzelski's The Last Letter (which got a lovely reveiw in PW recently!) for the prize!

The usual rules apply:

1. Write a story using 100 words or fewer.

2. Use these words in the story:

last
letter
pogo (I put this one in just to see what Steve Forti will do with it!)
ease
lime

3. You must use the whole word, but that whole word can be part of a larger word. The letters for the
prompt must appear in consecutive order. They cannot be backwards.
Thus: pogo/pogostick is ok, but last/least is not

4. Post the entry in the comment column of THIS blog post.

5. One entry per person. If you need a mulligan (a do-over) erase your entry and post again. It helps to work out your entry first, then post.

6. International entries are allowed, but prizes may vary for international addresses.

7. Titles count as part of the word count (you don't need a title)

8. Under no circumstances should you tweet anything about your particular entry to me. Example: "Hope you like my entry about Felix Buttonweezer!" This is grounds for disqualification.

8a. There are no circumstances in which it is ok to ask for feedback from ME on your contest entry. NONE. (You can however discuss your entry with the commenters in the comment trail...just leave me out of it.)

9. It's ok to tweet about the contest generally.
Example: "I just entered the flash fiction contest on Janet's blog and I didn't even get a lousy t-shirt"

10. Please do not post anything but contest entries. (Not for example "I love Felix Buttonweezer's entry!")

11. You agree that your contest entry can remain posted on the blog for the life of the blog. In other words, you can't later ask me to delete the entry and any comments about the entry at a later date.

12. The stories must be self-contained. That is: do not include links or footnotes to explain any part of the story. Those extras will not be considered part of the story.


Contest opens: 9am, Saturdy, 6/17/17

Contest closes: 9am, Sunday, 6/18/17



If you're wondering how what time it is in NYC right now, here's the clock

If you'd like to see the entries that have won previous contests, there's an .xls spread sheet here in Colin Smith's treasure chest list

(Thanks to Colin Smith for organizing and maintaining this!)

Questions? Tweet to me @Janet_Reid
Ready? SET?

Not yet!

ENTER!

oopes, too late! Contest closed!

Contest results-preliminary FINAL

You guyz really come up with some good stuff on short notice.

Here are the ones that made me laugh, or made me go "awwww."

The Seasick Mermaid

He sees you when you're sleeping.
He nuzzles you awake.
He knows if your tuna is bad or good.
Hurry up with the can opener, for goodness' sake!

Brian Schwarz

Ever get that feeling someone is watching you? Can't imagine why...

BJ Muntain

Secret agent cat, secret agent cat.
They've encroached upon your naptime and posted it online.

charlogo

Gossamer's superpower: horizontal surveillance.

Steve Forti

Pssssst. Hey kid. Down here. Wanna buy some catnip?

E.M. Goldsmith

Socks and quarters - that is my mission. No matching socks. Any spare change. If a human looks, disguise myself as the cat. No word will ever be said of the lurking sock demon of the couch.

Beth Carpenter

It's there, isn't it? That rejection, waiting in my special inbox. Well, it will never find me here.

Kathi

Welcome to my new flat. I'd ask you in but...

Lisa Bodenheim

Is it safe? La Slitherina and The Wombat are ok. But Death Kitten? Watch out!

Robert Ceres

I see you.

I have a winner in mind but let me know who you think it should be. Final results around noon (Eastern Shark Time)

FINAL RESULTS

Each of these was worthy of a win, and it was very hard to choose let me tell you.

Although I only posted a snippet of BJ Muntain's entry, there was an entire song offered up. That was effort above and beyond the call of the catnip.

And I'm glad to see that many of you agreed with me. The winner this week is indeed BJ Muntain!

BJ if you'll send me your mailing address and some of the books on your wish list, I'll send you a prize!

Thanks to all of you who took the time to write entries and post them. It was a lovely break in the weekend and a serious mood elevator.  Very much appreciated by all of us who read them.

And now, back to the trenches. BEA is over. BookCon is wrapped up for a year. Time to wade into the work that arrived while I wasn't looking!

A caption contest!

I haven't been a total slacker this weekend; there's a new post up at QueryShark.
But I'm also trying to catch up on all the things not done this week when I was off revelling at BEA. Thus, no blog post here today.

So, instead, a caption contest.

{Do you recognize the paw or the nose? (It's one of our regular blog reader's kitty!)}

Post your suggested caption for this photo in the comments column. Long or short, doesn't matter.
I'll cut off the entries later today.  Contest closed (sorry!)

Of course there's a prize! It wouldn't be fun without a prize.

Final #100 contest results

I posted the preliminary results yesterday here

Herewith the final results:
 
-->

Semi-finalists

Melanie Sue Bowles

PAH 9:00am

Michael Seese

Donnaeve

FlashFriday

Robert Ceres

And here are the finalists:

Cheryl 8:39am

The landscape, graced with ferns taller than the stars, cries out in fortissimo for a mark, some proof of my final, greatest achievement.

For who would know I made it here? My time machine has dissolved to dust, victim of its own energy, and I am alone.

My signature will be a joke to anthropologists, who will no doubt scramble to decode the anachronism.

The cave will protect my work, I will descend tonight to draw gazelle in the age of dinosaurs, leave coded messages in my handprints.

Millennia from now, before I am even born, I will be famous.

I love the concept of this story (that the earliest cave paintings were done by visitors from other worlds) but I also love the voice. And that last line is simply haunting to anyone who has created art.

Lisa Bodenheim

Breakfast

He asks about her date.
Happily, she chatters.
I place the milk pitcher. By him.
“Scapegallows,” he insults. Of course. “He wouldn’t know a fortissimo from a finocchio.” He eats his cornflakes.
Our daughter gazes, blankly.
Angered, I touch her shoulder, “Fatherly humor.”
He rolls his eyes.
Stiff-backed, I sit, “Finish your breakfast, dear. How was the band?”
She shrugs.
Her cannolo remains untouched.
Damn him.
Patient, I sip my Italian Roast.
He stands—slender and handsome as ever—and scrams.
I accept his tainted kiss, airbrush-style this morning.
He leaves. Scapegoat.
And now?
Anticipation!
“How was your date?”

I love the perspective/S here. The dad is both the antagonist and still the mom's true love (slender and handsome as ever.)  And use of the word "scrams" gives us a sense that maybe dad understands what he's done here.  This is a lovely subtle piece of writing.

Beth Carpenter

Wednesday night. She’s cramming. If interrupted, she says, she might never reach the goal. He understands. As a future doctor’s spouse, he can be a time-thief or timesaver. But she has to eat. He brings her a chimichanga, zealous in his need to prove himself supportive.

A gentle knock. No answer. He knocks again. Frets. Faint from hunger? Asleep? He tries the door. Locked. Panicking, he locates the key he hid under the eaves.

Empty – her escape gracefully executed.

He sighs, glad he installed that tracker on her cell phone yesterday. She’d better be at the library. Or else.

I think it's "a gentle knock" that really sets up this very very creepy story. And of course those last two lines bring it home. This is lovely spider web construction: the story is not just what's written, it's the story between the filaments.

Lennon Faris

Horoscope: a moment today will make you a hero!
Woot!

Half marathon: I’m a gazelle!
…Silver by one millimoment.

Brother’s audition: his cape graces boulder shoulders, regal Phantom rendition. In finale, baritone voice squeaks. Audience laughs.
My 'moment?' Punch them all in the suckers?

Job interview: nail it. “Thank you, sir,” I close.
“…That’s, ‘ma’am’.”
I scram.

Candlelit proposal: girlfriend confesses moment of indiscretion, aka ‘Shawn.’

Universe has dark humor.

11:58 PM, can’t sleep. I text brother: beer fortification??
Phone gleams: sure. I’ll postpone suicide
Bah-ha. Love his morbid jokes.
And, screw you, horoscope.

Midnight: Grab keys.
Brother flushes pills.

 I just love this. It speaks to the very core of my faith: you might never know what good you do in the world, but have faith you will be put where you're needed.

Kate Outhwaite

I found a photograph of you today but the pictures in my head are better.

Your wedding day: honeysuckle scrambling over the gazebo, framing us, as you wave your bouquet at the bee circling my mother-of-the bride hat.

Or this one of Graduation. You, finished with school, chomping at the bit to make your mark on this world.

And here! 7-year old you: a tumbling, tree-climbing scapegrace; all legs and laughing independence one moment; claiming comforting knee-kisses the next.

Yes. These pictures in my head are much better than the faded polaroid of you in my arms. Perfect. Newborn. Breathless.

This took my breath away. I literally gasped aloud when I realized what that last word did to the story. This is brilliant.

Rkeelan

Every morning I escape grace and wake in an unfamiliar bed.

There's a woman next to me. We're lying side-by-side like two corpses in a double-wide coffin.

I have no idea who she is.

She's old, but beautiful. I probably know her. I hope I do.

Her gaze is on me.

I try to ignore the fortissimo beat of my heart, scrambling for something to say, something to ease the worry in her eyes.

I know I'm supposed to recognize her, but I don't.

I'm supposed to know her name, but I don't.

"Good morning, Dear. I love you."

 And it's that last line that grabbed me. It's unclear to me who is speaking, and that's the beauty of it. 

Nate Wilson

I will not beg a zebra mussel for forgiveness.

The beastly bivalves take over our lake and starve thousands, yet we're supposed to be grateful for cleaner water? No. I'm done paying.

Someone needs to take down this mollusc a peg.

"Race is a social construct," I say.

"Don't care. Apologize or owe triple the algae tomorrow."

"Stripes aside, we're not so different, you and I."

"Don't try to appeal to--"

"Except you're small."

"Careful..."

"And small-minded."

"Ooh, you're dead, Clam. Finished."

"Not yet."

With great effort, I dig in and drag myself directly at the infernal mollusc. Ramming speed!

I've come to expect hilarity from Nate Wilson; we all have in fact, I'm sure. This may be one of the best ever. It's that last line that left me laughing out loud in my apartment by myself.

 And there are pretty deft prompt word uses here. We may need to have a Steve Forti/Nate Wilson head to head competition with some kick ass prompts: scallywag comes to mind.

     

There was never a doubt in my mind about the winner this week. There were many fabulous entries; probably the best field of finalists we've seen. It was tough competition but this story, in both subtlety and grace led the field.

The winner is Kate Outhwaite.

Kate, drop me a line and let me know if you already have the map book. If you do, we'll figure out something else.  Otherwise, I'll get that out to you at once.

Thanks to all who took the time to write and enter this contest. I loved reading your work.  I wish all of you had contact info on your google sign in names cause a couple of you really piqued my interest about what you're writing and if you have an agent or are looking for one. 

Preliminary Contest #100 results

Wow! Y'all exceeded yourselves WILDLY this time.
From the great prompt words, to the entries, you just knocked my sox right off.


Here are the prompt words again:
gaze (provided by Melanie Sue Bowles)
scapegrace (provided byJulie Weathers)
scram (provided byLennon Faris)
forti (provided byMegan V)
fin (provided by the comment column on 4/26/17)

And here are the first round results:
The Steve Forti Award to Steve Forti, cause really who else even comes close?

Security had to bag a zealot last night. Tried to escape. Gr. A cell should be secure, dammit. Requesting reinforcements.
Sincerely,
CFO, R. Tiddlywinks

Get those hens in line. Scramble a few eggs if needed, so to speak. Not literally, of course. Fortify that compound, or I'll find some guards with more testicular fortitude. Fire anyone who is aloof or timid. For time is short. The big day approaches.
Sent by,
CEO, E. Bunny

We managed to escape gracefully. Unlike your impending downfall. For 'tis certain you'll never find these eggs. And vengeance hops your way.
Ex-servants,
The Free Hens

Imaginative use of prompt words

fortinet firewall. Patricia L. Shelton 9:27am
forticating whale Barbara 1:49pm

A character that begs for a novel
Colin Smith Knuckles the Emasculator.


I didn't quite get these three entries, but the writing is just lovely
Alina 10:01am
Megan V 11:44am
Her Grace, Heidi, the Duchess of Kneale 8:41pm


Words I had to look up
finocchio
scramaseax
tilmicosin
Lohikeitto


Homage to the Bard
D Willadsen 10:50am

I think this might be the best opening line in a very long time
BJ Muntain

Mrs. FasterThanLightning sat at Mrs. StrongerThanSteel's table, drinking coffee, as Mrs. S folded laundry, including her husband's red costume.

And then here comes Terri Lynn Coop to give BJ a run for her money

I gazed at my reality show team -- a chef, a clown, and a motivational consultant.

The ending here made me laugh for a solid minute
Mark Thurber 10:56am

Giant tentacles rise from pond behind gazebo as orchestra plays three fortissimo chords.

--Fin--

Not quite a story but holy moly!
abnormalalien (Jamie A. Elias) 3:22pm

Not quite a story but these cracked me up completely
Peter Taylor 8:30pm
LynnRodz 8:12am
Kitty 8:25am


Not quite a story, but lovely lyrical writing and a GREAT concept
EM Goldsmith 10:08pm


This is hilarious IF you know the sourcecode!
John Davis (Manuscript) Frain 12:07am


This isn't quite a story but the writing and imagery are breathtaking
Leilani

Fortissimama A. Capella, she a neon girl. She triangle-orange in a blue-circle world. She don’t want no dust-town life, never find a color in this old world. She scram. Saunter downcity, catch her some gaze.

Boys whistle. Boys catcall. She flip her hair and wink. They follow.

They follow down the years. It be one year, it be two years, it be ten. One by one, blue-circle girls smile at them boys. One day, nobody follow. All them scapegrace boys, they turn into dust-town papas.

Fortissimama ain’t a mama, but she still laughing neon-orange.

Here's the long list of finalists

 
-->

Melanie Sue Bowles

She adjusts my feeding tube then grabs a handful of raisins, cramming them in her mouth.

Late again, because of me.

“All set?” Her words are garbled.

I smile and nod. Wordless.

She adjusts my oxygen then waves from the door spoofing a Charlie Chaplin soft-shoe. The whoosh of the regulator settles into a comforting rhythm, but I can’t dance to it.

She navigates the city landscape, graceful as a gazelle in neon Chucks and a floral sundress. I navigate our apartment in a motorized wheelchair wearing an easy-access gown.

She adjusts her body-cam. Because of her, I live vicariously.

PAH 9:00am

One murder. Three suspects. Zero alibis. And me.

They were all there when the stubby bastard died.

The tall one, scarred, met my gaze with indifference. The other, nondescript except the obnoxious gold collar, avoided eye contact at all costs. And the slender fellow, a scapegrace in need of a trim, grinned. Discomforting.

“Wasn’t me,” they each said.

“Anyway, who put you in charge?” the Tall One asked.

Not my first rodeo, friends.

Apply some pressure; they scrambled, broke like fingers.

“Middle did it,” the small one finally squeaked.

“I’ll kill you!” Middle cried.

Thus solved the Murder of Thumb.

Michael Seese

Grandma didn't tolerate no lip.

“Some people have grace, and some just don't, dear,” she said, pouring a crisp cup of tea.

Grandma was sharp as a tack, though occasionally she'd fall prey to this faraway gaze that left her thoughts mired mid-order between scrambled and poached.

“You OK?”

“I'm fine, dear. I --”

The banging beneath my feet startled me. As always.

Grandma got down on all fours, most unladylike.

“You can't escape, Grace!” she yelled through a crack, rattling the fortified box below the floor. “So give it up!”

She glanced up and smiled.

“Now where was I, dear?”

Ashley Turcotte

The question again: “Why did you do it?”

I ignored everyone else. The doctors. My parents. But I’m ready to talk. “To escape grace.”

The new shrink frowns. Gazes at her notes. “Who’s Grace?”

“Not a person. The thing. The idea.”

She’s not getting it.

“You know. God?”

“You…don’t want to go to heaven? Why?”

I move cold scrambled eggs around my plate with a plastic spoon, wishing they’d let me have a fork. Run a finger around the bandages on my left wrist.

“For Tim.”

“Your stepfather?”

“Everyone says he’s in heaven.”

So I’d rather be in hell.

Donnaeve

We scramble towards him, two starving girls, legs like gazelles.
He’s brought food.
After we finish eating, he says to Grace, “Let’s go.”
This was the agreement. She would go
Only eight, she cries.

I don’t have the fortitude to watch them walk away.
~~~
Mama behaves as expected, using child support to buy drugs

I call the police – as planned.
“Where’s Grace?” they ask.
I cry. Play dumb.
Mama’s charged
~~~
Foster care’s okay. There’s food!
I often think, Lucky you to escape, Grace.”
Postcards come often, regular.

The foster parents are suspicious, though they’re never signed Love, Daddy and Grace.

FlashFriday

I showed him my heartsick gaze, vowed to abandon my scapegrace ways. From beneath demure faux lashes I promised to scram when he wants space, never Forti the truth, never answer a fin “nothing” when a great white “something” lurks.

So he married me.

Now he follows me everywhere. Every week-a-versary’s another (suffocating) bouquet of roses, every meal’s a (tacky) candlelit banquet, every email’s a (clichéd) Petrarchan sonnet, and even simple grocery lists are now obscured by swarms of his (immature) x’s and o’s.

Dammit.

Dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit.

Dammit.

Cheryl 8:39am

The landscape, graced with ferns taller than the stars, cries out in fortissimo for a mark, some proof of my final, greatest achievement.

For who would know I made it here? My time machine has dissolved to dust, victim of its own energy, and I am alone.

My signature will be a joke to anthropologists, who will no doubt scramble to decode the anachronism.

The cave will protect my work, I will descend tonight to draw gazelle in the age of dinosaurs, leave coded messages in my handprints.

Millennia from now, before I am even born, I will be famous.

Lisa Bodenheim

Breakfast
He asks about her date.
Happily, she chatters.
I place the milk pitcher. By him.

“Scapegallows,” he insults. Of course. “He wouldn’t know a fortissimo from a finocchio.” He eats his cornflakes.
Our daughter gazes, blankly.
Angered, I touch her shoulder, “Fatherly humor.”

He rolls his eyes.
Stiff-backed, I sit, “Finish your breakfast, dear. How was the band?”
She shrugs.

Her cannolo remains untouched.
Damn him.
Patient, I sip my Italian Roast.
He stands—slender and handsome as ever—and scrams.
I accept his tainted kiss, airbrush-style this morning.

He leaves. Scapegoat.

And now?
Anticipation!
“How was your date?”

Beth Carpenter

Wednesday night. She’s cramming. If interrupted, she says, she might never reach the goal. He understands. As a future doctor’s spouse, he can be a time-thief or timesaver. But she has to eat. He brings her a chimichanga, zealous in his need to prove himself supportive.

A gentle knock. No answer. He knocks again. Frets. Faint from hunger? Asleep? He tries the door. Locked. Panicking, he locates the key he hid under the eaves.

Empty – her escape gracefully executed.

He sighs, glad he installed that tracker on her cell phone yesterday. She’d better be at the library. Or else.

--Fin--

Lennon Faris

Horoscope: a moment today will make you a hero!
Woot!

Half marathon: I’m a gazelle!
…Silver by one millimoment.

Brother’s audition: his cape graces boulder shoulders, regal Phantom rendition. In finale, baritone voice squeaks. Audience laughs.

My 'moment?' Punch them all in the suckers?

Job interview: nail it. “Thank you, sir,” I close.
“…That’s, ‘ma’am’.”
I scram.

Candlelit proposal: girlfriend confesses moment of indiscretion, aka ‘Shawn.’

Universe has dark humor.

11:58 PM, can’t sleep. I text brother: beer fortification??
Phone gleams: sure. I’ll postpone suicide
Bah-ha. Love his morbid jokes.
And, screw you, horoscope.

Midnight: Grab keys.
Brother flushes pills.

Kate Outhwaite

I found a photograph of you today but the pictures in my head are better.

Your wedding day: honeysuckle scrambling over the gazebo, framing us, as you wave your bouquet at the bee circling my mother-of-the bride hat.

Or this one of Graduation. You, finished with school, chomping at the bit to make your mark on this world.

And here! 7-year old you: a tumbling, tree-climbing scapegrace; all legs and laughing independence one moment; claiming comforting knee-kisses the next.

Yes. These pictures in my head are much better than the faded polaroid of you in my arms. Perfect. Newborn. Breathless

Rkeelan

Every morning I escape grace and wake in an unfamiliar bed.

There's a woman next to me. We're lying side-by-side like two corpses in a double-wide coffin.

I have no idea who she is.

She's old, but beautiful. I probably know her. I hope I do.

Her gaze is on me.

I try to ignore the fortissimo beat of my heart, scrambling for something to say, something to ease the worry in her eyes.

I know I'm supposed to recognize her, but I don't.

I'm supposed to know her name, but I don't.

"Good morning, Dear. I love you."

Robert Ceres

Her head poked in, gaze full of questions. Apparently I’d stolen her fort.

“I’m sorry. Scram,” my voice weak with cold.

The dog whined, then squirmed in, warming the air enough to silence my aching, chattering teeth. I slept. Dreamed of panting, then whining, growling, biting.

Not a dream. “Ow, ouch.” I was too weak to pull away.

Barking. Angry. Harsh. She struggled to leave, kicking my stomach, turning to bark in my face. Voices approaching.

“Yo, Scapegrace! Easy. What’d you find? A—Dad? Dad!! It’s a kid.“

Bright light, the dog just whining now. Hands reaching in.

Fading out...

Nate Wilson

I will not beg a zebra mussel for forgiveness.

The beastly bivalves take over our lake and starve thousands, yet we're supposed to be grateful for cleaner water? No. I'm done paying.

Someone needs to take down this mollusc a peg.

"Race is a social construct," I say.

"Don't care. Apologize or owe triple the algae tomorrow."

"Stripes aside, we're not so different, you and I."

"Don't try to appeal to--"

"Except you're small."

"Careful..."

"And small-minded."

"Ooh, you're dead, Clam. Finished."

"Not yet."

With great effort, I dig in and drag myself directly at the infernal mollusc. Ramming speed!

The short list and the winner will be posted tomorrow at NOON (Eastern time).
Please feel free to weigh in on your faves, or what I missed, in the comment section!

Here it is! Contest #100

At long last, the day of the contest has arrived!

Contest #100!

The prize is pretty spiffy if I do say so myself. A copy of Vargic's Miscellany of Curious Maps,  which is one of my all time faves.

The usual rules apply:

1. Write a story using 100 words or fewer.

2. Use these words in the story:

gaze (provided by Melanie Sue Bowles)

scapegrace (provided byJulie Weathers)

scram (provided byLennon Faris)

forti (provided byMegan V)

fin (provided by thecomment column on 4/26/17)

3. You must use the whole word, but that whole word can be part of a larger word. The letters for the
prompt must appear in consecutive order. They cannot be backwards.

Thus: scram/scrambled is ok but scram/secret agent man is not.

4. Post the entry in the comment column of THIS blog post.

5. One entry per person. If you need a mulligan (a do-over) erase your entry and post again. It helps to work out your entry first, then post.

6. International entries are allowed.

7. Titles count as part of the word count (you don't need a title)

8. Do not tweet anything about your particular entry to me. Example: "Hope you like my entry about Felix Buttonweezer!" This is grounds for disqualification.

8a. Never ask for feedback from ME on your contest entry. There are no circumstances in which this is ok. (You can however discuss your entry with the commenters in the comment trail...just leave me out of it.)

9. It's ok to tweet about the contest generally.

Example: "I just entered the flash fiction contest on Janet's blog and I didn't even get a lousy t-shirt"


10. Please do not post anything but contest entries. (Not for example "I love Felix Buttonweezer's entry!")

11. You agree that your contest entry can remain posted on the blog for the life of the blog. In other words, you can't later ask me to delete the entry and any comments about the entry at a later date.

12. The stories must be self-contained. That is: do not include links or footnotes to explain any part of the story. Those extras will not be considered part of the story.


Contest opens: 7:25am, Saturday, May 20

Contest closes: 9am, Sunday, May 21


If you're wondering how what time it is in NYC right now, here's the clock

If you'd like to see the entries that have won previous contests, there's an .xls spread sheet here http://www.colindsmith.com/TreasureChest/

(Thanks to Colin Smith for organizing and maintaining this!)

Questions? Tweet to me @Janet_Reid
Ready? SET?

Not yet!
ENTER!

oops! Too late; contest closed.

Results will be posted on Monday 5/22

Cation contest results

Argh! Sorry for the long delay in cation contest results! I was felled by a brutal headache yesterday, brought on by staring into the computer for too long, lack of coffee, and probably the stupid weather we're having here.  Nothing to do but medicate and sleep. (Sitting up of course; with a headache I can't lie down, and that's a whole 'nother lovely bout of fun.)

Your contest entries have cheered me immeasurably this morning!  Herewith the results:

E.M. Goldsmith's entry captured cat-ness for sure

I am the cat.

No, I am the cat.

I am quite certain I am the cat.

No. There can only be one.

Yes, that's me.

as did Linda Strader's

"Well, she better be offering something good, or I'm not moving."

as did CynthiaMc's

While you're up, bring us some tuna and the remote.

as did Claire Bobrow

We are magnifique, n'est ce pas?

That was not a question.

An insult I'm adding to my repertoire, courtesy John Davis (ms) Frain

And your mother is a lynx.

Homage to the last caption contest from Colin Smith

"This isn't the entry you were looking for."
"Colin didn't enter."
"You can go about your business."
"Move along."

I was wondering what the cats were celebrating earlier this month!

Cecilia Ortiz  Luna: 

"Cinco De Meow!"

Perfection (of course) from Kate Higgins

Stereo mind reiders

Pure brilliance from Craig F:

“She makes me tired, Cation.”

“Take a couple of electrons, Anion. I’ll rub against her, replace them back by static.”

It will help to know that cation and anion are real things. This is a terrific entry on several levels and thus it is our winner today. Craig F if you'll email me your mailing address and what kinds of books you like to read, I'll get your prize in the mail.

Thanks to all of you who took the time to write and enter.  Not only were your entries fun to read, they were therapeutic as well!

caption contest results delayed

sorry guyz,
massive headache.

Cation contest!

What are these two fine felines thinking?

20 words or fewer!

One entry per person (or per cat!)

Post your answer in the comment column!

Contest opens now.

Contest closes around 7pm Eastern Shark time.

You're on your own for questions (sorry!) I'm fin deep in my requested reading stash.

Caption Contest results

Yesterday's caption contest provided some welcome comic relief to the week. Is anyone else just slogging along right now? I can't quite seem to find my joie de vivre these days, so your hilarious comments were very welcome.

Herewith the entirely subjective, and totally un-scientific results.

First, noted for his absence: Colin Smith.
Ok, so, I missed it. Honestly, I need supervision these days. This is what happens when you post things 20 minutes after you write them. I need to take my own best advice: let something sit for a while. Argh. (Sorry Colin!)


 

Steve Forti dared to go there!

Say "fiction novel" one more time. I dare you.

as did CynthiaMc

You didn't read all the queries on Query Shark.

Jennifer R. Donohue is exactly on target

I was told there'd be ham.

PAH  is both subtle and hilarious

Resting Bitch Face.

These all made me laugh out loud

Melanie Sue Bowles

That moment when your song comes on, but you're too cold to dance...

kdjames.com

You're making this whole "Man's Best Friend" thing harder than it needs to be.

As did Patricia L. Shelton , but somewhat with an ewww mixed in as well

Cover your mouth. Please.

Unfortunately for Theresa, the caption Celebrity Guest Judge was not Her Grace

All right, where's the Duchess of Yowl?

otherwise this would have been a sure fire winner!


In a Forti-esque tour de force Kitty!

Speaking of the Canon… Yeah, I lifted my leg on it. I’m a dog. What would you have done? In my defense, She said no before but now said yes “in a Twitter pitch fest.” So I asked her, “Where’s this twitter thing? I can pee anywhere.” I don’t think she heard me because she said, “When your life goes off the rails, try Twitter pitching. C’mon, let’s go home. I’ve got Some housekeeping to do. Plus, it’s time for a Caption contest!”

and in a stunning reminder of The World is Weird, this entry from Sam Hawke

If you brush the snow off right now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you and I will kill you.

was posted just about the time I was watching - for the first time mind you - the movie from which this is quoted. What are the chances?!


Hands down, not even close, the winner is Mallory Love

When you wake up and realize the 100th flash fiction contest isn't posted yet. ; )

Mallory Love if you'll email me with your mailing address and what you like to read, we'll fix you up with a prize!


Thanks to all of you who contributed captions and hilarity to this rather rainy dreary weekend.  And to Susan Pogorzelski for lending us all her wonderful Riley for the photo. 

Caption contest!

Enter your caption for this photo in the comments section below.
Of course there's a prize!

Figure the contest will close around 7pm New York time.
(Here's how to figure out what time it is in NYC)

Contest #100 looms

and we still need one more prompt word.

Aeriel surveillance commencing!

got a word in your sights?
Please, bombs away in the comments column.
The word is chosen. Of course, I'm not going to tell you what it is, I love to torment you!


And don't forget the prize for this contest is a damn good one!

#RevPit and freelance editors

What do you think of twitter pitch type contests?  The current one is #revpit where you submit to three editors a query letter and five pages and answer a few questions.
They go through them, make anon comments about the query letter and pages. They can ask for partials and fulls and end up picking one to work with for a month.
What do you think about freelance editors overall?

I think freelance editors can be terrific, and some of them aren't worth much at all. 

I have no idea how to find out which is which short of seeing what they say about your work. Except of course, the best editors often tell you things about your work that you're not all that eager to hear. As in you have six plot holes, and the tension drops to zero in chapter fourteen.

I've had very mixed results when sending writers to freelance editors but there's no way to know if that's cause the editor isn't very good or the writer didn't do what the editor suggested. 

I recently heard back from a writer whose full I'd read and thought needed a lot of work. She told me she was just going to self-publish it instead of revising.  I'm pretty sure editors have had that same thing happen.

As for Twitter pitch contests, it's not like they'll hurt you. And maybe they'll open a door for you. And maybe one of the editors will tell you your tension drops to zero in chapter 14, and you'll actually hear her and plan to revise.

In other words, there's no reason not to participate in these kinds of things. If it helps, great. If you think the advice you're getting is dreck, at least sit on it for a month before ignoring it.

Contest 99.75 results (or wrap up, really)

Honestly, I wasn't expecting anything in the comments section other than some form of ha ha but of course, as usual, you surprised me with your wit and ferociously talented writing.

The rules just had to go out the window, given the contest opened and closed at the same time, and there was no way to keep to the 100 character limitation.

So, what the hell, here are the entries that I thought stood out in some way.


The Great British Bake Off Next Idea
Jennifer R. Donohue 8:07am

parmiginano rhubarb petit-four

Homage to a classic Star Wars line
french sojourn 8:23am

My entry above is a cautionary tale of what not to do. You didn't see this comment.

It's not the comment you're looking for.

Go down to the next comment.

Let it pass.

I just loved this line.
Carolynnwith2Ns 9:23am

Failing has never been so much fun.

And poor ol' John (manuscript) Frain!
E. M. Goldsmith 11:19am

No contest. I bow to Steve Forti.

And mourn the loss of John the Manuscript Frain. It wasn't me. Yes, my air conditioner was missing between midnight and 6 AM, but I am told it only went North hoping to find friendly working conditions. After all, the South is only marginally cooler than the surface of the sun in the summer.

Amy Johnson 12:25pm

Just let that little incident with Frain teach yous all a lesson. You make a bet with me, you lose, you pay up. Accidents happen. I'm just sayin'.

Claire Bobrow 2:15pm

There was a young fellow named Frain
Whose Starbucks went right down the drain

When he turned round the bend
And met his sad end

With a Frigidaire whack on the brain.*

"I'm not even close to mere" is my new motto!
Terri Lynn Coop 11:58am

"Rhubarb is not fuel," yelled Ava Rice.

Parm Igiano smugly replied, "It is when Liverpudlian immobilization is the goal."

Carry on . . . .

F1: I know I'm over the character limit. I scoff at character limits. Rules are for mere mortals. I may be mortal, but I am not even close to mere.

F2: Rhubarb can so be used for fuel. But Parm is an arrogant asshole and won't listen to Ava. He's like Paul Ryan that way.

F3: Thank you for all the fun and these contests over the years. It's sharpened my writing and my contest winner books are treasured on my shelf.

Kate Higgins 6:27pm

Curt: I thought 9:26AEDT was 'Alternative' Eastern Daylight time :)

This  cracked me up! AEDT is Australian Eastern Daylight time, but I think alternative is MUCH better!



In an astonishing feat that had to be seen to be believed, the amazing Steve Forti not only used the prompt words, he used them backwards. I am in awe.

Steve Forti 9:43am
 
-->

“U still Republican?”
“No, I Taz. I Lib.”
“O?”
“Mm. I progressive.”
“Wait a sec. I ra-”
“Val, u raised me. But I own man now.”
“Is this cuz that new girl showed you her bra?”
“B- uh, really? No, that's stupid.”
“Well, it's something. Ur serious?”
“Ya, me opinions are nail'd up, re: vile actions by old regime.”
“Vile? U forget this new guy is on a power trip?”
“On a...? I... gi...”
“Mr. Appointed Lib Leader at loss for words?”
“Just one more. Bye.”

ec. I ra-”
“Va (avarice)

bra?”
“B- uh, r (rhubarb)

“On a...? I... gi...”
“Mr. Ap (parmigiano)

“No, I Taz. I Lib.”
“O?”
“Mm. I  (immobilization)

nail'd up, re: vil (liberpudlian)

le? U f (fuel)

No two ways about it, Steve Forti sweeps all categories on this one.

I'm not sure there's a prize worthy of this entry!

I'm going to have to really think about next year's contest if I'm going to fool any of you at all.

In the meantime, thanks to all who commented, and particularly for those of you who mentioned the value this blog has had for you. I appreciate your kind words very much. 

Now, back to the blood letting!

holy smokes you guyz!

Honest to godiva, you guyz scare me.
Throw a bunch of writerly types an April Fools Day joke contest, and what do they do?

They write entries.
Of course they do.
What the hell made me think they'd just laugh and go on their merry way?
When did this bunch EVER not do something amazing when shown an opportunity?

Well, ok then, challenge accepted.

You wrote contest entries.
I'll judge them.

But this isn't Contest #100.

It's contest #99-3/4.

Yay! A contest!

I think we need a contest!

The usual rules apply:
1. Write a story using 100 characters or fewer.

2. Use all these words in the story:
avarice
parmigiano
rhubarb
immobilization
Liverpudlian
fuel

3. You must use the whole word, and that whole word should be part of a larger word. The letters for the prompt must not be in consecutive order. They should be backwards.

4. Post the entry in the comment column of THIS blog post.

5. One entry per person. If you need a mulligan (a do-over), post again.Don't worry about spell-check.

6. Interstellar entries are allowed, but prizes may vary for those addresses.

7. Titles count as part of the word count (you should have a title; it should be a pun.)

8. Under all circumstances you should tweet something about your particular entry to me. Example: "Hope you like my entry about Felix Buttonweezer!"  This is part of the judging.

8a. There are no circumstances in which it is ok to ask for fleabags from ME. NONE.

9. It's not ok to tweet about the contest generally.
Example: "I just saw the flash fiction contest on Janet's blog and I'm so confused"

10. Please post anything but contest entries. (For example "I love Felix Buttonweezer's entry!")

11. You agree that your contest entry can remain posted on the blog for the life of the blog. In other words, you can't later ask me to delete the entry and any comments about the entry at a later date.

12. The stories should not be self-contained. That is: include links or footnotes to explain any part of the story. Those extras will be considered during the judging.


Contest opens: 7:26pm (EDT) 4/1/17

Contest closes: 9:26am (AEDT) 4/2/17

 If you're wondering how what time it is in NYC right now, here's the clock

If you'd like to see the entries that have won previous contests, there's
an .xls spread sheet here http://www.colindsmith.com/TreasureChest/

(Thanks to Colin Smith for organizing and maintaining this!)

Questions? Tweet to me @Janet_Reid
Ready? SET?




 

Writing contest? What writing contest?