AUGUST '07: ONE DAY RUN-OFF VOTE

[kailhofer]

This will be a one day run-off vote, ending 10 p.m. Central Standard Time, Tuesday, August 28, 2007.

If at the end of the contest day, all participants are still tied, I will pick the winner.

Good luck.

THE FOLLOWING ENTRIES TIED AFTER THE FIRST ROUND OF VOTING:


[center]Penguin Boy [/center]


What do you call a man with no arms, no legs, floating in a pond?

Bob.

The old joke ran through Jerry's head as he sank towards the bottom of Grenadier Pond, dragged down by the weight of his prosthetic limbs. He had arms and legs, but they were toddler-sized, too small for his body. Unfortunately, the prosthetic limb extensions that allowed him to function almost normally floated about as well as anvils.

Gotta get these damn things off...

Finally, he managed to trigger the releases on his legs and backed out of them by pushing against the bottom of the pond. His short, stubby lower limbs and torso floated upward, leaving him anchored upside down by the weight of his arm waldoes. A hard yank on a lever in each forearm released the straps and sensor pads, and then he was floating freely.

Enough light filtered down through the murky water to allow him to orient himself, and he began to paddle his way back to the surface. He'd been submerged for almost two minutes, but he was only now beginning to feel the panicky impulse to inhale that could kill a drowning man.

His head broke the surface and he took a huge, gasping breath, gagging as the fishy-smelling greenish water trickled from his hair into his mouth. Irony, thy name is Jerry, he thought. In utero gene therapy had corrected a fatal kidney disorder -- and stunted his limbs. Stunted limbs required artificial limb extensions that made it impossible for him to swim -- but let him stay submerged long enough to --

Had it been long enough?

Jerry turned slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. Smith's goons were nowhere in sight. He relaxed and began swimming toward the muddy bank of the last "natural" body of water in the city, where his would-be assassins had left his clothes and the forged suicide note.

"Whoa, dude! You picked a hell of a place to go skinny... dipping..."

Jerry froze, but decided that the the gangly, pimple-faced teenager who had been caught in the act of checking Jerry's clothes for easily-pilfered valuables looked harmless enough, in spite of the aluminum cane in one hand. He waddled toward his clothes.

The kid stared unabashedly, transfixed by the sight of a naked man with a normal head and torso -- and arms and legs better suited to a toddler. From the way he leaned on the cane, Jerry guessed that he was a misfit, too -- just not in Jerry's league.

"These clothes can't be yours," the teenager blurted. "They're --"

"Normal?" Jerry asked. "They fit okay before I took my arms and legs off."

The boys eyes widened even more.

"Prosthetics," Jerry said. "Like bionic stilts, except the arms have hands that work pretty much like real ones." Sighing, Jerry rummaged through his clothes until he found his wallet. He dug out his driver's license (with the add-on card needed to make room for all the restrictions) and showed the picture to his uninvited guest.

"Geez -- they let you drive?"

Jerry suppressed the urge to scream. "Yes. They let me drive, sometimes, with the prosthetics on."

"Where are they? You said you took them off."

"At the bottom of the pond," Jerry said. "I had to take them off or I would have drowned."

The boy nodded, then asked, "Why'd you go in the water with them on, then?"

This time, Jerry did scream. "They threw me in, you moron! They wanted me to drown, to make it look like suicide!"

The boy's face crumpled, and Jerry hoped that he wasn't going to cry. Jerry had never cried (in public) in all the years he had spent coping with being a freak, a cripple... a penguin boy. 'Penguin boy' was the one nickname he actually hadn't minded -- much -- after he had seen real penguins streaking through the water like stubby torpedoes...

"Look, I'm sorry," Jerry said. "There was no way you could have known. But I'm worth a lot of money. My parents sued the clinic that made me like this, and won, big time. Some people figured out a way they could get control of that money -- if I wasn't around."

"So they tried to kill you, and make it look like suicide? Dude, that sucks the big banana."

Jerry nodded. Then he said, "Do you have a job?"

The kid shook his head. "Just finished my mandatory school time. No job, no money for college... And a bum -- leg..." The kid blushed as he compared his 'challenge' to Jerry's.

"Wanna be my driver and personal assistant? I need someone to help me into these damn clothes -- you'll have to cut off the sleeves and pantlegs somehow -- and drive me to the nearest police station."

The kid looked at Jerry with a mixture of elation and suspicion. "What's it pay?"

Jerry laughed. "Enough. I'll pay your tuition and arrange your schedule so you can take whatever courses you want."

The kid frowned, then said, "I want that in writing. Now, how short do the sleeves have to be?"

Jerry held his arms straight out from his body. "About like so," he said. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Andy." The boy pulled a cheap Swiss Army knife clone from his pocket and began to saw away at Jerry's clothes. "Andy Morgan."

"Andy, there's a signing bonus in it for you if you have a candy bar or some gum on you," Jerry said. "I have to get this pond-scum taste out of my mouth before I puke."

Andy grinned. "Slightly-crushed granola bar, fifty credits."

Jerry feigned outrage, then said, "Deal. You can pull the creds from my wallet while I get dressed."

He just hoped that Andy would be up to the task of helping him to dodge any further attempts at assisted (and resisted) suicide. Maybe they could rig Andy's cane with a taser...

[center]The End[/center]


[hr]
[hr]

[center]ALTERED EGO[/center]


Dr. Bernard Willison’s three o’clock shuffled into the office. He was a large, powerfully built man who contrived to seem smaller by hunching his shoulders. He limped along on a shabby cane and moved like an ungainly child in overlarge shoes.

“So good to meet you, Dr. Willison, I’m Hector Diaz,” said the big man, pumping Willison’s hand vigorously.

“The pleasure is mine. Won’t you have a seat, Mr. Diaz?” said the doctor, sighing inwardly. This one probably still lived with his mother.

Diaz glanced at the closed office door behind him. He made no move to sit.

“Are you expecting someone, Mr. Diaz?”

Diaz turned back to the psychiatrist, and all at once seemed to be standing at his full height, chest out, stomach in, dark hair crowning his head like a black halo.

“Let’s get some things out of the way shall we?” said Diaz in voice full of command.

“What things?” asked Dr. Willison, feeling suddenly uneasy. In fifteen years dealing with the psychologically injured, underdeveloped, and even maimed, Dr. Willison had never felt so instantly threatened. There was something powerful about this man.

“I’m Spectacle,” said Diaz.

“As in the superhero? That Spectacle?”

“You don’t believe me and I don’t blame you.”

We had a teenage Jesus Christ in here last week, Dr. Willison almost said, but elected to hold his tongue. Instead he said, “I’ve heard hundreds of stories. And I want to hear yours.”

“Lucky for both of us, I can prove it.”

Diaz lifted Willison’s coffee table – thirty-five hundred dollars and imported from Spain - by an exposed edge. With no apparent effort, he held it at head height with one hand. Not one magazine moved.

“Wow.” It was all Dr. Willison could think to say. Of course, he had seen exceptionally strong, psychotic patients before. . .

Diaz replaced the coffee table. He smiled and began to rise towards the twelve-foot ceiling.

“The fan’s a bit dusty,” he said from above.

“I’ll – I’ll have the service clean it.”

Diaz landed next to Willison. Red beams of light issued from his eyes, setting the doctor’s apple – Willison’s lunch – aflame. Then frigid air poured from his lips to freeze it in place. The scent of roasted apples filled the office.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Spectacle?”

“First, keep my secret.”

“I’ll never tell.”

“Second, help me destroy my nemesis.”

“Whu-?”

“I’ll try to explain this in a breath.”

Willison retrieved a pen and legal pad from his huge desk. “I’m listening,” he said.

“Okay, remember when you were a kid, there’s a point where you decide what you will become?”

“A fulcrum point.”

“Yeah, so, for a kid who can fly and lift a tractor, well, that point generally involves choosing to be either a superhero or a villain. You smile, but it’s true. True as life.”

“You chose hero.”

“I never chose. I couldn’t.”

“And I take it your non-choice somehow has brought you here?”

“I became Spectacle in college, but I also became El Catceps.”

“Should I know that name?”

“Probably not. He was always a petty criminal – I never used my powers as El Catceps. He was a joy thief. He never hurt anyone - not really. He stole and he cheated and he lied. He was my outlet.”

“What happened?”

“A few months back I started losing track of time.”

“Blacking out?”

“Yes.”

“El Catceps?”

“I think so. And I think he has discovered our super powers.”

“Why do you think that?”

“He’s a petty hood, but with super powers he can steal a lot of petty crap. My apartment is filled with jet skies and skateboards and Spectacle comics.”

“Mr. Diaz, what you’re describing is serious mental illness. I may not be the best –“

“You’re all I’ve got, sir. All I’ve got. Please help me stop him.”

“There’s no quick fix. You can’t just rip your alter ego out of your body and choke him to death.”

“Then what can I do?”

Something niggled at the back of Dr. Willison’s brain. What had Diaz said about the junk El Catceps stole?

“Did you say El Catceps took Spectacle comics?”

“Oh yes. He’s always covering our bedroom with posters and 3-D lithographs. It’s embarrassing really.”

“He’s a fan,” said Willison in a whisper, more to himself than to Diaz.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Bring him here. Now.”

“I don’t know, Doctor. He might be dangerous. I can’t control him.”

“Do it.”

Diaz cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowed and his posture relaxed.

“Who’re you?” he said in a thick Spanish accent.

“The doctor.”

“What’choo want?” said El Catceps, lifting his chin.

“To introduce you to someone.”

“Who?”

“Spectacle.”

Diaz’s eyes grew wide. He looked around the room. “No one here, but us, Doc.”

“Spectacle, I know you’re there. Come out and meet your biggest fan.”

Diaz stood taller and his body seemed to expand.

“Did you defeat El Catceps?” he asked in a deep, manly voice.

“Better. El Catceps, meet Spectacle.”

For a moment Diaz stood still, his eyes glazed. Then he drew breath and El Catceps said, “Madre de Dios, it IS you!”

“El Catceps,” said the voice of Spectacle.

“Si how you know my name? You’re famous. I read all your comics.”

“We need to talk, El Catceps. And we better bring Hector along too.”

“I’m here,” said the ineffectual voice of Hector Diaz.

“Does that window open?” asked Spectacle.

“Oh, ah, yes, yes it does,” said Willison.

Diaz opened it, tossed his cane aside, and then turned to look at the doctor.

“Thanks, gracias, your help is much appreciated,” said the thief-cum-everyday-joe-cum-superhero in each of his ego voices. “I’ll make certain you’re bill gets paid.”

“Thanks,” said Willison, shocked out of his wits.

The tri-souled hero flew up and away.


[center]The End[/center]


[hr]
[hr]

[center]Memories of Charlie Finch[/center]


"Charlie always lived on the edge, then again, he had to."

That is how I began my eulogy of Charlie Finch. As I got up to speak I looked out on the small assembly made up of mostly fragile looking old men, some with canes and some with equally frail looking wives to steady them as they had for years. The only bright spot in the gray group was the little girl who lived on the other side of me. Her parents had just given her a roll of Wild Cherry Lifesavers as incentive to be good, just as my parents had done to me.

Standing behind the lectern I thought to myself how does a person get so far in life, be known by everyone, and yet nobody really knows him. I was asked to deliver the eulogy because I had been his neighbor for about the last 20 years. There had to be someone who knew him better. But I suppose you tend to keep to yourself when you are different from most folks. I then took a breath and delivered my opening line, which was greeted with a small, warm grin for all in attendance.

Most of you probably aren't familiar with Charlie Finch. You see, Charlie was thin, and I don't mean skinny. I mean thin. Paper thin in fact. About, as thick as three playing cards stacked up. None of us know how he got that way, figured he probably was asked that all his life, and no one wanted to bother him. I always hoped that someday he might tell me, but, kind of late for that now.

I assume he always was that way. On one of the rare occasions that he spoke of his childhood, he talked about being a lonely child. Never did mention any brothers or sisters, or did he ever talk about his parents much. 'Bout the only thing I remember is he was talking about getting a bike, used of course, 'cause times were hard back then. He said a couple of the kids that he did kind of hang around with would put baseball cards in the spokes for kind of a motorcycle sound. 'Course Charlie didn't need a card, he would just put his hand in the spokes. Said it tingled more than hurt, like when your hand falls asleep. Unless he did it a lot, then his hand would be all sore and bruised. That, and he mentioned that no one would play hide and seek with him. I supposed he could just slide under the couch, or behind the 'frig, or just stand there, he would have been tough to see.

Charlie would talk about his college days once in awhile. I asked him once if he dated much in college and he said 'No, the girls all thought he was shallow.' I said to him he had to be a little more thick skinned. He said 'where?' He said he made some money in school being a model. Not a clothes model, but like a cardboard cut-out pointing at or holding a product. He did say he loved to scare little kids. Just stand still 'til they walk real carefully up to him and he would jump out and grab them. Anyway, he never finished school 'cause he dropped out at the end of his sophomore year. Mentioned something about a late spring party and making a kite.

He ended up being a locksmith after the post office job didn't work out. He had started as a janitor, but was moved up to maintenance after they installed the first automatic cancelling machine. Seems the machine wasn't working right and someone jokingly asked Charlie if they could send him through so he could maybe see what was wrong. He said the ink tasted terrible and it took a couple weeks to get the ink off his face. He quit shortly after there was talk about promoting him to "Inspector" and rolling him up in a mailing tube and mailing him places so he could see and feel how the mail was being treated. Anyway, he had been a locksmith as long as I knew him. Even after he retired people would still bring locks and stuff to his house. Most times he did it for free, some sort of pay back for when he was working. His specialty was unlocking houses and he always said he felt a little guilty for taking people's money. Said he would go to the house and fiddle around with the knob until the people got tired of watching and when they looked away he would just slide himself under the door, or stuff himself through the mail slot, and unlock the door.

Now Charlie was a pretty civic minded person. He belonged to most of the clubs in city, though not a very active member. But if the cause involved kids in someway, he would be all in on that. He just loved kids, the little neighbor girl even called him "Thin Grandpa Charlie". Everybody was pretty surprised though when they went through his will after he died. He left a whole bundle of money for a park for the kids of this city. He wrote 'you can save a lot of money when you can just wear a picture of clothes instead of actually having to buy the clothes'. People were also surprised to read that his real goal in life was to be a cop. He went on to say that he had to quit the police academy because the hand-to-hand combat instructor was going to fail him because all Charlie could do was give him paper cuts.

It took a couple of city council meetings to decide how to honor Charlie. It was decided to laminate Charlie with a picture of the police uniform and place him in a cardboard cut-out painted up to look like one of the police cars. The whole thing would then be placed near the new park as a reminder to people to slow down and watch out for kids.

After his death, Charlie Finch got to realize his life's dream. He finally became part of that thin blue line.


[center]The End[/center]

[Robert_Moriyama]

It will be interesting to see if we get 16 - 19 votes this time, and if so, how votes from the three runners-up are re-allocated... (My second choice didn't make the cut. so I have to think about what to do with my Guest vote. (I take cash, negotiable bonds, and major credit cards.)

RM

[doc]

It will be interesting to see if we get 16 - 19 votes this time, and if so, how votes from the three runners-up are re-allocated... (My second choice didn't make the cut. so I have to think about what to do with my Guest vote. (I take cash, negotiable bonds, and major credit cards.)

RM

Given the variable nature of how the polling software handles multiple votes, I think it would be best if you didn't think about having a "guest" vote.

Given that this is a runoff, casting two votes is hardly cricket anyway.

I have a long and vitriolic rant, laced with profanity, that details what I think of the very *concept* of voting twice, but I will spare you all having to read it. (Hint: I'm not for it.)

Vote Early. But Please Do Not Vote Often. Or Even Twice.

[Robert_Moriyama]

I guess Rob wouldn't like the election reform proposal that will be included in the upcoming Ontario (Canada) provincial election*... Or any system that allows for 1st choice, 2nd choice voting.

I would not (and have not) voted for MYSELF twice, but have usually voted for myself plus my favorite among other entries. (In a sense, I cancel myself out anyway, but a "seed" vote seems to increase the likelihood of receiving more votes -- sometimes.)

(*In addition to the first-past-the-post seats, the proposal is to have additional seats allocated based on the percentage of the popular vote received by a party. Hence a party that had no riding (district) candidates garner the highest number of votes but which got 30% of the overall popular vote would get 30% of these "at large" seats. The good thing about this is that it ensures that every vote counts to some degree; the bad thing is that it makes it likely that there will be minority governments, prone to defeat if the other parties gang up purely out of a desire to force another election.)

So -- Rob -- have we had a sudden spate of new members registering? From what you have said, that would allow multiple votes from the same IP address (and potentially by the same person).

[doc]

I guess Rob wouldn't like the election reform proposal that will be included in the upcoming Ontario (Canada) provincial election*... Or any system that allows for 1st choice, 2nd choice voting.

Actually, I'd love a system that allowed for true Preferential (Australian) Balloting, such as is done on the Hugos. But the system we have doesn't have that possibility.

I would not (and have not) voted for MYSELF twice, but have usually voted for myself plus my favorite among other entries. (In a sense, I cancel myself out anyway, but a "seed" vote seems to increase the likelihood of receiving more votes -- sometimes.)

Well, I'm still against it *within the confines of the voting system we currently have*.

So -- Rob -- have we had a sudden spate of new members registering? From what you have said, that would allow multiple votes from the same IP address (and potentially by the same person).

It's impossible to tell, with the amount of spammer registrations. But I haven't noticed any spate of new users *voting*, so I don't think that's happening, and I hope it won't. This is a really nifty project, and I'd hate to see someone ruin it for something as trivial as ego.

[kailhofer]

Given the variable nature of how the polling software handles multiple votes, I think it would be best if you didn't think about having a "guest" vote.

Given that this is a runoff, casting two votes is hardly cricket anyway.

I have a long and vitriolic rant, laced with profanity, that details what I think of the very *concept* of voting twice, but I will spare you all having to read it. (Hint: I'm not for it.)

Vote Early. But Please Do Not Vote Often. Or Even Twice.

I appreciate your point, but I really don't wish to stop giving the option of guest votes.

It is easy to send a reference pointer to friends or family, so they can read the stories. New participation is one of the goals of this contest, so I do not want to make those new people become members before they can vote. A great many of them won't, defeating the purpose.

Given that we need guest votes to help attract a bigger community, then it is impossible with the current software to stop members from also voting as a guest on a separate network. Honor systems don't work. Eventually, temptation wins out. Therefore, I feel it is best to embrace the 'second vote as a guest' possibility, and just go with it.

As I said, I appreciate your feelings on the matter, and I realize that this contest can be run only through your continuing good graces. However, with all due respect, as the person running this contest, I am the one who chooses whether or not guest voting is allowed.

I'm trying to build a bigger community, and help the existing one to continue to be creative, as well as sharpen their skills.

There are two writers this time who have not submitted to previous challenges, one of whom has never submitted a story anywhere, to any magazine. The plan seems to be working, so I'm not about to shake it up without a really good reason.

Nate

[doc]

Nate,

My comments were not intended as an Editorial Opinion, and I do of course defer to your judgment s the person actually running the contest. My comments were intended simply as a personal opinion, and carries no more weight than anyone else.

I think the value of guest voting greatly outweighs the problems of double voting, but I still wish people wouldn't double vote. It's gauche, and a mark of poor breeding. (Just kidding. I just personally dislike it. *grin*)

[Robert_Moriyama]

Hmm. "Gauche" is French for "left". The Latin for "left" is "sinister". So at long last I have achieved my ambition of being sinister. (The Canadian comedy team "Wayne and Shuster" had a sketch based on Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar" in which the Roman commander keeps the marching cadence by chanting "sinister, dexter, sinister, dexter, ...")

Here's a complicated scheme that would confuse everybody: Set up two parallel polls. In one, readers would place a "first place" vote; in the other, they would place a "second place" vote. The overall winner would be based on "first place" votes, but in the event of a tie, "second place" votes would be considered. (If there was a two-level tie, the system would launch the beeyotchslap_noogiebomb virus, changing users' home pages to a Three Stooges tribute site.)

RM

[kailhofer]

Nate,

My comments were not intended as an Editorial Opinion, and I do of course defer to your judgment s the person actually running the contest.  My comments were intended simply as a personal opinion, and carries no more weight than anyone else.

I think the value of guest voting greatly outweighs the problems of double voting, but I still wish people wouldn't double vote.  It's gauche, and a mark of poor breeding.  (Just kidding.  I just personally dislike it. *grin*)

I figured you really didn't mean it like that, but it's not the first time your passion over this subject has... how shall I put it... escaped.

Water under the bridge. All friends again.

Nate

[kailhofer]

Just over 4 hours remaining...

Don't forget to vote!

[Robert_Moriyama]

Hmm. Even if I don't cast a second vote, we would be expecting up to 18 votes in total, meaning 5 more potential votes. It's still anybody's game ...

:-?

[kailhofer]

It's official. It is a two-way tie between Robert Moriyama for Penguin Boy and David Alan Jones for Altered Ego. Runner up goes to a very good friend and a fellow I worked next to for more than two years, Daniel Popple, for Memories of Charlie Finch.

The full list of this month's entries was:
Penguin Boy by Robert Moriyama
Altered Ego by David Alan Jones
Memories of Charlie Finch by Daniel Popple
The Promise by Jaimie L. Elliott
Good Help is Hard to Find by Bill Wolfe
Luna Sea by G.C.Dillon

Thank you to all the entrants for a great batch of stories.

Personally, I'd like to extend a special thanks to my friend Dan. I was very proud to have his story in this competition. After I told him about the challenge, he was inspired enough to write what (I believe) was his first story since high school, and certainly the first story sent to any kind of magazine or contest. Everyone at work and at home was pulling for you. (BTW "Finch" is the name of a kind of paper we print business cards on.)

Now, I would like to invite everyone to comment on the stories. I'm sure the authors are dying to hear from you.

Nate

PS. Be looking for the next Flash Challenge on the 9th of next month.

[Robert_Moriyama]

A TIE? All those not-very-veiled threats, all that intimidation, and it's a TIE? This kind of result really shakes my faith in thuggery as a campaign tactic.

However, I would like to thank the little people who supported me -- yes, I mean leprechauns. Persons of Dubious Reality (viz. Jasper Fforde's "Jack Spratt" books) have always been my "base" (as unscrupulous executives are Dubya's).

Re: "Altered Ego",

The "Spectacle" / "El Catceps" thing kinda bugged me -- anyone who knew Spanish would know that "Catceps" isn't a Spanish word (and has an unfortunate resemblance to "catsup", a.k.a. ketchup). From there, one would expect that people would notice that "El Catceps" was "Spectacle" spelled backwards. Oh well -- if combing his hair differently, slouching, and wearing glasses could prevent Lois from realizing that Clark and Superman were the same person, I guess a pseudo-Spanish accent could work, too.

The triple personality thing was a bit reminiscent of a recent Marvel comics character called The Sentinel, whose arch-enemy turned out to be a dark manifestation of his own powers (and whose civilian identity was (for a time) unaware of his heroic and villainous counterparts). Of course, only a current comics reader would know that. And the instantaneous "cure" of the multiple personality disorder seemed a little too easy. Now, if the same plotline was expanded into a longer story, even a novella or series ...

(Sorry, David ... superheroes are near and dear to my heart, so I tend to be hypercritical of stories in which they appear.)

Re: "Memories of Charlie Finch"

This was definitely the funniest entry, and may have been the best in the sense of developing a "great character". Charlie Finch, a fellow with an odd handicap (oddly useful at times) made the best of the thinly-sliced lemons handed to him by Life. The only thing that prevented me from voting for this one was its posthumous tale-telling structure -- it was all "tell" and no "show".

RM

[kailhofer]

A TIE? All those not-very-veiled threats, all that intimidation, and it's a TIE? This kind of result really shakes my faith in thuggery as a campaign tactic.

RM

Yeah, well maybe you can stop grumbling now... ;)

I said I'd tell you what I received in feedback about your story by the folks in my neck of the woods, so here goes: The people I talked to about your story all agreed that they liked how it started off best, but then were turned off by the lack of closure at the end. That he and Andy were going off to face new challenges made it sound only like an opening chapter instead of a complete story. 3 different people told me they would have voted for yours if it had ended instead of carrying on.

Perhaps it's a cultural thing, with all the beer and cheese, but it's not just me.

Of course, in fairness, most of these people were rooting for Charlie Finch...

Nate

[doc]

I really enjoyed Penguin Boy. But I did not vote for it.

I know this is something that is inherit to the form, but Penguin Boy was a fantastic beginning of a story. Unfortunately, it left me with too much "but...what happens next?" feeling to make it my top pick.

I'm curious if the author of "Charlie Finich" was familiar with Jeff Brown's classic children's book "Flat Stanley". I found it a delightful read, regardless.

[Robert_Moriyama]

I really enjoyed Penguin Boy.  But I did not vote for it.

I know this is something that is inherit to the form, but Penguin Boy was a fantastic beginning of a story.  Unfortunately, it left me with too much "but...what happens next?" feeling to make it my top pick.

I'm curious if the author of "Charlie Finich" was familiar with Jeff Brown's classic children's book "Flat Stanley".  I found it a delightful read, regardless.

Hmm. It's interesting that the "more like a beginning than a complete story" criticism wasn't applied to "Altered Ego" as well. After all, the newly-integrated three-in-one personality was starting on a whole new life. I do see that "Penguin Boy" left the current problem (beyond surviving the murder attempt) of dealing with the would-be assassins open, but they WERE heading for a police station to report what had happened. Presumably, that would have removed the Bad Guys from control of Jerry's finances ...

It's that goldurned 1000 word limit -- most of the stories entered could have been benefited from more room to develop the characters, depict the world, and/or carry on with the plotlines. (This is a hint -- anyone who wants to submit expanded (or even "as is") versions of Challenge entries is welcome to do so. Nate, that includes your "example" stories.)

RM

[kailhofer]

Thanks for the competition. The stories present an entertaining change from the never-ending novels at home. I really dislike the idea of 'double-voting' , but Robert's last idea wasn't half-bad.... The true goal of increasing the community has to win out. Have fun writing....why do writers always have be published, or win a contest to feel successful? Leave the egos and the 'I have to be the best or I'm never going to be published ' attitude and ENJOY!

Just 2 cents......

Kyras

First off, welcome to the forum/lettercolumn. It's always nice to see a new face, and you're welcome (from everyone involved).

Sorry I didn't answer last night. Many things to do.

As I understand your question, you wanted to know why writers quest for publication or need to win contests to feel fulfilled. I'm going to guess from the way you worded your statement that you're still on earlier stages of the writer curve. I apologize if that is not so.

I can't speak for everyone, but my own experience was that writers past a young age need to have something in it for them to give the effort. I wrote like crazy in high school, mostly because someone told me I couldn't, with creativity coming out of my ears. In college, I started to get hooked on the feeling you get when people really like your story and tell you so--plus I managed to use those stories to fulfill class requirements and get an easy A. Eventually, I started wanting to reach a bigger audience and to have publication credits to my name.

I don't think I'm alone in this. Writing is a tremendous effort in time and resources, particularly after you're married, have kids, and a career (and need to keep all of those things working). If a contest will give you a result big enough to cover the "cost", then you do it. Or, if an exercise like these challenges will help you improve your writing (and therefore improve the product you wish to sell), you jump at it.

It's true, sometimes everyone will write just for the fun of it, but if it helps makes you a better writer or a more recognizable name, contests and publications tend to rate higher on the priority scale.

You say "never-ending novels"... Sounds unhappy. Maybe you should try writing a flash piece. 8-)

Anyhow, welcome.

Nate

[kailhofer]

It's that goldurned 1000 word limit -- most of the stories entered could have been benefited from more room to develop the characters, depict the world, and/or carry on with the plotlines. (This is a hint -- anyone who wants to submit expanded (or even "as is") versions of Challenge entries is welcome to do so. Nate, that includes your "example" stories.)

RM

Well, I do recall that the 1st draft of the example was 1600 words, and did explain some things better, but the short version does a much better job of getting to the point and telling only what needed to be told. On top of that, it got better as it got smaller. Rewriting to say things more succinctly has great power to it. Flip side, chopping that last 150 words was hard. Stupidly, I kept changing the original, so this is what there is.

As for "as-is", I dunno. I like being published, don't get me wrong, but isn't it a bit much to expect people to want to read one of my stories right after they read it in the Lettercol? Sure, I thought they were fair tales, but I don't want to be presumptuous.

Nate

[kailhofer]

My college English professor believed Flash Fiction needed to be a self-contained story with beginning, middle and end.

I think I'd agree with your professor, at least to be a very good one. I'm not a big fan of slice of life/unresolved stories.

IMO it's probably a good rule of thumb for any written piece, regardless of size.

Then again, I could go for an implied ending, like in a horror/suspense story where you're sure the character is going to bite the dust but you'd rather be spared the gory end.

Nate