Friday

Drabble Contest

This week I've been talking about short stories, and I think the time has come for us to practice them. So, I'm going to do a Drabble contest this week. A drabble is a short story of exactly 100 words (not including the title). That means your entry has to be exactly 100 words (plus title). Not 99, not 101, but exactly 100 words. Challenging, I know.

And just to make it more interesting, you have to use your #storystarts entries as well. The title of your story will be the #storystarts entry from this week, and you must at least mention your Egyptian God #storystarts from a couple of weeks ago.


Now, I realize not that many people entered the #storystarts this round, and for this one contest that is OK. Make up an Egyptian God and a title and go ahead and submit your story. However, from this point on, I plan to run a blog contest incorporating the #storystarts contest entries every few weeks. In order to enter those contests, you will have to have entered the related #storystarts. And the blog contests' prizes will always be something like critiques or a chance to query or submit even though submissions are closed.

And that leads me to the prize for this week: A free conference-style critique of the first three chapters of any children's manuscript you may want reviewed. (Or if you prefer, three picture book manuscripts.) This will be the same kind of critique you would get from me at a conference (without the in-person part) or if you had hired me to do the same. (Yes, I am a freelance editor although because I'm busy, I don't do a lot of outside work.)

To enter this contest, paste your title and 100 hundred word Drabble into the comments field below. This is not a critique board, so don't comment on other people's entries. Merely submit your own. You have until 11:59 CST Sunday night to get your entry up, and I will select the winner on Monday or Tuesday.

I know just how hard it is to write a full short story in 100 words, so I wish all of you the best of luck!

14 comments:

B.N.Lippy said...

OM Gosh. Okay, I'll give you a laugh for the day. I've spent the last two days working on a short story to go with my twitter title. I finally have it down to 500 words when I check your blog this morning. UGHH!!

The Buried Editor said...

I actually suspected people might, which is one of the reasons that I made it a drabble instead of just a micro-fiction. (The other reason is 100 words is so much faster to read.)

However, you already have a plot in mind, so you're actually ahead of the game. If you think of the 500 word story as an outline and try writing the story again from scratch, you'll probably find that not only do you have a decent story, it's not as hard as you thought it would be.

Estela said...

HALF BAKED

I opened the carton and groaned. "One egg is not enough."

I prayed to Recipe, the Egyptian goddess of the kitchen. Just then, the doorbell rang. My neighbors. "We're leaving town. Could you use some eggs?"

"Absolutely!"

Then I couldn't find chocolate chips. I prayed to Recipe again.

"Cool." yelled my brother a moment later. "A chocolate bar under the sofa cushions!"

"I need that."

I mixed, put everything in the oven, and turned on the TV.

"What's that burning smell?"

Suddenly, Recipe appeared. "You are hopeless, even for a mortal. Here's some money. Go buy yourself an ice cream."

NolaGirl said...

Once Upon The End

Omega sulked in a cave. Why was she always the last to be invited to the balls? Why did everything come to a complete stop when she arrived? Why couldn’t she be like Alpha, who was always first? When Alpha appeared, babies were born, flowers bloomed, and romances begun…blah, blah, blah!

Omega thought of a plan. She asked Alpha to help her write a story. Alpha wrote the first words, and Omega patiently waited. Alpha spun a tale, etched it on a tablet, and then, it was Omega’s turn. She wrote, “The End”.

Forever, she would have the last word!

Amy said...

Anyway You Slice It

One pizza, six slices, five friends.

Robert says, "I'm the oldest. I should get two."

Our voices chorus, "That's not fair."

Glares shoot across the table. Hands hover over the slices like gunslingers about to grab their guns. Steam beads our palms, but no one flinches.

Before blood is shed, I pray to Shahotep, goddess of peace. An idea strikes.

I open my phone and all eyes snap to me. I hit speed-dial.

"Come on over," I say.

A minute later, John strolls in and says, "Hey! Pizza!"

Pizza-- even one slice-- is delicious. Peace among friends is even better.

ghconover said...

Cupcake Supernova

The cupcake had an unnatural grip on the boy. The Guinness Book officials could see it as they fled the rooftop.

Seth refused to abandon the colossal confection to the storm. The sky was dark as black forest batter, but he scurried for each enormous splat of icing that whipped loose.

Lightning struck. Seth screamed not out of fear, but for the horror of exploding sponge cake.

It rained fire and sprinkles. The boy stood and faced the disaster. But the face that greeted him had eyes that glittered like sugar.

“Hello, Seth,” oozed Icisis, Goddess of Frosting.

ghconover said...

I tried to delete the above post but was not successful. It is 98 words without the title. If I'm not DQ'ed, I'd like to submit the 100-word version . . .


Cupcake Supernova

The cupcake had an unnatural grip on the boy. The Guinness Book officials could see it as they fled the rooftop.

Seth refused to abandon the colossal confection to the storm. The sky was dark as black forest batter, but he scurried for each enormous splat of icing that whipped loose.

Lightning struck. Seth screamed not out of fear, but for the horror of exploding sponge cake.

It rained fire and sprinkles. The boy looked into the face of the disaster. But the face that greeted him had eyes that glittered like sugar.

“Hello, Seth,” oozed Icisis, Goddess of Frosting.

NolaGirl said...

Since I had two titles for my storystarts and I'm not sure which one won, I am posting my second story for the seocond title. I hope that is okay.

BEDTIME BRIEFS
Sandman, the Egyptian god of sleep, was tired of working the night shift. He decided to complain to his supervisor, Ra, the sun god.

“You have to find a replacement for me. I’m tired of working every night for whiny kids, who refuse to let me do my job. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a toddler to sleep? They don’t want me. They want their bottles and their mommies. They want blankies, noo-noo’s, bedtime stories, lullabies, and everything else, but me. Ra—are you listening to me?”

Ra didn’t answer. He was fast asleep.

NightSkyWriter said...

Don’t Go Home Your Mother Found Out

“No, the bus already,” sighed Jordan, “Another day of useless school. More lectures, more feeling stupid…”

“Don’t get on that bus,” came a whisper from seemingly nowhere. Jordan turned. “Make a dash for the woods,” commanded the invisible Egyptian God of Mischief FAH-LALA.

Moving like lightning, he came to a flowing creek whose hypnotic sound made for a good long nap. Then an afternoon of junk food and playing games at the arcade.

Jordan tried to blend in as others emptied the bus. Tommy shook his head with grief, “They called your mom. You want to be buried or cremated?”

Susan Oloier said...

The Basement Thing

Thunder cracks. Lightning illuminates the staircase. Ben tries the switch. Nothing.

“Cara said…”

“Totally made up.”

The stairs creak. The air chills. There’s a smell of dampness and a hint of mothballs. Ben tugs an ankh from his shirt, holds it up.

“What’re you doing?”

“Warding off spirits.”

“With an Isis symbol? Get real. You’re thinking of a cross.”

A skitter; Ben makes for the stairs. Sherri grabs his hand. He holds back, relaxes.

“Come on.”

The door opens. Hands drop.

“Got the soda yet or what?”

“Coming.”

Darkness. Ben takes Sherri’s hand and pulls her close.

Susan Oloier said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
B.N.Lippy said...

The Book of Yet to Come

Ryan is drawn to a worn leather book with no publisher or author listed.

Under the title on the first page he reads the following, “Ryan opens the book and sees no publisher or author. Curious, he watches as each word appears.”

“Ryan, this book is not for you,” says the librarian quietly. “It’s mischievous and from a different time.”

Ryan looks up with glazed eyes.

She takes the book.

“Here’s a book about Omm Ali Cocoa you’ll enjoy.”

The spell is broken when the book leaves his hands

He won’t remember the mysterious book; until it finds him again.

Lynn A. Davidson said...

(I hope I'm not too late, my computer and then Blogger wouldn't cooperate!)

Writer's Blocks

It was getting late, nearly the deadline.
“Oh dear, what am I going to write? I have nothing!” she fretted as a storm raged outside her window.
Then she heard a whisper, a sweet breath in her ear.
“Of course! That's my problem! My muse hates to be left out of the creative process. Please forgive me, Vaketti”, she begged the Egyptian writing goddess.
A rush of words immediately filled her head, a story stretching beyond her best imagining.
Suddenly .. clunk!
“Um … Vaketti? You wouldn't know the name of the god of electricity, would you?”

The Buried Editor said...

Congratulations to Estela and BN Lippy for being finalists. Both of you can feel free to campaign for your stories as much as you like.