Due 2/14: Writing Assignment

[dorkelf]

Assignment guidelines: Your character got dumped last Valentine's day. What happens this year?

Submit your assignment of 500 words or less by posting it here, or pm it to me and I will post it for you anonymously. Everyone who submits is required to critique another entry. (Critiquing needs to be more than a simple complimentary remark - the more detailed and specific the better. See the critiquing thread for more details.) Voting will open on the due date and run for 1 week. WE NEED EVERYONE POSSIBLE TO PARTICIPATE in order to make this a meaningful contest for everyone. So please submit, critique, vote, anything you can do. GL and HF!

Paul

[tjguitarz]

Oops! I forgot to do my critiquing last contest. I'll make up for it this one.

And I'm going to love this assignment. It's so open ended... heh... can you smell the ninjas coming?

[Lazarus]

Ninjas? ooh...

George Lewis and Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall ?

[Lazarus]

Title: That really weirded me out.

I used to love watching Pirates of the Caribbean. That’s the movie I was taking my girlfriend to last year - on St. Valentine’s Day. And she dumped me, just like that.
We had a silly argument - over my shoes, of all things. I don’t even remember what exactly the argument was about.

I was very angry; so angry I vowed I’d never speak to her again.

So why - a year later, am I standing on her doorstep with two tickets in my pocket for PotC II? Well, that’s a long story…

My friend Arch told me something very profound a long time ago. He said, “Joey my boy, a woman ain’t worth the powder to blow her to bits.”
He was a bitter man, Arch was. I guess getting dumped by his girlfriend eight times in a row would be pretty depressing though.

Anyway, I was sitting on my bed stewing, after she dumped me. Suddenly I realized something.
There was Bruce Lee, standing in the doorway.

He ripped off his shirt and said to me, “Kid, I’m gonna give you the worst beating you’ve ever had in your life.”

I immediately turned toward the window - and Chuck Norris crawled through it. He climbed through, got up, and said to me, “Kid, I’m gonna give you the worst beating you’ve ever had in your life.”

Then Bruce says, “No, I am!” And Chuck replies, “You and what army?” And Bruce snaps, “Me, myself and I, punk.” And with that they leaped on each other.

I was rather relieved to be - at least temporarily - saved from a beating, so I sat still and watched them go at each other. It was awesome. Bruce swirling his nun chucks around - Chuck kicking them out of his hand - Bruce ax-kicking Chuck in the shoulder - Chuck wrestling Bruce down - and the fight went on.

Finally Chuck rolls away and gets up, panting. His eye is turning black, his lip is bleeding, and he’s got two broken bones in his leg. Bruce has a bloody ear, several assorted bruises around the chin region, and one of his hands look like it was run over by a steamroller.

“What were we fighting about anyway?” Bruce asked. Chuck shrugged. “I don’t remember.”
Then they laughed and started for the door arm-in-arm, with me watching in astonishment.

“Kid,” Chuck said over his shoulder. “Let this be a lesson to you - never let stupid arguments turn into big fights. It can cause injuries that don't heal.”
I knew he was right. I woke up a few seconds later and realized that it had been a dream, but some dream! :cool:

I went over to my ex-girlfriend’s house and apologized. Another Valentine's Day rolled around - and here we are at the movie theater. ;)

Shhh, the lights are dimming.

[ChickenSoup]

The cold winter wind caused my overcoat to flutter. I looked around, feeling depressed. I remembered the last time I had come here--I had taken my old girlfriend on a walk through the park. I also remember what eventually happened that chilly afternoon...

I remember it as though it had happened only moments earlier. We had walked through the smallish park, trying to spot what little wildlife would come out in the single-digit weather. She acted as though she was having a good time, but the air around her was tense. She flinched when I took her hand in mine, and the impression was not lost on me. I pulled her aside, thinking that I had done something wrong. It turned out that she had fallen in love with someone else, and although she would be happy to stay friends, she would prefer to keep it at that.

I never saw her again.

So this February I strolled down the same little lane that had taken my heart away a year before. It seemed even colder today, and it wasn't just because of the temperature. I felt somewhat depressed as I kicked half-heartedly at a mound of snow on the gravel path, and I sat dejectedly at the first bench I could find. It was cold and icy, but I didn't care. I was reveling too much in my self-pity.

And as though on cue, a small break in the clouds parted and a single beam of sunlight shone through the dreary morn and landed on my lap. I looked upwards, and for reasons I cannot explain I felt a surge of boundless joy, as though my less than perfect memories has melted away like the ice on my bench.

I stood, brushed the dusty snow off of my coat, and continued on my day, happier than I had felt in a long time. I guess God works in ways we never expect.

[tjguitarz]

Ahhh! I'm falling behind! But wow, you guys posted quick and they're good! I'm impressed. I'll post a full critique once I have time.

[Lazarus]

Well, guess I should critique C$'s now.

The cold winter wind caused my overcoat to flutter. I looked around, feeling depressed. I remembered the last time I had come here--I had taken my old girlfriend on a walk through the park. I also remember what eventually happened that chilly afternoon...


Switching between present and past tense?
Eventually sounds like you were walking through the park for hours and hours. ;)
"I also remembered what happened that chilly afternoon...".


So this February I strolled down the same little lane that had taken my heart away a year before. It seemed even colder today, and it wasn't just because of the temperature. I felt somewhat depressed as I kicked half-heartedly at a mound of snow on the gravel path, and I sat dejectedly at the first bench I could find. It was cold and icy, but I didn't care. I was reveling too much in my self-pity.

Okay, by this time I felt like punching your character in the nose because he was such a depressing person. ;) Nice description of his mood.


And as though on cue, a small break in the clouds parted and a single beam of sunlight shone through the dreary morn and landed on my lap. I looked upwards, and for reasons I cannot explain I felt a surge of boundless joy, as though my less than perfect memories has melted away like the ice on my bench.


You might put "appeared" there instead of "parted" - it sounds kind of strange. The analogies were again, quite good. ;)


I stood, brushed the dusty snow off of my coat, and continued on my day, happier than I had felt in a long time. I guess God works in ways we never expect.


Perfect description of a teenager's mood swings. :) He's depressed for ten days and then just like that - some sun hits his lap and "WOOHOO! I'M HAPPY AGAIN!"


(Whew - done. I hate critiquing, as you can probably guess. :rolleyes: )

[ChickenSoup]

Thanks Laz--a good critique helps me improve my grammar.

Also, I can't believe I did that with the verb tenses. AUGH!

Okay, by this time I felt like punching your character in the nose because he was such a depressing person. ;) Nice description of his mood.


Yeah, I don't like him either. That's why I killed him off in the sequel "Robot Calculator Invasion"

[Lazarus]

HURRAY! Can you post it? :D

[dorkelf]

The cold winter wind caused my overcoat to flutter. I looked around, feeling depressed. I remembered the last time I had come here--I had taken my old girlfriend on a walk through the park. I also remember what eventually happened that chilly afternoon...

Bravo C$, you used this writing assignment as an opportunity to transcend your normal 'style' and write something very different and very beautiful. I was moved by how your character is able to see God through the beauty of a beam of sunlight and how that brings comfort to him. This is exactly how God reveals Himself to me.

Your work reminds me that not all human stories have happy endings, but they do have sequels. Every one of them. And the writer of the sequels to all our stories has no need to reach any ending, because He never sleeps and His pen-hand never tires. He just keeps writing and writing and writing..

Paul

[ChickenSoup]

Bravo C$, you used this writing assignment as an opportunity to transcend your normal 'style' and write something very different and very beautiful.

Thank you. I call my second personality that takes over when I write, paint, or play piano the "Soup Mark II".

time to pay up my end of the deal! It's a-criticizing time!

...which I'll finish after dinner.

[Lazarus]

Finish? You haven't even started! I'm actually grateful, though. ;)

A fictionalized version of my impression of C$'s critique:
"As I read your story, Lazarus; I felt myself starting to nod off. Some parts were so boring I almost cried. Others made absolutely no sense and gave me a headache. To be frank... I hated every single word of the 'story' you wrote and I think you should burn it and destroy any and all copies you may have made."

Dang. :( :D

[ChickenSoup]

I used to love watching Pirates of the Caribbean. That’s the movie I was taking my girlfriend to last year - on St. Valentine’s Day. And she dumped me, just like that.
We had a silly argument - over my shoes, of all things. I don’t even remember what exactly the argument was about.Small arguments can escalate, I suppose

My friend Arch told me something very profound a long time ago. He said, “Joey my boy, a woman ain’t worth the powder to blow her to bits.”
uhhhh.... Okay. That's a bit... interesting... maybe I'm not seeing the joke :P

I was rather relieved to be - at least temporarily - saved from a beating, so I sat still and watched them go at each other. It was awesome. Bruce swirling his nun chucks around - Chuck kicking them out of his hand - Bruce ax-kicking Chuck in the shoulder - Chuck wrestling Bruce down - and the fight went on.

Finally Chuck rolls away and gets up, panting. His eye is turning black, his lip is bleeding, and he’s got two broken bones in his leg. Bruce has a bloody ear, several assorted bruises around the chin region, and one of his hands look like it was run over by a steamroller.1. Bruce would've taken a lot more than that
2. Chuck Norris ALWAYS wins
3. Chuck Norris has no regrets
4. Chuck Norris wouldn't have let him get away
5. Maybe because it was only a dream, but still
6. Chuck Norris ROUNDHOUSE KICKS!

[Lazarus]

Wow, C$. :eek: A scathing review. I should just - rewrite the whole thing. :o

Wait - one good piece of advice in there - I FORGOT THE ROUNDHOUSE KICK! *hides face in shame*

And C$, the joke was that Arch isn't very lucky with women. ;) (Fictional story, remember.)

[ChickenSoup]

oh, I see.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!11ONE1!!!11SHIFT

still not funny. Sorry. I guess I'm too mature!








...yeah right :rolleyes:

[Lazarus]

You thought it was funny. ;)

[dorkelf]

Just one more day to go on this contest. Lets see a last-minute entry or two!
:D

[Lazarus]

Yeah, that'd be great. ;)

(Btw dorkelf... that avatar of yours is freaking me out.)

[tjguitarz]

Eh, not sure if I'm going to be able to punch out an entry tonight. Work's killing me, most of my free time is spent with my book, and I'm going out of town tomorrow!

[tjguitarz]

Alright, I threw something together real quick. Heh, I guarantee you'll feel stoopider for reading this.



Ash (from pokemon) clicked on the TV. Images of Digemon and Yu-Gi-Oh flickered across the screen. "Stupid Japanese childrens shows..." he growled.

Standing up, he threw the controller into the TV screen and held up his hands and screamed like Tarzan, banging his chest. After a full year of mending his broken heart, he just then decided he was ready to get back to society.

He pictured her while he walked up the stairs: Vivian, the girl of his dreams. She broke his heart last V-day with a piece of shrapnel and a twinkie. The whole story left him questioning his identity, hence the isolation. "But not anymore," he said aloud, slipping on his 8-year-old sister's jeans and putting on the exact same baseball hat he wore for (maybe) 2 years straight.

It took him nearly 3 hours, but once he was sure he was looking studly, he slipped on his soft, hello-kitty shoes and walked out the door. Today was V-day, and after the horrid memories, he hoped to find someone special to share it with.

Breathing in the sweet taste of spring, he smiled. The weather was beautiful, despite the 'winter' label.

The second he stepped off his porch, he gulped. Out in the distance he saw the bullies coming his way. They called themselves the XAUEPM, the Xtreme Awesome Ultimate Extreem Pokemon Masters. At 5 feet tall, dressed in purple jumpsuits, and capable of ripping a copy of Reader's Digest in half, they were menacing. Darting for his life, he sped down the road. Get away, get away, get away. Just when he thought he was safe, the bullies jumped out of no where.

"Stop, punk." They all laughed.

"Leave me alone!"

"Or what? You'll get your little sister to beat us up?" They laughed again. The largest one suddenly threw out a pokeball. "Go Pikachu!" A small yellow rodent popped from the small sphere. It looked like Rosie O'Donnel crossed with a port-o-potty (shrunken down).

Ash screamed like a girl and ran away. The pokemon hissed and flew on his back. He screamed and fell to the ground. "Get it off! Get it off!" The commotion ended with a sickening...

CRUNCH!

A tall figure decked out in a black robe and a black scarf towered over him. Extending a hand, she helped him up. She was a ninja. He couldn't see anything except her eyes and a small strand of blonde hair.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"A drifter."

With that, she flew over me and did kung-fu and ti-quan-do and ju-jitsu and karate and dismantled all the XAUEPMs and their pokemon. When she returned, she hadn't even cracked a sweat.

"Thanks." I said weakly. "What's your name?"

She took off her scarf and smiled. "You can call me Princess Peach."

[Lazarus]

"I guarantee you'll feel stoopider for reading this."

I wish Wal-Mart's guarantees were as sure of a thing as yours. :D

j/k. I liked it - good comedy.

[Neirai the Forgiven]

I'm thinking of submitting something, I'll see if I get to do it (I'm about to leave for college and their internet is the epitome of t3h SUX0R -- usually I can't even connect).

For now I'll bash TJ for a second :)

Dude... in your last 3 lines you changed from "he" to "me" and from "Ash" to "I." :) Serious characterization flummox :)

[dorkelf]

[Note: This entry was pm'ed to me yesterday so its still eligible for the contest.]


Dearest Eleanor,

I write this letter knowing you will never read it, yet a kind of madness has taken me and I dare not deny its pull. The moon is high but the windows are drawn; even the thick lilac fabric can not shield me from its light. Neither wisdom nor reason can save me.

I can not rest.

No matter how many winter seasons I survive, it is always hard to have faith that spring will come again. February’s icy fingers have wrapped around my wrists and I wonder if March will be any more kind. It is more than a year since we parted, yet there is still no more warmth in my bones than when I last held you.

I can not get warm.

Last spring and throughout the summer, I imagined that the chill had passed. When autumn came, it found me without covering. To speak plainly, I was alone, and the loneliness was terrible. Winter, when it came as suddenly as autumn, was even more terrible.

Eliot wrote that “April is the cruelest month,” yet I would grant February that honor. My eloquence will never rival Eliot’s, so let me speak more plainly still.

I live my life now, searching, longing for someone with whom I can fellowship. I yearn to find companions and a place where I belong. Yet as time passes and no one chooses me, I am left with excess time to consider what is the matter with me. If no one will draw near to me, there must be a cause.

As autumn gave way to winter, my sorrow gave way to bitterness. I have begun to hate those people, a world away, who enjoy the warmth of others. I hate those who have what I desire.

Worse yet, I have started to close myself to all people, finding it easier to reject a person before that person has the opportunity to reject me. I can see no more light than the moon; I can feel my hope waning. I feel--terrible though it may sound--that I am waiting to die.

No one should have to suffer such as this. No one should live alone, waiting for death. It is cruel, crueler than even February.

I wait for spring, but I do not believe that it will bring warmth. I wake, I write, I slumber, and I dream. There is little else for one to do in solitude.

I will spend the last of my waking hours praying to God, though He has yet to answer my lament. It may be that there is no answer while I suffer through mortal realms.

It may be that the raven’s shadow will never be lifted.

Yours ever more,

Edgar

[dorkelf]

This "letter to Eleanor" really touched my heart at first, but for me it became a too-consistent mantra of related dark thoughts and it didn't build on the emotional impact it generated at the onset. I think the problem is that you have framed into as a prose letter material that seems to be conceived as a dark, anguished psalm of depair - and ultimately it comes off as a kind of strange mix between a story and a poem, lacking the development one would want in a story or the economy of wording one looks for in a poem. For that reason I highly recommend you consider rewriting this as a poem. It might lend itself well to Haiku, or you might look to Hebrew poetry and adopt a psalm form. If on the other hand you want it to remain in the form of a prose letter, I hope you'll consider adding more for the sake of the reader, who will want to know exactly who Eleanor is and who will need more incentive to 'care' that your character is going through such a dark time in his life.

Hope that makes some sense, I do tend to ramble on. ;)

Paul

[tjguitarz]

Sorry about my two little retarded posts. I thought I had a good idea but... eh... I'm having trouble sleeping.

However, I do have 2 things to ask that I think are completely clear statements.

1. When's the next contest?
2. Dorkelf, where is your entry?

--- End of Post ---

[ChickenSoup]

so did I win or what

[dorkelf]

so did I win or what

Indeed you did, and well deserved too soup boy. I'll get your winning entry and Lazarus' posted onto the blog shortly.

Sorry guys about my general non-involvement with my own forum lately.
I turned in 28 pages of annotations to articles from academic periodicals yesterday, mostly typed up in a little over a week - which I blame on having three graduate classes in another state plus two jobs, though the real reason is that I procrastinated. :rolleyes: I happen to be in the middle of class right now in fact, I'll make sure to get another assignment posted ASAP when I get the chance.

Note to TJGuitarz - I do enjoy submitting for these contests (as a non-contestant, since I have an unfair advantage as originator of the guidelines). I will probably type something up for this one and post it after I have a chance to post the new contest. Thanks for asking.

Paul

[ChickenSoup]

You've been busy lol. Cool.

[tjguitarz]

I do enjoy submitting for these contests (as a non-contestant, since I have an unfair advantage as originator of the guidelines). I will probably type something up for this one and post it after I have a chance to post the new contest. Thanks for asking.

Humbug.

[Lazarus]

Blog?

Well done, C$. Did you get the golden soup can trophy? ;)

[ChickenSoup]

>_> <_<

I can neither confirm nor deny it.. um... DORKELF GET HIM HE KNOWS TOO MUCH!!!!

[dorkelf]

Blog?
http://assignmentwriting.blogspot.com/

Has now been updated.

Paul

[dorkelf]

A single black rose separated them. They sat facing each other, still and silent. She held a glass of blood-red wine between two fingers. He leaned forward with chin resting on nested fingers tipped with painted black fingernails.

“Janice?”

She placed down the glass, leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. Regarded him for a long moment. “No,” she said finally, with resolution. “I won’t marry you.”

He matched her silent gaze for a long moment, his lips pursed as usual, his expression indistinct. But she detected a bare hint of playfulness in his eyes.

“Why?” he finally asked her. This question was unexpected and it caught her off guard. She coughed, leaned back forward and took a hasty sip of the wine. As usual she grimaced as the strong, resiny liquid dropped down her throat like cough syrup.

“Fred,” she replied, hastily placing the glass back down. “We’re already married.”

Fred considered this for a long moment. Finally a slight sideways twitch of his black-painted lips indicated slight displeasure.

“That answer isn’t very hurtful to me.” The resentment was quite evident in his voice.

Her eyes softened with sympathy. “Well,” she said, leaning back again. Her eyes turned upwards. “Well,” she repeated after a moment. “I refuse to marry you because you’re cruel, Fred. You know I hate wine and you make me sit down like this every year and you always get upset if I don’t take a sip. But I hate it, Fred. I hate it!”

He stood up as she spat the last words, lifting the dinner napkin off of his lap and tossing it gently on the table next to his plate of rare steak and scallops. “I’m leaving now,” he said, a slight rise in his voice. And with that he turned and walked out the door.

As the door closed, she waited a moment, then lifted her fork and skewered a scallop. The door opened again.

“Would you…”

She nodded. “Sure hun, I’ll put your leftovers in the fridge.”

“Thanks dear.”