For me, the Great February Writing Contest was about honor. I find comic book writing very easy and prose writing very difficult. Unfortunately, I ran out of comic writing work and struggled with the heavy lifting for the back end of the race. Originally, the match was between Sturges and Willingham as they commisorated with each other about the volume of work they had bitten off. Hopefully, they have wrestled those projects to the ground and given them a good kick. I know I put a few notches on the bookcase.
The Personal Scoreboard
The Merry Widow- On February 1st, I was in the mood to write a revenge thing set in the bleak future that is around the bend. And I wrote enough of the project to get a good handle on the tone and the tempo of the thing. From that, I put together a pitch that has already been shot down by one publisher. Still, its more than I started with. I still might be able to find a home for it.
Skittlebones- When I started the contest, I had several short stories from this collection that had been in various stages of disrepair. By the end, I have finished the stories and now have enough work to send around and maybe make a buck or two. I started with rubble and ended up with 70K words that I can turn out like a Thai prostitute. I mean, I made art.
The Blood of the Gods- I really hit the wall on this thing with a week plus left. When I started the contest, I had an outline for the front third of the novel and a little over the first chapter down on paper. At the 20K word point, I had run out of outline as surely as Wile E. Coyote runs out of real estate when he's wearing the ACME rocket skates. But I've staggered on and the novel sits at 26K words, some of them good.
Now, I get to do the best part of the contest. I get to read what Willingham was hammering away on. Maybe I can comment on the final score when it posts. But I think I correctly called the final rankings on Day 4.
Here is some of the writing from yesterday...
Gulliver had pulled back to the narrow hallway that led from the barred door to the hallway. He waited quietly as the two men came to the door and did their best to reason out what might have happened. Standing as still as a statue, he waited as the two speculated that this prison might be haunted, most were. Finally, they decided to check and see what had happened and who had removed the bar on their side of the door. Gulliver waited, a trickle of sweat ran down his neck and kept on going as he listened to the two men creep close to his location. They drew their blades and he steadied his length of chain. The first guard to the corner got a length of chain to the face with the impact wrapping it part way around his head. The second guard came in and Gulliver just got the chain up to block the incoming blade. He sidestepped and the next time the man lunged, Gulliver wrapped the chain around the other man's neck. He got behind him and pulled with all of his might, tightening the chain. The second guard swung his sword back behind him and caught Gulliver in the side. The little thief tripped the man and sent them stumbling into the near wall with the guard hitting first and hardest. When the other man was stunned, Gulliver kicked the sword away and finished him. He checked the wound on his side and concluded that it was something he could live with for the moment. He got his breathing under control and checked the first guard who was still breathing. Then he searched the men and took enough of their clothes to cover his man-parts but not quite enough to pass for one of them. He did get to drop the manacles and chain in favor of a recently dropped blade. But what to do about Penelope?
She would almost certainly be useless in a fight. And how far could she get in her dehydrated state? Gulliver pondered what to do as he dragged the guards around the corner.
Gulliver walked back to her cell, holding the keys that he had just liberated from the first guard's belt. In his spare hand, he was carrying a shirt that was really the only part of the uniform useable from the first guard. Gulliver grinned in spite of the situation. For the first time in a long time, he had smacked the crap out of someone.
Penelope was shivering, but she was silent in her cell.
"Hey," Gulliver whispered.
"I'm going to try to unlock your cell door."
Her head whipped around. "I'm in a cell?"
"For another minute or two." Gulliver sighed and looked at the lock for a minute, then he looked at the crude key. The pins and tumblers seemed to line up. He slid the key into the mechanism and gave it a turn. There was a metallic clang and the door was free. He pulled and the barred door opened with a barking squeak. He crossed the floor to where Penelope was chained. "I'm going to take off the blindfold. Don't bite me." He threw the big shirt across her nude form.
"Why would I do that?"
"I dunno. It just seemed like a possibility." He removed her blindfold and was looking into eyes the color of an angry sea. He focused on the manacles and got them off of her. "Get into that shirt, we're leaving."
"Where are we?"
"I dunno," he said. "Can you use a weapon?"
Gulliver pulled a spare blade out of the borrowed belt. "It's a cheap ass little dagger, but its better than nothing."
Penelope walked up next to him and reached out with a trembling hand. "I'll take it," she said.
Gulliver eyed her for a moment. "Just don't cut me." He led her away from the cells and toward the guards. They stepped around the men carefully and moved on into the hall on the other side of the door. He motioned at the girl. "Wait here."
"Why?" She was trying to blend in behind a little bit of wall that had jutted out at random.
"I don't know what's around the bend," Gulliver said. "Let me do the work, and stay a short way behind me." He turned and started moving along the wall, moving as quietly as he could. He whispered. "Keep me in sight." Gulliver crept to the corner and holding his breath, he peeked around the corner where the space widened. There was a table and a couple of chairs and a card game that had been abandoned. He drew his blade and moved to nearest door. He looked in on a barracks where a pair of men were sleeping on opposite sides of the room in two of the six cots. Gulliver motioned back to Penelope. He went in and finished the men as they slept.
Gulliver came back out of the barracks, a thin smear of blood on the borrowed blade. He was intent on finding his gear and if he had to pull the prison complex apart brick by brick he would get his sword back.