So Many Ways to Win

Okay, so I didn’t come in first, second or third.  When I entered the flash fiction contest I blogged about last week, I told you I’d post my submission, which you’ll find below.  Though I didn’t receive a prize, I won anyway—because I dared to enter a contest in which a winning result would have meant sending the first 10 pages of my manuscript to an agent or an editor. (That's a  HUGE step forward...for me.)  Then, with optimism in my soul, I crossed my fingers and looked at those pages hard, and realized I’m not there, yet.  Though I’ve cut and cut and cut, too much back story crowds my first two chapters.  Had I sent them off, they’d have been met with a yawn.  So more work to do, but knowing so is a win too, right?

Suzy’s (Hayes) Palmieri’s contest required writing a piece— 300 words or less, telling the story about the picture below.  My entry follows the pic.  If you feel like offering constructive criticism, I’d be delighted to receive it.    

   

Here's my take:

 

Annabelle stepped on the sand, her ankle twisting at the unexpected give. The hard pack of the Kansas plains hadn’t prepared her for this alien place, where the earth shifted and as far as the horizon, dark water undulated. Mama hadn’t arrived yet, or she’d have lifted an eyebrow, demanding Annabelle stand up straight. “You’re not married yet, dear. What will Wilfred or his family think if they see you slouching?” She pushed her shoulders back and, heeding her mother’s warning about the sun’s weathering effects, opened her parasol.

A man sat on the sand in front of her. Blood rushed to her face at the sight of his bare legs. Beyond him, two women stood near the surf, clad in short skirts and wool tights, their calves outlined in spite of the knit coverings. Their lack of attire reminded her. In two days hence, when her betrothed, Wilfred Hapford Allings, III, twenty years her senior and a stranger until last week joined her in their marriage bed—she’d be wearing less than those immodest women at the water’s edge.

Annabelle had no illusions. At eight and twenty, she was long in the tooth—a catch like Wilfred far beyond her station. The only living son from a family of vast wealth, he needed to produce an heir. She’d wondered why a man of such fortune would arrange for a mail order bride from Kansas. But when she gazed into eyes as cold as this first glimpse of the ocean and his grip on her arm left bruises, apprehension transitioned to fear. Then she overheard the maid. Two older brothers dead accidentally. His first wife—simply gone. Nothing proved, but she’d been a Wigglesworth and scandal ensued.

Annabelle Tougas from Far Prairie, Kansas? Who would miss her?

If you'd like to read the other entries, you can find them in the comments here. 


Addendum: 9/19/12...and speaking of winners, the winner of an E-Book copy of Uncharted: Story for a Shipwright by J.B. Chicoine, is Robin.  Robin, contact me with your email address and I will forward the information to Rhemalda Press. Congratulations to Robin and once again to Bridget (J.B)!!

And the Winners Are...

What? You didn’t know? You haven’t seen it tweeted, FaceBooked, haven't read a blog about it, or or caught it flashing in multiple sidebars? Where have you been? Just kidding. The information I’m about to unveil doesn’t exist out there. The great “not contest” of 2010 resides right here on Middle Passages Lane.

Call the following a demonstration of gratitude, though the term “not contest” has more pizzazz than a boring old “thank you”--and seeing by the time most of you read this, it will be my birthday, na, na, na, na, na, na, I get to name this particular celebration in blog-land whatever I want. So there.

Hmmm. Confused? Don’t blame you. Need me to elucidate? Sure, I can do that.

Look at my sidebar. Believe it or not, the feet-dragging tortoise that is the number of Middle Passages followers, finally managed to lumber over 100 before the author stiffened from arthritis and was forced to check into a nursing home. I know, as I write this, the number is actually 101, but one of those followers is me. Don’t bother asking how I managed to follow my own blog because I’m clueless and since I don’t know how I did it in the first place, I sure as heck don’t know how to undo it. If you do, please share. Anyway, I digress.

Apparently it’s de rigueur to hold a contest now that I’ve reached 100 followers, or have written my 368th post, or tapped three times on the window, and, in so doing, I should ask my current readers to blog, FaceBook and Tweet about said contest, so that by this time next week, Middle Passages will have 200 followers all eying "the prize.” Most times, I’m all about conformity, but here I demur, cuz folks, slow and steady and all that, ey wot? And besides, I like readers who aren’t in it for the give-aways. You know, the ones that actually stick around and, um, read?

Don’t get me wrong; I’m grateful for every Middle Passage follower and commenter, but the bulk of the credit for my forward momentum over the last year goes to several loyal, helpful and inspiring individuals through whose caring comments, I continue to grow as a writer.

Thus my “not contest”--structured to reward any three readers who meet simple guidelines, but statistically weighted toward those who have been commenting since the beginning, or, ahem, since last August, which was when I finally began to receive comments on a regular basis.

As such, behold the “not selection process” which, since I get to make the rules, has already occurred:

• I tallied up every Middle Passages comment since August 1, 2009 and July 21, 2010 (Here is where you are invited to say: “Get a life, Liza.”)

• and, entered anyone who commented over five times during that period.

• Every comment equaled one chance. For example, if you commented 27 times over the specified time period, imagine 27 raffle tickets with your name on them, added to a drawing.

Three “not winners” were selected in an unscientific process today--i.e., my daughter shook up a container filled with white slips of paper with names printed on them, closed her eyes and pulled out three.

Now, we get to the fun part.

What is a “not contest” if it doesn’t offer “not prizes?” Not much, right?

So here’s the deal. Each “not winner” will not receive...just kidding again, they will receive one of the following three books, all of which by the way, I have not read.

1) The Pocket Muse. Ideas & Inspirations for Writing, by Monica Wood
2) The Faith of a Writer. Life, Craft, Art, by Joyce Carol Oats
3) The Courage to Write (How Writers Transcend Fear), by Ralph Keyes

The first prize winner will select their choice of books. The second prize winner chooses next, and the third prize winner will receive the remaining book. Clear enough?

Now, a drum roll, please.

The winners are:

First Prize: Jody Hedlund of Author Jody Hedlund.

Second Prize: Glenn from Differences with the Same Likeness

Third Prize: Tabitha Bird from Through My Eyes.

Jody, may I ask you to please email me with your book selection and an address where you would like it sent? Tabitha and Glenn, please email me your 1st, 2nd, and 3rd preferences in books. Depending on which book Jody chooses, I’ll do my best to honor your choices and if you also, would send addresses to my email, I’ll mail your books off to you. Tab, I’m fine with the overseas deal.

I hope this “not contest” helps in some way to convey my appreciation to all of you who read Middle Passages. Aside from the three folks above, there are 32 other readers who have offered consistent feedback; some over long months and some more recently. I know too, there is a quiet group in the background cheering me on. You all know who you are. In my mind, every one of you is a first place winner.