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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
... Is A Good Story
Are you sitting comfortably?
Of course not: this is The Internet. No doubt you’re slouched in your chair. Perhaps you’re lounging back, rolling your eyes at the text on the screen before you, at how absurd and silly the author’s attempts at prediction are, and are desperately hoping this will soon be over so you can vote it to the bottom of your list (or, if this is by some miracle a finalist, give it a zero). Or maybe you’re leaning forward, your back arched ever so slightly, your mouth twisting into an amused (or bemused?) smile, your brows furrowing with intrigue despite yourself—or maybe that’s just wish-fulfillment on the author’s part.
No doubt you are already drawing parallels to Italo Calvino’s new novel, If on a winter’s night a traveller. You read that book, and remember liking it, because it was one of the Books That Fill You With Sudden, Inexplicable Curiosity, Not Easily Justified (unless, of course, it is one of those Books That Everybody's Read So It's As If You Had Read Them, Too, in which case you definitely remember liking it). You’re not sure you’re liking this cheap imitation: it lacks some of the spark of innovation that made the original so engaging and, by virtue of being an imitation, can never quite step out of its master’s shadow.
You’re beginning to wonder who would write something like this. You remember, of course, that Doseux wrote Lunnas Ache last month, and suppose that this kind of literary madness is similar enough, but now, for whatever reason, you’re starting to second-guess yourself. No, surely Doseux would not write something so heavy-handed? Perhaps you open another tab and flick through the list of suspected authors of Lunnas Ache, trying to see if any of their styles would likely match this one… Or perhaps you don’t care much for the author guessing, anyway. A wise choice: guessing based on content never seems to work so well as guessing based on submission order.
This story, you’ve decided, is missing something, but at first you’re not quite sure what it is. Of course! The prompt! This story doesn’t seem to have anything to do with medicine, figurative or literal, superlatively good or otherwise. This wouldn’t usually be a problem: perhaps the author is saving a prompt drop, or something like it, until the very end? Or maybe the title, with its frustrating ellipsis, is trying to relate them? You’re sure there are many other stories in this contest that do just that (indeed, perhaps you’ve already read one, or more?), but something about this particular entry makes you question it. Is it really going to do that? You can’t quite see how the author could possibly pull it off.
For that matter, where are the ponies? You know there was some discussion on the forum about whether or not the rules allowed entries that weren’t explicitly pony fanfiction, but you’re sure there has to be some kind of rule about that, right? Surely the author can’t intend to actually write a story for this writeoff without once mentioning the very subject matter they should be writing about? Stopping to think about it, you wonder if this story was really about anything in the first place. Was there ever even a story here?
No doubt now you’re considering running to the forum and posting a comment (unless you are one of those meticulous reviewers who posts a whole group of reviews at once, in which case you’re surely running to wherever it is you keep your reviews before you post them) and preparing to write some scathing comments about the pointlessness of this piece, of how it doesn’t really seem to have a Purpose. You'll mark it down, of course, and in the forum ask what the world is coming to, and question how things like this can be written and pretentiously called "art" by their authors. You didn’t really like it, after all. It wasn’t as good as Italo Calvino’s new novel, If on a winter’s night a traveller.
Of course not: this is The Internet. No doubt you’re slouched in your chair. Perhaps you’re lounging back, rolling your eyes at the text on the screen before you, at how absurd and silly the author’s attempts at prediction are, and are desperately hoping this will soon be over so you can vote it to the bottom of your list (or, if this is by some miracle a finalist, give it a zero). Or maybe you’re leaning forward, your back arched ever so slightly, your mouth twisting into an amused (or bemused?) smile, your brows furrowing with intrigue despite yourself—or maybe that’s just wish-fulfillment on the author’s part.
No doubt you are already drawing parallels to Italo Calvino’s new novel, If on a winter’s night a traveller. You read that book, and remember liking it, because it was one of the Books That Fill You With Sudden, Inexplicable Curiosity, Not Easily Justified (unless, of course, it is one of those Books That Everybody's Read So It's As If You Had Read Them, Too, in which case you definitely remember liking it). You’re not sure you’re liking this cheap imitation: it lacks some of the spark of innovation that made the original so engaging and, by virtue of being an imitation, can never quite step out of its master’s shadow.
You’re beginning to wonder who would write something like this. You remember, of course, that Doseux wrote Lunnas Ache last month, and suppose that this kind of literary madness is similar enough, but now, for whatever reason, you’re starting to second-guess yourself. No, surely Doseux would not write something so heavy-handed? Perhaps you open another tab and flick through the list of suspected authors of Lunnas Ache, trying to see if any of their styles would likely match this one… Or perhaps you don’t care much for the author guessing, anyway. A wise choice: guessing based on content never seems to work so well as guessing based on submission order.
This story, you’ve decided, is missing something, but at first you’re not quite sure what it is. Of course! The prompt! This story doesn’t seem to have anything to do with medicine, figurative or literal, superlatively good or otherwise. This wouldn’t usually be a problem: perhaps the author is saving a prompt drop, or something like it, until the very end? Or maybe the title, with its frustrating ellipsis, is trying to relate them? You’re sure there are many other stories in this contest that do just that (indeed, perhaps you’ve already read one, or more?), but something about this particular entry makes you question it. Is it really going to do that? You can’t quite see how the author could possibly pull it off.
For that matter, where are the ponies? You know there was some discussion on the forum about whether or not the rules allowed entries that weren’t explicitly pony fanfiction, but you’re sure there has to be some kind of rule about that, right? Surely the author can’t intend to actually write a story for this writeoff without once mentioning the very subject matter they should be writing about? Stopping to think about it, you wonder if this story was really about anything in the first place. Was there ever even a story here?
No doubt now you’re considering running to the forum and posting a comment (unless you are one of those meticulous reviewers who posts a whole group of reviews at once, in which case you’re surely running to wherever it is you keep your reviews before you post them) and preparing to write some scathing comments about the pointlessness of this piece, of how it doesn’t really seem to have a Purpose. You'll mark it down, of course, and in the forum ask what the world is coming to, and question how things like this can be written and pretentiously called "art" by their authors. You didn’t really like it, after all. It wasn’t as good as Italo Calvino’s new novel, If on a winter’s night a traveller.