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Rakiura 1260 words The tiny town of Bluff clings to the bottom of the South Island, the cold southern ocean lapping at its doorstep. It’s known for two things: the world-famous-in-New Zealand Bluff oysters and the ferry to Stewart Island. The oysters taste mild and sweet, while the trip across the Foveaux Strait is notoriously rough. Naturally, I was there for the ferry. The ferry building is little more than a shack on the dock, so I wait outside and stare at the choppy grey sea, telling myself that I’m not running away. I’m just taking a break, recharging, all those positive things my mindfulness apps encourage me to do. Sure, they recommend activities like yoga instead of booking a multi-day trip at ten o’clock the previous night, but it’s the same idea. I’m going to do something to rejuvenate myself. I’m going to do a three-day hike on Stewart Island. I haven’t done an overnight tramp before, but that’s why it’s good. Accomplishing a new challenge will surely reinvigorate me. An Antarctic gust slaps me in the face and I shiver, despite my fleece coat. Thoughts of the client projects I left behind, dumped on the rest of my overworked team, bubble up and I do some deep breathing to banish them again. I’d have to work late nights and over the weekend when I got back, but that was fine. That was normal. To distract myself, I watch a fishing boat slowly crawl into the harbour, a sign on the side advertising Bluff oysters. My traitorous brain immediately thinks of my first date with Steven, where we ate oysters and drank white wine all night in a bustling Auckland bar. I wince at his last words the night before: come back when you’re ready to prioritize us, Martha. The unfairness still stung, he knew work kept me busy. I told him, as I had a hundred times, that it would all be worth it when we landed the big contract, but he didn’t believe me. Finally, the ferry arrives. I stow my bags in the waterproof bins and take a seat between some rugged fishermen. A paper bag hangs ominously on the seat in front of me. I hope that I won’t need it, but as the ferry clears the harbour, that hope dies. The boat rocks side to side, up and down, rolling like an aggressive carnival ride. I cling to the seat and stare fixedly at the horizon, but I still vomit halfway through the trip. An attendant, walking casually as though she’s on dry land, wordlessly takes the full bag and gives me another one. After a tortuous hour, the ferry docks on Stewart Island. Town population: 400. I shakily step off the ferry and the locals around me scatter into the little cluster of buildings that make up the town. I trudge up the hill to my accommodation, a tiny cabin in the woods behind the town. It’s dark by the time I get there. I unpack and decide to skip dinner in favor of just going to bed. I desperately want to take a bath first but the water is cold. I’m stumped until I read in the house manual that I have to make a fire in the wood stove to heat the water. I wasn’t in Girl Guides, so I stuff the stove full of logs. It won’t light and I’m about to give up and/or cry when I remember the newspaper. Finally the fire gets going, but I cry anyway. I’m just as miserable as I was at home. The next day, I set off on the hike. I stop in at the ranger station in town, where they warn me that it’ll rain for the next two days. I wave off their concern; what’s a little rain? Just adds to the challenge. Within a few minutes of walking, I’m out of the town and into the untouched forest that blankets the vast majority of the island. The only evidence of humanity is the trail that I follow. I breathe in the cool air, super-oxygenated from all the plantlife. All the suffering I endured to get to this point was worth it, I think. I am being rejuvenated. Of course, the rangers were right: the rain starts in the late morning. I pull on my raincoat but within the hour I’m soaked. Whenever I rest, I start shivering, but I tell myself I can dry out once I reach the first hut. The rain intensifies as the trail winds down into a gully. Soon I’m trudging through ankle-deep mud that threatens to suck the boots off my feet with each step. Rain streaming down my face, I grit my teeth and push on. This is the challenge, I tell myself. It’ll feel so good to overcome it. I sit on the driest log I can find for lunch. The rain turns my sandwich to mush before I can eat half of it. A cold wind blows through my damp clothing. My socks are more mud than wool and, upon inspection, my backpack hasn’t protected my sleeping bag from the rain. I tell myself to get up and carry on, but my body stays sitting on the log. I’m so alone. Tears start to mingle with the rain and I wish I was back in my cabin, warm and dry next to the fire. From the depths of my despair, a new thought arrives: why not go back? It’s not like I told anyone I was going to do this hike. You’d be letting down yourself, my old voice says, think of how rewarding it will be to finish! But I’m miserable now, the new thoughts argue, will the sense of accomplishment cancel out all this suffering? You need this, the old voice says, you need to do this to feel better about yourself. No, I don’t, I realize. The rest of my life is hard enough, recovering from it doesn’t need to be hard too. I stand up and turn back towards the town. Even though the trail heads uphill, I make good progress, my backpack feeling lighter with each step. The mud is as sticky as ever, but the promise of a hot bath kept me from worrying about it. Even the rain seems to lighten up. I arrive back in town in the late afternoon, pick up groceries from the tiny market (apologizing to the owners for tracking mud everywhere), and skip back to my cabin. I strip off my wet clothes, light the fire easily, feeling like an expert already, and cook myself a filling steak dinner. Afterwards, I fill up the bath with wonderfully hot water and sink into it, glass of wine in hand. For the first time in days, my shoulders relax. I close my eyes and listen to the rain patter on the tin roof. I spend the next three days in a similar fashion. In the morning, I stoke the fire while I drink coffee and read a book. During the day, I check out the town, chatting to the locals, or go for small walks to the beach. At night, I cook and take a hot bath. By my standards, I do nothing, but it’s glorious. On the last day, I ruefully leave my little haven and catch the ferry back to Bluff. My phone blows up with notifications as soon as I’m back on the mainland, but I turn it off. There will be time to deal with the real world tomorrow.
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Oct 9, 2021 03:59
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Prompt: "Bluff" (1270 words wow sorry) Resistance The Little Tokyo police station was a glass and steel modernist box, immaculate, fluorescent. Camilla stepped out with a huge white grin on her freckled face. We leapt to our feet. Someone's thermos clanged against the pavement. We threw our fists to the sky and whooped. It had been hours of waiting. The sun was low and yellow. The air stank of exhaust and overripe pavement, but it was cooling down fast. She wore only a thin white t-shirt and cutoffs, and white Keds untied over bare feet. I took a step forward. Started to shrug off my cardigan. But someone else, someone tall and tan, with badly cut black hair, moved in close and murmured in her ear. I halted. Adjusted the lay of my collar. Shoved my hands in my pockets. Camilla nodded. The man unzipped his hoodie. Camilla gave him the clear plastic bag with her possessions to hold, and wriggled into his sweatshirt with a smile. She was even taller than he was. Her bony wrists popped out the sleeve ends. Ridiculous. Others swarmed her. Friends, comrades, Instagram followers. How did they treat you? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you have everything you came in with? The pigs didn't try to gently caress with you, did they? Do you have a court date? Do you have a place to stay tonight? Do you want to say a few words to everyone who came here to support you today? I looked harder at the woman who'd asked that last question. Compact, dark-skinned, with rounded features and a shallow line etched between her arched black brows. Miriam Tadesse. At every Black Lives Matter protest. Usually the one leading the chants. I'd love to, Camilla trilled, and received the proffered bullhorn with both hands splayed wide. I watched her, for a little while. Her beautiful, expressive, camera-ready face. Her thoughtful pauses, her choice of emphasis. Her sorrow, her compassion. Her moral indignation. Her golden hair. Her sun-speckled skin. In many ways, the perfect person to get roughed up and arrested. Perhaps Tadesse thought so too. I watched the crowd. Everyone's faces lifted up, looking. She was tall and bright and benevolent and the light of the setting sun caught and hung in her corkscrew curls that swung and bounced with every impassioned word, every fierce gesture. Camilla's voice rose to a shout. We come here for Black lives! Yeah, the crowd roared back. We come here to love and support one another! Yeah! Because we KNOW, she shouted, and then paused, and swept the crowd with her burning gaze. Her eyes caught the sun, and caught mine. Say it with me, she yelled. None of us are free— UNTIL ALL OF US ARE FREE, the crowd roared, and I roared, and they all loved her, we loved her, I loved her. And then Camilla handed the bullhorn back to Tadesse, and they exchanged some low words, and Tadesse clasped her hand, and I stood with locked knees and clenched fingers while the hoodie man swept her and Tadesse away into the back seat of a small gray car and I went home to my small gray studio apartment and ordered thai food through one of the last remaining apps offering a new user discount and ate it while poking through every mention of her on instagram, watching her perfectly shaped mouth shout for justice and freedom from forty different angles, over and over and over again. One protest later, she knew my name. Two protests later, she had my number. Alex, she said slowly, typing it into her ancient iPhone. Last name? Szilágyi, I said. See-lah, she repeated. Her forehead creased. How do you spell it? S-Z-I, I began. She smiled and handed me her phone. I smiled back, and placed my phone under hers so I could hold them both while I typed, and lifted my hands to my face and squinted, and tapped to accept the bluetooth file transfer. Sorry, it's just taking me a bit, I forgot how to pull up the accent for the Á. It's Hungarian, I explained. Oh, cool, Camilla chirped. I've never been to Hungary. I hear it's beautiful. I haven't either, I said, a little distractedly. I'll put my email in here too. She rolled her shoulders. Which org are you with, again? Uh, I do organizing and mutual aid in my own neighborhood. We don't even have a name yet, but it's been going for a little while. Community meals and stuff. We're working on sourcing a fridge. I finished configuring the keytracker install. Swiped back to the contact info. Typed in my email address in record time, thumbs shaking. Cool, Camilla said again. My family's too embittered to go back and visit Hungary, I said, and lowered my hands again so she could see me finish typing. They're still pissed off that their land got seized by the communists. That was like, sixty years ago. Talk about a grudge. Ha ha. I can see why that'd be painful for them, Camilla murmured, and held her hand out for her phone. I placed it back into her palm. Well, that's me, I said. Text if you need, um. Any help moving stuff around, or if you have extra food donations or anything. I'll get it to where it needs to go. Great, Camilla said, more warmly this time. She waggled her phone. I'll see you at the next BLM event? Miriam's asked for as many people as we can get. Yep, I said, too fast. I stuck my hands in my pockets. If you need a ride there, um. Let me know. Cool, she said, and smiled a good-bye sort of smile. Night, Alex. See you, I replied, and turned and slunk away. The next protest was in front of the mayor's house. Camilla didn't text me for a ride. She did text Miriam Tadesse. And someone named Antonio, who she responded to very quickly, and with a lot of exclamation points. She also texted her mother, explaining that it wasn't a big deal about the arrest, and to please not tell dad before she could tell him herself. She paid a quarterly student loan payment of $380.20 and a cell phone bill of $45. She ignored most emails. She got into an extremely gentle and well-mannered argument about white fragility in the comments of someone else's instagram post. She searched on the internet for Assata Shakur. She looked at wool socks. She looked at eco-friendly dishwasher soap. What had I expected? The fridge had been free. The U-Haul pickup truck cost $78. The guy I hired at Home Depot to help me carry it cost $50. The prepared couscous and veggie wrap meals that were about to expire from the grocery outlet cost $213.87. The local corner store refused to let me plug the fridge it in outside their place, so the meals all went into my fridge instead, and the craigslist fridge loomed unplugged outside my apartment door, a blank beige monument. I gave away two meals, to people living behind my apartment parking structure. The rest fermented and bubbled up the plastic lids. Finally I shoved them into a black plastic trash bag and drove to the dumpster behind the 7-11 and threw them away. Hey Alex, Camilla called to me from the pack, with her perfect, camera-friendly smile. The crowd chanted and sang and banged on pots and pans and tambourines. That's not my name, I said. What? she called, hands cupped to her ears, still smiling. I smiled back.
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Oct 9, 2021 03:59
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All done! No more bets!
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Oct 9, 2021 04:01
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https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1l7ocJMzs9UBh8dcxA5Mf4E9LlbGrP8xu?usp=sharing Made a shared Google folder if people want to post their correctly formatted stories there, it's too much of a pain in the rear end as a forums post, imo.
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Oct 9, 2021 04:30
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We are in the process of judging! There will be a recorded video release of our deliberations! Results should be up by the top of the hour.
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Oct 9, 2021 07:19
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OK, gonna be short and sweet here because there's a lot more coming. Look forward to a video of our deliberations with comments for all, and further crits coming shortly thereafter. For now, we need judgement. Tied for third place and both collecting third place prizes are the authors of The Mover and We Will Not Be Okay! In second place the author of Last Call And our winner.... The author of Rakiura! Again, more tomorrow but good lord do I need to go to sleep.
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Oct 9, 2021 08:11
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Alright, turns out I had too much adrenaline to sleep so... Here are the judge deliberations recorded for your watching/listening pleasure. Stories were discussed in the order they were submitted so scrub through it to find yours! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wy7ajnBTuho (The video is still processing so it may be a few minutes until it's up and live) And here are what we call judge burps. I’ve got little comments to offer about each and every one of these stories. It is AN ACCOMPLISHMENT that you got anything like this done in two hours. That’s absolutely the first and last thing you need to remember. Do check out our recording if you want to hear your stories discussed, but otherwise, here’s some feedback from me. If you want a deeper dive, just let me know, I’ll rip things apart and post a further crit here. Also, though I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. The Thunderdome, is an amazing online community located right here! It’s been around for nearly ten years and provides a weekly writing prompt. The community is supportive and you will get feedback and grow as a writer if you participate! It’s great! Come check it out! An Otter Predicament I like the choice to go with otters, the currency being clams is cute. The story struggles in a couple of points as it got bogged down in the specifics of the odds, amounts, and what have yous. It’s a bold and good choice that you designed your own currency, and playing cards, and the odds and whatnot, but since the story is largely about all of that, and it’s a little hard to follow, it’s not easy to tell where “the otter” is at. Also, “The Otter” would greatly benefit from a name. It doesn’t have to be a typical human name, but just a name. As soon as something has a name it suddenly demands empathic concern and it also focuses us on the protag and gets us rooting for them. Especially important in a story like this where there are winners and losers. Speaking of, I’m not entirely sure what happened in the end? A call for a draw? I don’t really get it. That’s not quite how I understand any kind of poker to be. Bluff Pretty solid concept, I wanted a bit more from the execution. I guess I had a really hard time believing that they would be this at odds over something like this when they’re married and such. Like, I like the idea, but if they’re just gonna actually share things what’s the problem? I don’t know, I see the ambition in the idea but it just doesn’t make sense to me. Maybe have them be divorced? They could still lust after each other but at least the tension would make sense to me and play out a bit better. As it is, I had a time differentiating the two, they both kinda seemed to want the same thing for pretty much the same reason and though I understand that they were somehow incapacitated, it felt like a bit of stretch that they’d miss a vulture when it’s made, very clearly, only a few paragraphs earlier, that they have good aim. We Will Not Be Okay Ok so this is like some of ponzi scheme of ennui? Passing the dread from one to the other. That’s a simple look at this but I think I like what you’ve got going on around it more than what the story is about. The train being somewhat suspended in this nether realm while this mysterious thing is happening was kinda cool. The other mechanic of this resembles the flick “It Follows” which, if you haven’t seen, you’ll probably like. I did find the central thrust of the story a tad difficult to follow, it took me a bit to realize all of the crazy poo poo that was going on but once I got it, you had my attention. The Base of the Bluff Hey you, I wouldn’t ordinarily indulge but you shut your loving mouth! This was pretty great! I was with you! You didn’t linger too much on building up the protag’s sentiments about themselves, and I enjoyed the catharsis. I was rooting for your character and that’s not an easy thing to pull off. I couldn’t quite tell what was going to happen, and I don’t know if that’s intentional, but I kinda wish the picture was painted a bit more clearly. Regardless, by the end, I was pleased to see the character take some control. This felt relatable and engaging to read. bluff Ok, so look, you know what the problem is here. The length is clearly an issue. Now why? People read novels far longer than this? The issue here is that especially in the beginning it just goes thing happens, thing happens, thing happens. We knew how long this was going into it and without someone to really care about or an outcome to hope for, it felt like a big chore to get through. You clearly have a good mind for plot and it’s clear you’ve got a story to tell here, but this is baggy and largely doesn’t contribute to an engaging reading experience. I think you have a good understanding of your characters in your hard, but you don’t spend enough time showing us more about them to get us on board. Drop This was a very vibey piece. It was a little difficult for me to wrap my head around the narrative and the place but the feel of it was powerful. The language was at huge risk of feeling purple, but it never got there, it worked. In reading it, I wasn’t quite sure where to put my hopes, or where to feel invested, but I was here for what I read. I don’t have much useful feedback for this, this felt like it was written in two hours, but in a good way, it kinda felt like it exploded out of you. It left me feeling something, so that’s pretty good. The Bluffalo Ok, so I enjoyed this for what it was, but it wasn’t much. We were looking for stories in this contest and this wasn’t a story. It was basically a pokedex entry. And it was fine and creative at that but a bunch of expository detail about a creature does not for an engaging read make. Let’s see one of these Bluffalo’s out in the world and have it interact with stuff or have someone interact with it. Mustang Sally I dig the moxie of this. Historical stretch fiction we’ll call it. But beyond that, it’s a bit difficult to parse the action and the narrative. It also feels like the meat of the story is the cool thing that happens, in this case, the conversation with the aliens, and it’s kinda buried in the middle and the stuff around isn’t quite as engaging. Maybe shift the attention to that, and have it end quickly after with that sort of regret about what did or didn’t get accomplished. Focus on the cool poo poo, y’know? Comings and Goings At its core this is a simple story, beyond that however, there’s something more powerful. I did want for a bit more. I have a soft spot for stories that handle grief and this only kind of winks at the process, instead choosing to focus on something else, that something sort of excuses the process and draws more attention to whatever the intrigue of the dynamic is. I found it pretty to read, and did feel engaged, but it also doesn’t feel like much is earned here, these are moslty things just kind of happening. Pretty things, mind. The Bluff Stories with binary outcomes are inherently flawed, in my book. Either one thing happens or the other does. It’s clear about halfway in that your protagonist is never in a million years getting out of their apartment to address the concern. Then, that’s what happens and it’s hard to care. You have everything in the world to play with here. If that’s going to be the outcome, go nuts with it. Have the party evolve further and further so that it gets so crazy that the ceiling ends up caving in and crushes the protag to death. As it is, this is relatable sure, but just think of how it feels to be this person, everyone’s been there, and all that’s happening here is representation, give us something more. Edge of Everything Ok so you had me going. This felt like a Spaceman Spiff adventure, and I hope that reference means something to you. I wanted this to be real. And it doesn’t have to be really real for it to be real. Get lost in the bizarre alien poo poo, go for it. This has a great spark in it but I was hoping for it keep pushing further than it did. When the turn happened and the cool boots were introduced, I was totally here for it. Black Sunflower The story holds weight and tension when it’s focusing on the predicament of the dude with the worm in their belly. Beyond that? You gotta remember, we’re reading a lot of stories, quickly, and trying to come to judgment, quickly. This made my head spin a little. It’s pretty enough and I like some of the imagery but boy did I have a hard time making heads or tails of what I was reading. The captive quality of the protag and the dynamic of two entities struggling their way through this difficult predicament is what had my attention. maybe it is I liked this, but maybe I’m missing something. Where’s the prompt? I’m hopeful that nobody here, yourself included, wrote things ahead of time but I’m sturggling to see either “lost” or “bluff” in here. Regardless, the first beat is solid enough, I like how the parents are talking, it reads relatively genuine. I am suspicious, however, that you know who I am and what I do. If so, I certainly wasn’t expecting pandering in this, but congrats on that I guess. Anyhow, what then follows is some weird McDonald poo poo that kinda takes me out of things. The father and daughter’s improved relationship doesn’t feel quite earned beyond ‘he took her to therapy’. Mover I liked this. You have a mundane repetitive existence, interrupted by something. Always a solid start. And then we have a decent back and forth. I do feel like this is something that would happen more often than is led on? And I don’t think that would quite weaken the story. What is it about this specific move that makes it more difficult for the mover to do their job, y’know? As opposed to it just kinda happening once and then reaching a nice conclusion. Speaking of, it’s a little hard for me to get a clear sense of the outcome here. It certainly seems like the mover doesn’t move, but is that gonna be OK? Feels as though it’s just delaying the inevitable. I almost was rooting for the negative outcome and it causing a reckoning for The Mover. But, still solid. Last Call This was great. Sure, nothing terribly new, but the standards are standards for a reason and a good ol’ revenge tale in the west, when told well, can be a loving banger. And this was one. The setup for the story happening at the card table was great and I was a little annoyed that the payoff was kind of an afterthought, but then the real poo poo picks up and when it becomes clear what’s actually going on, you had me bought in entirely. Very well done. A Character is Lost I struggled with this. So much of the story is just people being coy and withholding which is fine for a bit but then it kinda lives there. And it lives there for so long that by the end even I, as the reader, don’t really know what’s going on. And that may be because it’s never clearly stated or I may have lost the will to be interested as these people are just being hugely circumspect and distant. I like the idea of the setting, it’s a good powder keg situation, and the set pieces are all there to have something solid, but let’s go to it. Nothing is ever truly lost I don’t know if we needed the frame story. Also the telling of the story of how the parents met isn’t much of anything yet it’s sort of venerated as this great story. Everything after that in the story within the story is actually quite good and I think I would’ve just enjoyed the tale of recovering the watch a bit more than all of the other stuff. Show me the dad hunting that poo poo down and the lengths he’s going to and how he’s not valuing the right stuff and what-not, that’s the part I was more interested in anyhow. Rakiura A very nice and deft inversion on the mantra of the journey being the meaningful whatever. The conclusion of having nothing to proove did somewhat come out of nowhere but it was a refreshing and surprising one, and handle well. I was invested in the outcome and I didn’t see it coming but found it cathartic in its own way. Good piece of writing. I don’t have much else to say. Resistance A decent narrative, all told, but not much surprising here. It’s just kind of a bunch of things happening. The backdrop of this being about something larger than these two doesn’t really add to the story in a meaningful way that I was hoping for. Also, goodness does this need some quotations. I see that it’s all told from a specific point of view but eh, this is just much less clear than it needs to be.
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Oct 9, 2021 09:18
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Alright! Now that I've gotten a couple hours of sleep... Thank you all for participating and an extra shout out to my cojudges beezus and qpq! If I owe you some prize money, message me on discord! If you don't have discord, post here on how you'd like me to reach out to you! In the short term, be on the lookout for a link to a survey for the viewer favorite. Beezus should be posting it shortly. Long term? Keep writing! If you pulled off a story in just two hours imagine what you can do with a whole week! Head over to thunderdome if you want more! Also, if you have any feedback on the contest, especially how discord was managed and if it was or wasn't helpful or fun to have, I'll appreciate hearing from you here.
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Oct 9, 2021 12:58
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Discord was definitely both useful and fun to have. Kept the thread from being full of tiny off-the-cuff questions and let everyone titter with anxious energy. edit: Also the video of judging discussion. Top notch 
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Oct 9, 2021 17:10
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Just checked out the video. Glad the judges liked the Bluffalo. My piece was sort of an odd one out since I didn't aim to write an actual story. Ended up going for a bit of a kids fictitious animal facts letter thing so the pokedex comment is pretty spot on.  Thanks!
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Oct 9, 2021 18:18
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 Congrats to the winners! Thanks to everyone who read my submission, and especially our judges - really appreciate the feedback and that you all went the extra mile with the video! Your comments are very kind and insightful. I definitely sabotaged myself, I thought I was blowing it with conveying the characterization and didn’t have a punchline/twist coming, so my idea to make it more engaging was to have a ~mystery~ “what are they up to?” running through the piece, but… it wasn’t a fun mystery to solve and frustrated everyone lol. LESSON LEARNED. Should have doubled down on the character work instead, especially the secondary character. Btw for anyone confused since it was intentionally confusing - they’re BASE jumping (which I know nothing about, so that was fun on a time limit). This is the first time I’ve posted something for wide consumption/crit. Really hyped, this was a blast! Thank you so much Chili for organizing. Thoughts on the Discord Loved it, it lets people chat and celebrate while keeping the thread easy to navigate during the actual competition window. Two possible adds that I think would have helped: 1. Some pinned guidelines on what to post on the discord, like where to go for rules clarification and where we should or shouldn’t post identifying things like titles and word counts (I’m a moron who didn’t understand what “anonymous” meant, I thought the judges would be anonymous, like we wouldn’t know whose comments were whose - I probably should not have been pinging Chili from the finish line channel with questions SORRY). 2. Maybe a pinned post just for the submission rules? Word count, format, time window, editing rules, that kind of stuff. Just to make it easy to find while people are rushing to the end.
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Oct 9, 2021 19:48
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That is awesome feedback. Thank you!
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Oct 9, 2021 20:21
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ya the critting was good and i think i know what i would need to change
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Oct 9, 2021 22:17
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I wound up having some things to do today so I only got partway through my crits but wanted to share what I had thus far. Video Timestamps 0:00 Introduction 1:26: An Otter Predicament 4:15: Bluff 9:00 We Will Not Be Okay 12:53: The Base of the Bluffs 17:10: Bluff 23:10: Drop 27:00: The Bluffalo 30:00: Mustang Sally 36:00 Comings and Goings 42:40: The Bluff 47:20: The Edge of Everything 51:45: Black Sunflower 55:56: Maybe It Is 1:00:35: Mover 1:08:14: Last Call 1:13:05: A Character is Lost 1:18:29: Nothing Is Ever Truly Lost 1:26:50: Rakiura 1:34:33: Resistance 1:42:00: Judging Crits - Part I An Otter Predicament What we have in effect is a small story of a card game between a talking otter and a man called the Admiral. Concept is cute. I’m ready to buy into the premise and the story itself is functional for its first half, albeit a little awkward and stilted, laden with confusing imagery (otters “looming around” a table”). Serious problems begin to manifest in the latter half when the writer seems to realize they have failed to characterize any of the people in the story or explain what the broader context of this story is about. We get some exposition-heavy dialogue that still doesn’t provide many answers and a bunch of card-based technobabble that leaves me feeling empty. Bluff This is a cute premise, playing on both the conventions of romance and Westerns to depict an loving, antagonistic relationship between two people. Unlike my other judges, I didn’t have too much difficulty swallowing the absurdity of the central dynamic and found a lot to like about the pair, even though the comedy the writer relies on is a little monochromatic and would benefit from a little shading in a subsequent edit. Three basic problems that I ran into while reading this are: 1. the entire first third of this story is basically exposition that could have easily been cut out (there’s little here that couldn’t have been shown via action and dialogue); 2. The dialogue goes on a little long in parts and I feel less like I’m watching a fight than a performance of one (which might be intentional); 3. The ending with the vulture solving everything is Looney Tunes as gently caress and doesn’t really address the pair’s underlying problem without some earlier suggestion that this was a performance piece more than an actual fight. We Will Not Be Okay As I mentioned in the recording, I am a big fan of stories that take a sudden turn for the weird and so was primed to enjoy this. Prose is pretty alright (though please put line breaks between paragraphs). Much of the surreal comedy hits its mark. Characters are not well-defined but they don’t need to be as my overwhelming impression was that of a Welcome to Night Vale-style vignette that doesn’t need to justify itself or its characters. Where this falters instead, I think, is in the latter half where we have a bunch of strange things happening just for the sake of strange imagery. That allows for some interesting descriptions but I was really looking for some unifying idea to make sense of it all. The suggestion of this being some kind of trick of scheme by the old man gets forgotten in the last section, which is a bit of a shame. The Base of the Bluff One of the strongest submissions for this week, both narratively and in terms of prose. We have a character with clearly defined fears and motivations. We have some very nice sharp sentence fragments that give this piece a percussive quality. While the specifics of what they are doing is not immediately clear at the outset (I was pretty deep into this before I realized they were climbing and jumping off mountains), the piece does a good job of capturing a very relatable mood. Like a lot of pieces this week, however, the characterizations are a little broad. That’s understandable given the time constraints but Emily is a little one-note and deaf to her brother’s concerns while Arthur veers dangerously close to grating. In a subsequent draft, I might give more dimension to these people and their relationship, toning down their primary personality traits. Bluff (Bluff story 2) This is a remarkably long and well-composed story for two hours. Individual sentences are clear and direct. The writer has a clear understanding of dialogue that helps the piece flow. The first segment of this is exposition heavy but it isn’t gratingly so, in part because it’s delivered through a discussion between two characters who would have an actual reason to discuss these issues. I also quite enjoyed Jokasta as a character and found her irritable air of authority consistent throughout. The problem, though, is the length. These characters talk and talk and talk. That in and of itself is not a bad thing (indeed, some of the strongest stories I’ve read are dialogue-heavy) but these discussions don’t seem to reveal much about the characters, produce conflict, or engender any change. They seem to serve primarily to hype up the strange interstellar object and the actual confrontation with it without advancing the characters toward that goal. The overall effect is that the conversations seem circular and frustrating. For the future, I would recommend thinking both about pacing (how big is my build to the thing relative to the thing itself) and what I’m trying to accomplish with my writing (what function do these discussions serve? Do they reveal anything new about the characters or advance their motivations?). If you cut this down to the juicy bits, I think you have the bones of a really interesting piece. Drop This is clearly a piece by a talented writer, overflowing with evocative imagery that stuck with me long after I read it. I love the idea of this magic mountain that causes all these fantastic things to happen. I love the narrator’s excitement about it all, their awed reaction to suddenly gaining sight. The strangeness of it all was deeply compelling, even though I found myself confused by the specifics of what was happening. However, this latter quality is what prevented me from rating this piece higher. I often found myself confused by the blocking, unable to understand what our narrator Sarah was and was not doing, and the relationship between Taryn and her. I don’t want you to justify this magic mountain but, I think a stronger second draft would provide some specificity to who these pair are, why Taryn brings her to this place, and why Sarah has such a negative conception of him. The Bluffalo This is a cute little piece. It’s not a story in any sense of the word but it’s understandable and gave me a few sensible chuckles. As someone who has, professionally, had to both read and write a lot of form letters like this, there were aspects of this piece that I appreciated. The writer seemed to know what they were parodying. As said on the recap, though, there’s not much of a there there. I might have considered introducing some kind of character for the reader to follow, even if you kept the epistolary format. Mustang Sally I have to assume this story is not about the real, historical figure Sally Ride, right? I spent the first bit of this story wondering whether you were going for wacky historical fiction, but I think the name is supposed to be paying homage to the astronaut Sally Ride. That confusion aside, there’s some interesting elements to this piece. I do like the classic “Lost in Space” vibe as well as the subsequent disappointments back on Earth. While some of the prose veers into sterile and technical, I have a clear sense of what is happening. My problem with this piece, as I said on the recap, can be chalked up to the alien who is a little overly zany and random for my tastes. He is just aggressively in the reader’s face. I would recommend toning him down a little bit on a subsequent edit.
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Oct 10, 2021 04:18
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Critis - Part II Comings and Goings This is a fairly standard piece of apocalyptic fiction, or at least something adjacent to it. We have two characters in a setting with scarce resources and only one another to depend on. One character’s death proves catastrophic to the other, but they make a promise to themselves to keep moving forward. Within those confines, this is a nicely written piece. The reader gets a few hints at the relationship between Elisa and her mother. There is an implication that there is much being left unsaid and many complex feelings between the two that I find compelling. The ending with the bird is well-handled and reminds me of the old sailors’ belief that seagulls contain the souls of people who died at sea. My problems with this piece are largely a result of the constraints under which this piece was written. Namely, we don’t actually get much real interaction between Eliza and her mother and, instead, their dynamic is only alluded to generally. The failure to depict the depth of their relationship before the mother’s untimely death undermines the impact of the mother’s death and the ending. I also find the lack of context on the underlying situation here to be a little distracting. It’s fine to be vague on the cause of the apocalypse, a la The Road, but having the mother talk about dangers and her desire to keep her daughter safe raises questions about what those dangers actually are. The Bluff (Bluff Story 3) Part of me appreciates this true-to-life depiction of my #NewYork lifestyle where I am deeply aware of my neighbors and the various noises they make (as I write this, the children in the apartment above me are screaming at their father). This familiarity primes me to enjoy this piece and, indeed, I find some comedy in the gripping that you depict here. While there’s a few sentences that are malformed (likely a result of the rush) and broad (some of these jokes will be familiar to literally anyone who has been in any city anywhere), you still mostly hit your mark. However, I found myself a little frustrated when reading this piece when I realized there would be no actual confrontation, no real action taken. What you have written is an entirely internal monologue and the longer it goes on, the more aware the reader becomes that nothing will actually happen. I would encourage you to think a little more about what is interesting to read. While not doing anything is realistic (just in the way I’m not going to do anything about the children upstairs from my apartment), fiction is littered with people doing strange or unusual things. This piece could have been much improved by having the narrator actually get up and gripe, testing their conception against what is happening with the reality of it. Edge of Everything I have a soft spot for stories about children and, specifically, about children doing child-like things. It is a delight to read about a young person unself-consciously enjoying themselves, running wild with their imagination. On a macro level, I feel like you do a great job of capturing this with the various games that your narrator plays while with their family and by themselves. That said, your prose is often a little awkward, a little stilted. While endearing in places, your sentences often seem to run overlong, use unnecessarily complicated words (I remember “abscond” featuring at one point), and typos. This is a problem that can thankfully be addressed with more practice and I would encourage you to take more opportunities to read and write, as your prose will become more natural and flowing the more you practice. My other problem with this piece is that it is occasionally hard to tell what is happening in the narrator’s head and reality. Some of this might be intentional but the transitions between fantasy and the real world could be better indicated so that the reader doesn’t think you’ve suddenly gone for magical realism or something. Black Sunflower On a sentence by sentence level, this is a truly splendid poetic piece. Each of your descriptions are bright and vivid, full of extremely evocative and compelling imagery. I found myself thinking for a long time about the pseudo-Biblical styling you’ve provided here and the cadence of individual phrases. However, this piece falls into a trap that I think afflicts a lot of fantasy writing: There’s no foundation on which these poetic images can stand. I found myself struggling to understand what was happening throughout this piece, not just in terms of the setting or stakes but in terms of who the characters were themselves and whether what I was reading was actual, metaphorical, or something else entirely. The writer needs to provide something familiar for the reader to grasp onto or to be extremely explicit about what is literally happening. If the writer can balance these foundational descriptions with the longer, more poetic elements, this piece could be something truly splendid. maybe it is In my notes for this piece, I wrote the phrase, “Thunderdome Classic approach: mumblecore rumination on trauma told through the lens of a fantastical world (in this case one with ghosts and magic and stuff).” I feel like that sentence, written at 1:00 AM while I was in a semi-delirious state, holds true. This piece does a great job of using fantastical elements to provide an entry point into more complex, familiar topics. I really enjoy the conversation that opens this piece and the dynamic between Nia and the narrator. Piece is mostly well-written. Where this loses me a little bit is in the second half where both the writer and the characters seem confused by what their overall goals are. There is some fumbling conversation between the narrator and Channing in which going out for McDonald’s and looking at therapy seems to absolve the narrator of their sins. The dynamic between the two characters seems under-developed and under-realized and, in a better piece, I think the writer would spend more time developing this and exploring it. Mover I really enjoy stories that take a sudden turn for the weird and this one did just that. I quite enjoy your narrator, trapped in a dead-end job that leaves them with bubbling anger and resentment. I enjoy the playful way in which you present the premise but hide important aspects of it for the big reveal. I like the absurdity and bafflement of the other characters living on the Bluff as they realize the situation they find themselves in. Piece is overall competently written and leans well into the surrealness of the situation. Like a lot of pieces this week, the problems begin to manifest in the latter half. The conversation with Rothfuss just seems to hit the same point over and over without introducing anything new and the actual conclusion seems to yearn for a more satisfying ending than was provided. Partly, I think this is a consequence of the story confusing the premise with the actual conflict. We, the reader, are more invested in a change in the narrator than in the situation of the Bluff (which seems to be trapped by a larger institutional failure). In this vein, I would have focused on the narrator’s change of heart, introducing more fractures in their psyche at the outset and doing more to show them himming and hawing over their role in a patently exploitative system. Make the resolution the character changing their attitude more than them magically solving the crisis. Last Call This was a fine traditional Western. I thought the narrator had a nice voice and a strong personality. They fit into a pre-existing archetype but I left this piece with a clear understanding of who they were and what their motivations were. Prose was otherwise functional. The gambling was mostly comprehensible and the ending seemed earned. My problem with this piece, and this is more my problem than anything else, is that I truly do not enjoy stories about card games. I am fine with it as a plot device but I do not enjoy having to read long sentences about the nuances and dynamics of the game. I want to emphasize that this is a problem with me, the reader, and not you, the writer, but I thought the game itself went on too long. Would have preferred getting to the point sooner.
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Oct 10, 2021 17:09
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Okay, confession time: My story is a sequel. Specifically, it’s a sequel to a story I wrote for our own beloved show-runner Chili in a brawl wherein he asked us to write a story where someone is lost. Since I bounced off the first prompt entirely, and had already written something for the second, that was the only thing I could think to do.  Of course, I did my best to make the story make sense within itself, but two hours isn’t a lot of time. If you happen to have read the story and would like to see the original, you can do so here. Otherwise, please accept my apologies for the missing context. 
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Oct 10, 2021 20:18
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I have a collection of very lean judgeburps I can offer. Part 1: An Otter Predicament A whimsical, cute premise wrapped in a story that did not capitalize on that whimsical, cute premise. I found the action difficult to follow and the characters difficult to distinguish from one another. The dialog would have greatly benefited from another pass, as I found it mostly compounded my confusion. Bluff I quite enjoyed the first few paragraphs, actually. Got a chuckle from me, too. You started to lose my a bit later on. Looney Toons imagery of the fight was fun, but their argument didn't really land for me. Ending seems at odds with the fact that they were shooting each other over this diamond. The irony is there, just sans impact. We Will Not be Ok Good language here, very nice. gently caress I liked this. You had me for nearly all of this. I have questions about what we’re experiencing here but I’m ok with you not answering them. A little bamboozled at the end when all hell breaks loose - it was a little difficult to follow what all had been unleashed - but still on board. The Base of the Bluffs I had difficulty engaging with your main character and found Emily to be a bit flat, so my overall investment in their fate remained relatively low. I did think your prose was solid, and you had some nice imagery throughout. Bluff (2) This was competently written really very clear, which I think is commendable given how much was going on. My co-judges have articulated this far better than me, but I'll echo their sentiments about pacing and length. My sense is that you hoped to build some tension/mystery early on with the first bit of dialog with Gregori, but the Q&A around this ship's movements wasn't particularly compelling to me, and I think that was in no small part due to the length of this scene and the circular direction of the conversation. Drop I don’t know why “He’s wearing a wizard hat” made me lol, but it did. I said as much in the judgevid, but while I did think there was some lovely language in here, I struggled to follow the narrative. I didn't need explanations for everything that was going on (I think leaving much unspoken is fine), but a little more clarity around the specifics would have been nice. The Bluffalo This wasn't a story and you know that, but I was thoroughly entertained throughout. I'm a little mad because I wish it had been a wacky story about a Bluffalo doing what Bluffalos do, those wily jerks.
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Oct 11, 2021 01:45
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Okiedoke! So all of the current victors have been awarded their prizes and nearly all of our crits are out. But, there's still some business to attend to. The viewer favorite voting is now open! https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScYlFTu8H4_x3gFt1QVAij7uqzZ-8eOjAJ5_D6sgbbLvadYlA/viewform The winner of this will also receive a 25$ prize! Do not nominate one of the four stories that has already been awarded, and please do not nominate your own! Voting on this will close a week from today.
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Oct 11, 2021 19:12
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This should be everyone. If I missed your piece or if you would like me to expand on anything I have here, ping me in the Discord. Crits - Part III A Character is Lost This piece is a long piece of dialogue between several characters arguing. There is potential here, both with the arctic theme and the clear frustration. The penguins, while not the most compelling hook, have the potential for comedy if used well. There are some formatting and grammatical errors but the piece overall is mostly clear. As I said on the video recap, though, this piece has some serious problems as it relates to its characters. In such a dialogue-heavy piece, it is important for characters to be clear, distinct. What we have instead is a piece in which every character seems to be playing as coy and wacky. It is as though I am watching an improv scene where every character wants to be outlandish and, instead of “yes, and”-ing, they are all trying to do their own separate thing. My advice would be to think critically about what each character in a scene wants, how they can convey those desires, and how they can best achieve their goals. Realize this is hard for a two-hour competition but I feel like it will benefit you in the future. Nothing is ever truly lost This is quite an interesting little ditty about an astronaut thinking about his dads as he faces almost certain doom on an alien planet. The central story is sweet and compelling, despite some weirder details that come out of left field (the vigilante bit feels like a loose strand). I enjoy your narrator’s voice. While the framing device does not work entirely for me (it feels a bit like an afterthought disconnected to the central story), I can get generally what you were going for. To improve this piece, I think I was looking for two things. First, I really think you needed to provide more detail on the central relationship. The broad strokes we get of Pop and Dad is cute but a little broad and fails to give us hints of the fissures in their relationship that seem to manifest later on. Second, I think we need the narrator to be a bigger character in his own recollection of the event. As it stands now, he serves largely as a dispassionate narrator which makes for a clear, impartial read but doesn’t really tell us much about this dude dying on an alien planet. Rakiura I really thought this was a splendid piece, perhaps my favorite of the week. You capture a really familiar feeling of burn-out in an age of crisis and the desperate, influencer-inspired “escape to nature” approach to resolving that. As expected, this ploy provides no restoration, no metanoia. Far from being an idyllic trip, the narrator finds themselves cold and miserable. The writer does an excellent job both painting these scenes and providing a window into the protagonist’s psyche. The decision to do something the reader wants (relax in the hotel) instead of the masochistic march through nature is a satisfying conclusion. I don’t have many comments here in terms of improvements. This is a very cozy piece handled well. I suppose, if you wanted, you could provide additional scenes about the protagonist before setting off and expand on their time in Rakiura. That would turn this more into a short story than a flash fiction piece, but one that could probably work well. Resistance When I read this piece, I was reminded of an exhibit I saw by the concept artist Jenny Holzer titled “Lack of Charisma Can Be Fatal.” The collection, displayed in the Brooklyn Central Library, depicted various people caught up in the prison-industrial complex and their appeals for release. The overarching idea was that many of these people don’t conform well to the simple narratives people like to tell themselves about the people who “deserve” to be free; that many of these people do not get to be the face of their own movement because they are not traditionally attractive or eloquent. I find many of these same ideas present in this piece, which introduces interesting ideas about the kinds of people who get to lead large protest movements and those forced to play supporting roles. From the first protest scene, the writer provides a series of evocative images that will be familiar to anyone who has been to a protest in the last few years. I was impressed by the ways in which this piece plays with the voice of the crowd and the ways that social media has affected how we think about movements. The narrator is understandably bitter and, while we don’t get much time with her, her self-awareness makes for a fascinating part of this piece. While all these ideas have merit, the actual implementation seems a little off in places and frequently under-developed. Outside the very specific scenes at the rally, it is often unclear why certain things are happening or what motivates certain characters. In particular, the keylogger detail comes out of left field and, while it provides a cool examination of social media interactions, I am unclear whether this is meant to be a good or bad thing. I frankly do not understand the ending, which could be a problem with my literacy or the piece itself. All said, there’s a lot I wanted to like about this piece and I think it has potential. It just needs more work than two hours can provide. Would be interested in seeing a subsequent draft of this if the writer wanted to expand it further.
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Oct 11, 2021 19:18
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QuoProQuid posted:I have to assume this story is not about the real, historical figure Sally Ride, right? I spent the first bit of this story wondering whether you were going for wacky historical fiction, but I think the name is supposed to be paying homage to the astronaut Sally Ride. I'm very bad at giving characters names. If I took the time to do it properly I would have spent the full two hours on that. So I just typed "Cool Female Pilot Names" into google and picked one I liked. Apparently she's super famous and everyone's heard of her except me and it wildly colored everyone's experience? Dammit.
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Oct 11, 2021 22:40
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curlingiron posted:Okay, confession time: My story is a sequel. Specifically, it’s a sequel to a story I wrote for our own beloved show-runner Chili in a brawl wherein he asked us to write a story where someone is lost. Since I bounced off the first prompt entirely, and had already written something for the second, that was the only thing I could think to do. thats super chill. i did the same thing kind of, i did the same story style i used in my first every brawl win (against flerp) and it was kind of a homage to that tho i dont expect anyone to know. it has a similar name and themes. being super original in 2 hours was hard when my brain was fried from the school week from hell this was a v fun experience and im sorry if i didnt stress that.
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Oct 12, 2021 04:42
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Chili posted:
QuoProQuid posted:
Beezus posted:
One of the greatest compliments I ever received on a piece of writing was (paraphrased) that the events were so wrong that a reader can see no way to fix things. The story was about a man with a decapitated neighbor. The neighbor is just going on living his life without a head but constantly gushing blood from his neck. The man is fed up and disgusted with this and goes out to procure a substitute head for him. It gets weird. There seems to be an air of anxiety in everything I write. Something is always hosed and its often not fixable, with the only way out being to push through to the other side. I don't have much to say because everything above makes sense. The overall idea was someone trying to pass off something horrible to another, willing person and I wanted a reader to be as unable to find a solution as the victim. The bizarre imagery and the confusion/discomfort in it is more or less what I was aiming for. Putting flesh to unusual or impossible ideas and imagery is something I love but I guess the execution sometimes doesn't pan out.
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Oct 14, 2021 04:52
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