A group of Story Street Writers entered the NYC Midnight 100-word contest together as a fun little exercise. At midnight on a given day, participants are assigned a genre, a word, and an action, and entries must be submitted within 24 hours. (Link below)
There were over 5,000 contestants divided into groups of 60 writers. The top 25% of each group move on to the second round, then the top 12% of each group in the second round move on to the finals. Top prize is $4,500, and another $3,000 is given out to nine more writers.
I do not expect to win, but for me the real value of the contest lies in the writing. The contest rewards stories over scenes, and it’s difficult to write a story that fits into a genre (my first-round genre was Epic and my second-round genre was Romantic Comedy), includes an activity (swimming – chugging) and a word (sprinkle – keep), while telling a story with a beginning, middle, and end.
The only hope is to write in the white space. Subtext doesn’t run up the word count, but it adds to the story. Every word faces a firing squad, and if it doesn’t serve at least two purposes, it’s not the right word. Everything, not just syntax, has to be expressive and evocative. Grammar and punctuation must be more than structure; they also have to push story, while also serving tone, mood, character, and other craft elements.
I wrote my first draft (also my first Epic) carefully, starting with a structure and then writing for brevity and imagery. I liked my result, which I titled Godspeed, but it was 161 words long. Nearly every word mattered to the story. My first edit cut maybe 15 words. My second edit was more discouraging than productive.
I went to bed. Fresh eyes usually see more. Also, it was three in the morning, and for medical reasons, I have a strict bedtime of 9:45.
In the morning, with extra coffee on board and following a brisk walk with the dogs (Frankie and Jojo), I spent Two HOURS shaving the language, and I still needed to cut 17 words. Another cup of coffee, another walk, and as soon as I sat down, I found a massive vein of fat to trim. The second paragraph below included a full sentence with two independent clauses explaining why it’s absurd to eat nachos at the beach. I chopped it down to ‘NACHOS!’ and I was almost there. More than cutting a sentence down to a word, though, I’d improved my story. I left some discovery for the reader. I let the readers make it their own story by challenging them to create the image of Chester, the ridiculous older brother who prefers nachos and chocolate milk on the beach over adventure.
One hundred and two words.
I eventually found the last two words to execute, read it about ten more times, and submitted it. Reading it now, as I write this article, I found another word I should have cut. The first ‘her’ in the third paragraph is not just unnecessary, it’s distracting. It’s repeated just three words later. ‘Her’ drops that second time with a clunk.
I know I did not produce a masterpiece. Still, it was a fun exercise that honed my editing skills, and I know I’ve spun an epic in 100 words. Receiving third place in my group also gave me a confidence boost, and I’ve struggled with confidence since February, when my brain stopped working correctly. Honestly, I’ve struggled with fear. I’m not an accomplished writer, but my writing has become important to my sense of self-worth. There are so many things that I could do four months ago that I’ll never do again.
It’s dumb, but I’m now able to approach my novel that will be around 1,000 times longer than Godspeed with more confidence. That’s well worth the entry fee and the four or five hours I put into the story.
And hey, the second-round results come out on August 7. Maybe I’ll make it to the finals, and then maybe I’ll win the $4,500 prize. That would be epic.
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Godspeed
Clad in armor of determination and held above the depths by pink floaties, Abigail kicks hard, pushing her boogie board through relentless waves to the blue calm beyond the breakers. Her gaze falls on her brother Chester, sitting in the sand, eating nachos.
NACHOS! The cowardly, disgusting fool!
She chooses glory over Velveeta and paddles into the biggest wave she’s ever seen. Poseidon, rewarding her courage, speeds her over a dangerous reef to safety, beyond the treachery of jellyfish.
Triumphant, she towels dry. When Chester distracts himself with chocolate milk, she seasons his nachos with a fine powdering of sand.
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https://www.nycmidnight.com
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When he's not swimming or paddling in the ocean, Jack works on his current project, We, a novel of love, loss, vengeance, and peace. An excerpted chapter of We has been published in Harvard's The Brattle Street Review. He also writes the twice monthly column "A Work in Progress" for Story Street Writers.
- A Work in Progress: If You’re Not in a Writing Group, Find or Start One Today - July 26, 2024
- A Work in Progress: The Value of Short Fiction Contests, Even for Novelists - June 27, 2024
- A Work in Progress: OK, I’ll Focus, But on What? - April 18, 2024
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