SA Prompt | SA Results | BB Code
Date: 12-03-2019
Word Limit: 1600
Words Written: 6,667
Judges (crits):
Mrenda
Flesnolk
Chili
There’s very little time to be aware of yourself these days. Every moment is occupied, whether by responsibilities, work commitments, social commitments, family commitments, or simply because of distractions. The world at large towers over us, comes right to our doorstep, even into our homes. Often the only time we have to ourself is between events, especially as we travel to and from these events. This week I want you to write about the time between events, the time we have to ourselves, the time we have to discover little known parts of who and how we are, specifically as we travel through a city.
I started reading Joyce’s masterpiece Ulysses in spring this year and I didn’t finish it until Autumn. Difficult and broad, yes, but it was very much worth reading. While you don’t have to write the definitive modernist short story for thunderdome this week, I do want you to reflect, as Joyce did, on how the city is our modern home, but more than anything it’s the people, and people who are as obsessed about the very minor things as well as the grand occurrences, who make it the modern emblem of humanity. People come first, but a city is made of people.
You can set your story in a city whenever, or wherever, you want (although be aware setting up something too out-there might detract from your purpose.) And your purpose is to make the reader discover some of our humanities reading your very important prose; whether it’s the stumble to a late night café to wind down your night, the serendipity of coming across a blessing on the street, the escape of being lost in love’s embrace as we travel through the city in no-time at all, stopping off for lunch, a coffee or a drink before you hustle for a few quid, or even just experiencing time to think or talk to your friends as you drive to another friend's funeral. As much as your character should be traversing a city, they should also be caught in their minds, their ambitions, their hopes and fears.
The city is not the star, instead it allows the people to shine, and so is illuminated by them. Write me a story about the time you take for yourself, the time to be your most-self, as you cross the largest temples to humanity we've ever had, the metropolis.
No poetry (Looking at you here Joyce)
No erotica (Looking at you here Joyce)
Stories must be in English (Looking at you here Joyce)
No g-docs (I'm sure he would have managed that too)
Mrenda
Flesnolk
Chili
Week Archivist:
crabrock
crabrock
There’s very little time to be aware of yourself these days. Every moment is occupied, whether by responsibilities, work commitments, social commitments, family commitments, or simply because of distractions. The world at large towers over us, comes right to our doorstep, even into our homes. Often the only time we have to ourself is between events, especially as we travel to and from these events. This week I want you to write about the time between events, the time we have to ourselves, the time we have to discover little known parts of who and how we are, specifically as we travel through a city.
I started reading Joyce’s masterpiece Ulysses in spring this year and I didn’t finish it until Autumn. Difficult and broad, yes, but it was very much worth reading. While you don’t have to write the definitive modernist short story for thunderdome this week, I do want you to reflect, as Joyce did, on how the city is our modern home, but more than anything it’s the people, and people who are as obsessed about the very minor things as well as the grand occurrences, who make it the modern emblem of humanity. People come first, but a city is made of people.
You can set your story in a city whenever, or wherever, you want (although be aware setting up something too out-there might detract from your purpose.) And your purpose is to make the reader discover some of our humanities reading your very important prose; whether it’s the stumble to a late night café to wind down your night, the serendipity of coming across a blessing on the street, the escape of being lost in love’s embrace as we travel through the city in no-time at all, stopping off for lunch, a coffee or a drink before you hustle for a few quid, or even just experiencing time to think or talk to your friends as you drive to another friend's funeral. As much as your character should be traversing a city, they should also be caught in their minds, their ambitions, their hopes and fears.
The city is not the star, instead it allows the people to shine, and so is illuminated by them. Write me a story about the time you take for yourself, the time to be your most-self, as you cross the largest temples to humanity we've ever had, the metropolis.
No poetry (Looking at you here Joyce)
No erotica (Looking at you here Joyce)
Stories must be in English (Looking at you here Joyce)
No g-docs (I'm sure he would have managed that too)
8 Total Submissions, 3 Total Failures: