Underground Writers Network Forum Really! A New Challenge!

 

Last night I found myself discussing what I thought were the qualities that make a writer and amongst those, originality was one of them. Yet I was surprised to notice that I had the concept more developed in my mind than what I had actually realized. This "originality and creativity" consist to me not only of new ideas but the capacity of expressing old ideas in new ways.

 

To all this, a little thought came to my mind. Whenever I read a piece of writing I find myself dreading the use of clichés, but it ocurred to me that if they were used in an original way perhaps we could make something out of them. Make a cliché sound not cliché? Might be a crazy idea ;) but I think it might be fun to try and who knows? perhaps it will sparkle some inspiration here and there.

 

So how are we doing this? Well, the "old ones" know the basics already, but for all those who joined more recently and to set some parameters:

- Submit one piece in any style (poetry, prose, etc) using at least 5 clichés.

- Please no more than 500 words so that everyone else in the group gets a realistic chance of reading them.

- The deadline is December 20th.

 

How do we choose the best piece?

Previously we used to vote, but many people didn't get the chance of voting so I am suggesting a twist here:

- The winning piece will be the one that gets more positive reviews from members of the group.

 

We will feature that piece for the rest of the month, together with the person that gets to review most of the pieces submitted. One word reviews are not acceptable though, it has to be a review that demonstrates that you actually read the piece.

 

For a list of the most common clichés:

 

Have fun!

 

hi, thanks for the new challenge!

I but "scantily clad" on the list of writing, for the challenge, do you need it submitted some other way?

thanks, clarie

It would be great if you can submit a link to it right here on the challenge page, so that we have them all in the same page ;) Sometimes we get a lot of pieces submitted at once onto the literature area and the challenge pieces might get lost in between.

 

Great entry! I look forward to reading more!

 

Here is my offering to the group:

 

I paste a teaser here...

 

 

 

 

When is a cliche not a cliche?

When a true fact is not a personal opinion held by you

Is a new record the old adage

That all are about to bite the dust too?

Do we burn our bridges in blind indifference...

 

Read the rest here >>>

There's a few days left!

I am posting my submission here...I have never done this before, so I hope this is how to do it.

Kate (LiterateScience)

 

______________________

“Tell me again what happened,” Adrienne said, looking around and warily taking in her surroundings, trying to remember what she was even doing in the alley.

            “You were shot.”

By a mafia hitman who had the wrong person, she remembered.

            “How about them apples.”  She whispered to herself.

“I’d say they’re sour.”

            “But they had the wrong person.  I shouldn’t be dead!”  She was still looking at her body, splayed undignified in the alley, blood beginning to congeal around her.  The emergency lights flashed epileptically.    

She wanted to curl up and cry like a baby, but instead she glanced over at Damian, who was looking at her with eyes so dark they looked black, a sharp contrast to his mocha colored skin.  His eyes shone red intermittently, reflecting the paramedics’ lights.

He ran a finger down her cheek.  “I’m sorry.”

“And who are you?”  Adrienne backed up a step.  “Why can you see me but they can’t?”  She gestured toward the emergency personnel milling in the alley.

“We’re spirits.”  He stepped forward again, exuding sexuality out of his pores.

“So humans can’t see us, but we can see each other.”  He nodded, Adrienne continued.  “And how do you know my name?”

“I was sent to find you.”  Damian came up close behind her and she could feel heat coming off him.  “My mother wants to meet you.”

“Do I know your mother?” 

“Yes, but only in theory.”  Damian said.  “Come with me.”  He extended his hand, and she took it, hesitantly.  He looked like the devil personified, his smile promised sin.  If she hadn’t just died, she would be on this man like white on rice. 

They walked a few blocks in silence and Adrienne soon realized the street had given way to an alley, sheathed in fog, dark except for the hint of moonlight.  Damian was opening a door at the end of the darkness.  Adrienne noticed a name on the mailbox hanging next to the door:

 

L.  Beealzebub

 

            I should have gone to church and gotten confirmed like my parents wanted, I should have been a good girl, she thought.

            �Sometimes it�s better to be lucky than to be good, Adrienne.� 

            �Did I say that out loud?�

            �Didn�t have to.�  He smiled, looking like the cat that ate the canary.  Looking like a very sexy cat who wanted to eat her canary.

            She was in trouble.  If they had both been humans, maybe Adrienne could resist this man for a little while, but as it is, she didn�t stand a snowball�s chance in hell of not succumbing.

            �That�s right, sweetheart.�  That wicked grin sent a liquid heat straight between her thighs.  �Mmm.  Be patient, Adrienne.  Right now, you need to go.  My mom is not the most patient woman.�

            Adrienne stepped through the door into darkness as black as pitch.  With Damian�s hand on her back, she descended in to what she could only figure were the pits of hell.