When the world went dark, I was frying bacon and eggs. I didn’t even notice for an hour. The breeze continued to stir the sycamore leaves, and the dog next door barked insouciantly. Only when I needed to make a phone call did I discover the internet and power were down. Annoying, but not terrifying. It would be back up soon. Wouldn’t it?
When the taps ran dry, I began to panic, to the rising clamour of gridlocked motorists leaning on their horns.
My neighbour is a prepper. Pulling out his radio, he called, “Can you hear me?”
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Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here
They don’t celebrate Christmas. No lights, no inflatable Santa in the front garden. The lack of ostentation is ostentatious. What kind of person doesn’t embrace the festive season? A bad person, obviously. These are bad people, and bad people should not live in the best house on the street. I think they may be foreign.
Comings and goings disturb the peace at all times of the day and night, and giggling on the darkened porch. Low morals, definitely.
It’s my duty to report them, that’s for sure. Then maybe I’ll get to move into the best house on the street.
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Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here
To the side of the trash, they’d stacked a red easel among the desiccated pot plants and old paint tins. On the easel, a hyper-realist painting depicted a cabin in the snow. I couldn’t help myself. Turning as I walked up the path to the door, no footprints showed. Of course—I was in a picture.
The cabin was empty, and the back door stood open. In the yard, a row of desiccated pot plants and old paint tins flanked an easel with a painting of a wooden house.
I couldn’t help myself.
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Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here
When the tendrils began to fall, it felt like light warm rain. At first. Only later did we realise what they can do. In the beginning, all was joyous, like snow on Christmas Day. We experienced bliss as the things dewed our skin. It was rapture.
Now we know that they secrete chemicals that trigger our neurotransmitters. Perhaps too late we’ve started to resist. Our homes are sealed tight, and we go out now only in hazmat suits.
But I’ve made a terrible discovery. The tendrils are not sentient—they’re weapons. After them, something else is coming.
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Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here
There’s a rhinoceros in the woods. I know—I saw it grazing quietly, supremely indifferent to the fact we don’t have rhinos here. Either my sighting’s mistaken, or we’re wrong about the rhino’s range. This dilemma must be where that awful phrase “my truth” comes from.
Truth is truth. But then we must consider the chain of deduction too. Perhaps a zoo escape? That would solve my existential crisis.
Phoning the zoo would verify the possibility. But if the escape didn’t happen, my crisis returns. Maybe better not to find out.
I’ll make a nice cup of tea and ponder
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Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here
He was in the presence of a miracle. Not the burning bush kind. No angels swooped down with fiery swords. But a miracle nonetheless. The air coruscated, and nothing was quite like it had been a moment before.
A voice which issued from no mortal mouth sounded the bell of his skull. “Go forth and slay my enemies.”
That was disconcerting.
Though feeling a little foolish, he answered, “I’m really not sure that would be the right thing to do.”
“So be it,” the voice replied. “Many are called, few are chosen.”
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Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here
The sun rises through a sulphurous sky on a desolation of gantries and cranes. This is no spaceport, no futuristic capital—everything is grandiosely functional. And yet, tough men built great things here, proud of their skill, and easy in their laughter. But no more ships will slide down these slipways.
How did it come to an end, all this? A world has vanished, not just of things, but of communities. What will we do now, us welders and fitters and engineers? Who will value us? We are passing into history.
I do not care to go gently.
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Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here
The air held an odd scent, something metallic. Underfoot, the floor bounced springy as moss. There was music—like the plucking of a lute, but deeper and full of strange yearning. Nothing was as it should be. I drew my sword.
A knave materialised, wearing an outlandish motley jerkin and breeches. This demon spoke, but the sounds made no sense. Before he could ensnare me, I cleaved him in twain, head to toe.
The last thing I heard was a sigh and, “Next time, let’s try not to bring-through a warrior.”
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Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here
How odd change is, all my remaining days in this dark world and wide. Once, I knew a rainbow realm of all the hues. Once, it was all laughing and running and sweetness in the green, green grass. Truly, I do not mind my blindness—I own a fat album of memories to glory in. And I have sound.
But odd it is on a Sunday afternoon to hear the thud of gleeful hammering and sawing. Labour has become rest. And the true labour of my neighbours, when they are really at work, is silent and digital.
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Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here
Well, I didn’t reach the longlist with my novel The People of the Bull in any of the competitions I entered. I am, of course, surprised. But on reflection perhaps I shouldn’t be. I can console myself with the thought that perhaps the judges just didn’t understand the story, written in a simulation of the ancient language of the setting. Was it too literary? Not literary enough? Then again, perhaps it just wasn’t good enough.
How does a writer deal with rejection? Rejection or acceptance are nebulous categories—what one person enjoys, another may dislike. You can tell yourself you were just unlucky. But, better still, acceptance can be quantified.
If you divide the number of entries to a competition by the number of places in its shortlist, you get a measure of the probability of gaining a place in that shortlist.
Competition
Number of entries
Longlist Odds
Shortlist odds
Win odds
Bridport
3,038
0.66%
0.16%
0.16%
Bath
2,452
0.86%
0.16%
0.03%
Cheshire
1,984
0.76%
0.45%
0.10%
Blue Pencil
1.461
1.37%
0.34%
0.20%
Exeter
1,379
1.81%
0.44%
0.15%
Yeovil
1,048
2.96%
0.95%
0.29%
The number of entries was estimated from published data for past competitions, with an assumed increase year-on-year. The more entries there are, all things being equal, the lower your chance of placing. However, all things are not equal.
I can also quantify roughly how good I am as a writer. That’s one of the benefits of publishing short stories. You can find the acceptance rates of different publications through services like Duotrope (https://duotrope.com). The most demanding publication I was ever accepted by was Structo, with an acceptance rate of 3.85%. So that doesn’t quite qualify me to get into the longlist of any of these competitions until I improve the rating.
On the other hand, one of the competitions (Cheshire) does provide an individual critique, though not until later in the year. In the meantime, they did provide an interesting list of what they were looking for.
The Cheshire Novel Prize criteria
“I often get asked why certain novels made the longlist. Here are a few pointers as to why some novels sailed through and some did not: 1. An immediate strong and compelling voice; we need to know who is telling the story. 2. A strong sense of time, place and setting in the opening chapters plus seasons always help too to add atmosphere. 3. Good worldbuilding particularly for fantasy, dystopia and science fiction. 4. A little bit of status quo so we can see the character as they are now before the inciting incident happens to ignite the engine of the story and change your character’s world as they know it. 5. Conflict. 6. Stakes. 7. Ideally the inciting incident happens in the first 1000 -2000 words. 8. A quest – the journey your characters go on after the inciting incident changes their status quo. 9. Propulsive story – whether that be character driven or plot driven depending on genre. We need something to keep us wanting to turn the pages. 10. Profluence – cause and effect of events that happen. For example instead of having a list of things that happen (this happens and then this happens) we like to see, this happens and then BECAUSE of this, this happens and then BECAUSE of this, this happens etc. This was originated by John Gardner in his book, ‘The Art of Fiction.’ 11. Good description that adds depth and texture and moves the story on. 12. Dialogue that moves the story on and feels authentic 13. Questions raised for the reader to keep us reading on! 14. Some questions answered in the first 5000 words and more raised! 15. Does the synopsis start where the story starts? 16. Does the synopsis have a clear plot that is outlined with spoilers and the ending explained? 17. Good character arcs shown in the synopsis? 18. Can you show us in the synopsis how the character has changed?
The interesting thing about this list is points 4, 7 and 8. All the others are generic issues, but these three are tied much more explicitly to what appears to be the Hero’s Quest model of story structure. An inciting incident is the event or thing that forces the protagonist to leave the status quo and which drives the rest of the story forward (for example, engaging in a quest).
It is entirely true there is no traditional inciting incident in my novel, certainly not one that occurs in the first 2,000 words. The story is driven forward by two things that become intertwined: the material forces that are slowly changing the society and the way these become expressed by two battling siblings, one espousing change and the other revering continuity. Though there is a first chapter that leaps forward in the storyline, showing the consequence of the rivalry between the sisters, the unveiling of the material forces is on a slow burn. It might be argued that the introduction of the grandmother’s mummified corpse is the inciting incident. In fact, the grandmother is merely a motif for the struggle between the sisters.
I would argue that an inciting incident is not necessary for a story. I’ll be posting more about this later.
Neil MacDonald Author 