UPDATE: VOTING IS CLOSED!!
Hey all, if you don’t watch the American version of The Office then this might not make sense. Thanks to Cory Clubb for inspiring the idea.
Greetings. I am Dwight K. Schrute, Assistant Regional Manag… fine, Assistant to the Regional Manager, Dunder Mifflin Scranton.
I have been… you haven’t heard of Dunder Mifflin? Ugh. Hello? It’s only the third largest paper supply company in the Northeast Metro Region. Have you heard of paper? You probably don’t even know the difference between a dagger and a throwing knife.
I have been asked how a human being could read over 2,500 paragraphs in a few days while also having a job.
FACT. I am not a human being. I am the Scranton Volunteer Assistant Deputy Sheriff.
Okay, fine. I’m human. But soon I will officially be a wizard in training. I recently accepted an invitation to attend wizard school, and it was left on my desk by Dumbledore’s apprentice himself. All I have to do is make my own wizard costume and wand and arrive at work to be transported to Hogwart’s for training. The first spell I will learn is demoting Jim to Assistant to the Assistant to the Regional Manager. The second spell I will learn will be to turn my hands into claws.
Choosing these paragraphs was difficult. Very difficult indeed. None of the paragraphs involved Battlestar Gallactica and I was forced to rely on other criteria. Such as: perfection. Or as close to perfection as a paragraph could be if it’s not about the different species of bears and their genetic superiority to humans.
Writing a good paragraph is much like making a lovely beet stew. It must have the right amount of spice. It must not be overcooked or undercooked. Too much blood can overwhelm the natural umami of the beet. It must bode well for the roast rabbit entree and make you hungry for more. It must feel authentic and have a fine consistency. No one likes instant beets or other cheap tricks.
While judging this contest I made a unilateral decision to announce the individuals who made the longlist with their first paragraphs. These individuals win a free night’s stay at Schrute Farms and honorable mention (in chronological order):
David Kubicek
L. T. Host
T. Anne
Chuck H.
mythicagirl
Barbara Sissel
Miss Tammy
Jenny W.
John Askins
Bill Baynes
John UpChurch
Kate Johnston
Billy
Henriette Power
Kerri Ladish
Cat_d_Fifth
Vanessa
atsalem
Congratulations. I will spare you the next time Michael lets me fire someone.
The ten individuals below are the finalists. They win a weekend’s stay at Schrute Farm, a year’s supply of beets, and a 90 minute Swedish massage by my cousin Mose. He’s practicing for his massage license.
In order to vote for the winner, please leave a vote in the comments section of this post. You will have until Sunday 6pm Pacific time to vote. Please not e-mail me your vote.
Also: No campaigning for yourself or your favorites out there on the Internet. Don’t make me bring out my nun-chucks.
Because I expanded the number of finalists, I’m afraid only the top four runners up will receive the prize of query critique and signed THE SECRET YEAR bookmark (if you’re in the US). The grand prize winner will receive their choice of a query/partial critique or phone conversation, and a galley of the incredible THE SECRET YEAR. When I read it I cried. Then I captured the tears and dried them to use for Schrute Farm table salt.
Anonymous comments have been closed.
The finalists (in no particular order):
Josin L. McQuein:
Time works different in purgatory. I’m absolutely certain of this. Sure, they call it Geometry and there’s a man in slacks at the front of the room instead of some red guy with a pointed tail and pitchfork, but it’s still torture. And after forty-one minutes of equilateral something-or-others getting mixed up with isosceles what-cha-ma-call-its , I want to strangle myself with a hypotenuse.
Alanna:
You imagine time flowing backward, back upstream. The apartment door swings open and the messenger from the lawyer’s office comes into your living room, loads up the boxes onto a dolly, and leaves with them. The dust falls out of the beam of light from your window and settles back on the scarred wooden floor. The boxes wait again in the corner of the lawyer’s office. In the hospital, long wiry hairs suddenly lift up from the musty pillow, reimplant themselves in your mother’s dented skull. (The abiding image, for some reason, is her hair at its healthiest: dark glossy coils of it. You had a dream recently that you came home and found it winding like a rope around dream-lengthened hallways, and you followed it with the growing sense that what it would ultimately lead to would be unfamiliar, not really your mother at all, some demonic reverse Rapunzel, and yet nevertheless propelled forward, as though someone were tugging at the other end.) Eventually she sits up, combs her long hair, more hairs returning from the brush to her head. Doctors remove the morphine drip. Her flesh puffs back into firmness. She leaves the room, sucking the sick air into herself, drives to the office to retrieve the boxes. At home, she opens one and takes a sheet of paper. Ink flows from cramped cursive on the page into her pen; words into her brain. Her thoughts curl once more inside her, unform themselves into vague image, memory, piled heavily atop each other like drifts of snow. As you back into her house at the end of your visit, she tells you she thinks it will be all right. That you can go.
K and A:
Adelaide walked swiftly along the street, past the pirate who didn’t own a ship, and the Scot who’d never been to Scotland, and the librarian whose home didn’t hold a single book. Contemplating her own strange circumstances, Adelaide realized she was absently twisting the ring on her finger. As she gazed thoughtfully at it, a bright flash of light reflected off the largest diamond. Turning to the source of the illumination, Adelaide watched warily as the light began to fade, and finally blink out, leaving in its place a New Arrival. The young woman, not distant in age from Adelaide, wore a tight body suit of unearthly hues, and clutched a sign that read, “Peace Not Plasma!” But it was the woman’s eyes that captured Adelaide’s full attention, for they were bewildered, confused… and fearful. Adelaide understood; she had worn the same expression herself—the day she’d Arrived.
M:
My name is not Mara Dyer, but my lawyer told me I had to choose something. A pseudonym. A nom de plume, for all of us studying for the SATs. I know that having a fake name is strange but trust me, it’s the most normal thing about my life right now. Even telling you this much isn’t good for my case. But without my big mouth, no one would know that a seventeen-year-old who likes Death Cab for Cutie was responsible for the murders. No one would know that somewhere out there is a B student with a body count. And it’s important that you know, so you’re not next.
Jackie Brown
The masked girl was back at the screen door. The smooth mahogany full face mask was sculpted to her face, its carved slots allowing her eyes access to witness what sat before her on the other side of the door. Like a small brown-skinned ghost, she had appeared and disappeared throughout the long day, each time pressing her hands and hidden face against the ragged screen straining for a better view, each time stinging her fingers on the sharp shards jutting out around the holes in the sorry screen. She snatched her hand back when pricked, shaking it in a finger-whipping motion, sucking the offended fingers to lessen the sting of the tiny wire splinter, all the while never taking her eyes from the small veiled figure sitting in the middle of the floor.
miridunn:
Her mother told her a bed was for three things: loving, sleeping, and birthing babies. She had not warned her that a bed is also for holding new babies, cold and blue, against an aching breast, moving them from the safeness of the womb to the frigid air they will never learn to breathe. She did not warn her that in her bloodied bed she would witness the worst kind of death – the death of her soul; the loss of her children. But now she knew — for the third time.
Travis Erwin:
Coming-of-age stories are often fraught with symbolism, hidden metaphors, and a heaping mound of other literary devices. Not this one. I came of age while working at a dusty, Texas feedstore. A place where To Kill a Mockingbird involved a twelve-year-old and a BB gun. Of Mice and Men was a problem easily solved with rat poison. And David Copperfield was nothing more than a dude that made shit disappear.
Simon C. Larter:
It was one of those painfully trendy restaurants staffed by skinny hipsters in tight jeans and shirts that left nothing to the imagination, and she had brought me here because she knew there would be many opportunities to make me uncomfortable. We were seated by an effervescent pixie of a girl with long blonde hair and a bright smile who asked if we were from the area or just visiting. Margot said that we lived in the area but had heard nothing but good things about the food here and simply had to try it for ourselves. “My husband likes his food, as you can tell,” she said, and laughed. The pixie’s grin froze on her face. She wished us a good evening then pressed through the crowd of bodies at the bar and headed back to her station by the front door. I didn’t watch her go. Margot was looking at me with a smile on her lips that could have chilled every martini for a three-block radius. Her eyes were bright and very hard, and it had been three days since she found out about my addiction.
Lisa Marie:
Philip had cleaned and put away the wine glass that had her mauve lipstick print. He collected the half used make up jars that littered the bathroom counter and recycled the glass and plastic containers. He donated her clothing to Goodwill and dispersed her jewelry evenly between their two daughters. He even gave her African violets, in their cheery hand painted terracotta pots, to their neighbors. Yes, Phillip had removed nearly all the remnants of his deceased wife from their home. He hoped that the great cleaning, as he referred to it, would ease his depression and overall feelings of despair and hopelessness. Yet there still remained the grocery list on the refrigerator. Her loopy cursive letters in black ink floated on the page like a secret poem he could not decipher. The list had items that Phillip did not recognize. What on earth was she going to make? He needed, more than anything, to find out.
Maya / מיה:
The pomegranate seeds burst between my teeth, releasing tart-sweet juice. The wind licked my eyelids, and the orchard rustled and creaked. I relaxed into the fork of the tree. In that moment, nothing mattered– not marriage, not exile, not my mother’s pursed lips. Persia became smaller than the nub of bark digging into the back of my leg.
Congratulations to the finalists. Almost as impressive as achieving a purple belt in Goju-Ryu karate.
And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to set off some fireworks.
More about the picks and thoughts on first paragraphs on Monday!
Kate says
Travis, because he's making me want to read a type of book I normally wouldn't look for. And I live in Texas 🙂
tobycat says
Glad I stumbled on this blog. Some really good paragraphs here.
The one that most made me want to read more was K and A's and their "Arrival."
thanks, K and A
26brd says
Alanna. Yep.
Sarah says
Definitely Alanna.
Erin Richards says
My vote goes to: M.
Thanks for a fun contetst, Nathan!
K and A says
What?! Really!? We are absolutely stunned, honored and humbled. Thank you, Nathan!
This is incredibly difficult to choose between these paragraphs!
Travis: love the humor.
Simon: nice way to hook us from the start.
Lisa Marie: we love how you captured this aspect of loosing someone you love (plus mystery – great!)
Maya / מיה, simple: yet stellar!
So… top choice… er… um… hm….
Okay: Travis (it’s certainly different!)
Also, those honorable mentions were fabulous!
Chuck H.: we’re not entirely sure what’s going on, but we’re intrigued to find out.
Miss Tammy: anything that starts: “John Davis smelled like Play-Doh,” demands immediate attention.
Bill Baynes: this caught us so off guard! Love it! Just a few lines, but already it’s got us thinking.
Henriette Power: like the imagery.
atsalem: again, we like the imagery.
What a fun and interesting contest. And it’s so exciting to see people enjoying our writing!
CDX says
My vote is for Travis Erwin.
Rebecca says
My vote is for Travis Erwin!
Amber says
AH! 666 Comments! This post is cursed by the Devil! *fixes this problem by posting*
My vote's for Travis! Josin at a CLOSE second. 🙂
Congratulation to everyone who made finalist and runner-up… and congrats to all the entrants for being brave enough to enter.
And congrats to Nathan for reading them ALL. … You deserve one of those Swedish massages. ^^
Kate says
One strong yeehaw! vote for Travis Erwin, a man of few words with a humorous kick and a hint of fun to come.
Dorothy L. Abrams says
My vote goes to miridunn because it is so wonderfully heart breaking.
Terri Tiffany says
Travis!!
Mr. Blah says
Josin
Kathleen MacIver says
I'm going to vote for Josin L. McQuein because that's the one I'd be more likely to read. I don't know how else to pick!
But that said, K and A's gets my vote for being the most intriguing, M's is…wow! (but I don't care much for thrillers), miridunn's amazed me for the unique and very poignant way she portrayed grief, so quickly, (so well, in fact, that I'm not sure I WANT to keep reading), and Lisa Marie's has, perhaps, the most unusual aspect of all of them. Just the idea of a grieving husband desperate to know what his wife was about to cook, in an attempt to re-connect with her in some way. That is so powerful and so…specific. Not some vague and general "He missed her." In fact, I think that paragraph is a writing lesson in and of itself!
Phowe says
Wish I'd written any one of them, but it's M.
futuredoctor19 says
Miridunn
Moth says
Travis Erwin is my favorite.
liznwyrk says
Congratulations all!
I am torn between miridunn and Josin L. McQuien… Such different books, but both so amazing!
kyred says
Wow!! These are all really good. I suppose if I can't vote for them all, then my pick would have to be K and A.
Best of luck to everyone. The finalists were all great.
lora96 says
I like the Travis Erwin. Clever and cool!
e says
This is totally weird. I voted earlier today, and SAW my comment posted, but now it's gone. I only mention it because maybe it's happened to others; check if your vote is still there…
I vote Maya!
Neil says
Simon C Larter. Well done, I'd like to read more.
maggie says
Alanna. With heartfelt congratulations to all, I vote for Alanna. Her paragraph leaves me in wonder . . . and wondering.
DLJensen says
I vote for Josin L. McQuein.
Schmucks with Underwoods says
Tough choice. A toss up between Travis and M.
I vote for Travis. It made me laugh (although my real favourite didn't make the lists).
Congrats to all. Good stuff (even though some were too long — sorry)
kerrianne.org says
First of all, thank you! so much for the honorable mention. I'm beyond flattered, and psyched to keep going with my story.
I'm casting my vote for K and A.
J Robert says
Several different styles. Not my favorite style, but for writing I vote Alanna.
SAC says
K and A. I must know more.
Anna Swenson says
I vote for M.
Thanks for doing this, Mr. Bransford! You're awesome.
miridunn says
I will be deeply humbled by this–right after I AM TOTALLY THRILLED AND ABOUT TO BURST! Thank you so much for the vote and votes and comments.
Nice Knapsack Pansy says
Lisa Marie gets my vote…I want to know what she was cooking…
Nice Knapsack Pansy says
Lisa Marie
Jenny says
k and a
Karen Smith says
Not seeing my comment, so forgive me for the chicago-style voting, but I vote for K&A – it does exactly what I want in a story, starts getting me immersed, asking questions about what's going on (in a "I'd like to know more about that" way instead of a "huh?" way)
Midirun's is also impressive, as is Josin's.
Still prefer K&A for sheer immersive fun, though.
BCB says
Some very talented writing here. If I were standing in a bookstore reading the first paragraph of ten books (which I do, all the time) and these were my choices, there's only one I'd buy and want to spend several hours reading.
Travis Erwin. The man has voice. It's compelling.
Maya is a likely runner-up, but I'd have to read the second paragraph to make a decision.
Blodwyn says
Josin L. McQuein is my vote.
David Kubicek says
I vote for Travis Erwin. This paragraph grabbed me and made me want to read the book. I especially liked his metaphors.
howdidyougetthere says
I vote for Josin L. McQuein
Though I also really like K and A
Dave to You says
"VI) I will be sole judge. Unless I chicken out."
I read them all but…
I had to use you rule and thought I'd turn it over to someone who likes to read but doesn't 'write'. I thought I'd step aside and see what happenes.I promised I wouldn't argue…um, I mean debate. She liked Jackie's and made little notes for me and sort of graded them. That was fun too.
Thanks for hosting.
-d
Alexander H. Corsega says
Of ALL the entries the one of Meridunn seems to me the most promising for an intimate and revealing much-needed novel about this topic.
Dawn Anon says
I vote for Travis Erwin.
I have to add that i was excited to see David Kubicek in the long list. Of the entries I was able to read his had been my favorite so far.
Deniz Bevan says
I vote for miridunn!
Gloomy Gal says
My vote goes to Travis!! Congrats to all the finalists, good job all!!
Kim Stone says
M!
Miriam says
Alanna
Joanna Reid says
M gets my vote.
Falen says
Miridunn for me please. I was glad to see it was a finalist
Amanda says
I am voting for M. I was totally hooked by the idea that a high school student who is taking the SAT's has a lawyer who advises her to use a pseudonym. I want to hear what she did to rack up a body count!
Adrienne says
My vote is for M!
PurposelyVague says
my vote goes to M! i love the intrique!