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!
sopranosfan says
I'm casting my vote for M. This paragraph is very intriguing and I'm dying to know what is going to happen next!
If was reading the book right now, I would never be able to put it down until I finished it. This looks like so much fun to read!
Lindsey Corbin says
Wow! I Love M. What a great entry and it really makes me want to read the book! I'm curious about her story.
Konnie says
Josin McQuein gets my vote.
(Nathan, thanks for The Office reference. It (almost) makes up for all the @#%$&^ the Top Model references).
Tom says
I liked Maya's style but M. was the one that had me most interested in her story. So, M. is my vote.
Terrie Farley Moran says
I vote for Travis Erwin!
6p00d83451b15969e2 says
Tough choice, but I'm going with Alanna.
Cynthia Wilson says
M
natanygold says
My vote's for M; the world needs more [fictional] snarky teenaged serial killers.
Jaleh D says
My vote is for Lisa Marie. (I want to find out what's on that list and why.)
kd easley says
Congrats to all the finalists.
I vote for Travis.
JDawson says
I loved K and A's.
John Crusey says
My vote goes to K and A – I really want to know what happens next!
You may just have to publish all ten of these works Nathan!
cmd says
Josin L. McQuein
Two Crazy Coaches says
Tough to pick just one but M gets my vote. She hooked me and I want to know more!
Amy says
Dwight! Shame on you for taking credit for Nathan's hard work!
I vote for: Josin L. McQuein
With congratulations to all the winners.
the Lola Letters says
TRAVIS!
TRAVIS!
TRAVIS!
His paragraph came screaming out of 2,000 some odd entries and knocked my flippin' socks off! Loved it!
Somebody sign him please so that I can read his book!
Black & White Adventures says
M! Out of all of them it's the one I want to know the rest of the most.
RENEE says
MAYA.
Aim says
My vote is for M. I love true crime, and very seldom like fictional crime stories, but I'm intrigued now. Teenage killers fascinate me.
Eric says
They were all awesome, but M's first sentence hooked me immediately. A close second would be K&A. Thanks to Nathan for hosting.
scribe says
Vote easily gots to Alanna. Wow.
I also loved Henriette Powers and mythicalgirl both in the subfinalist list. If you are not published yet, please keep the faith and keep going because it won't be long. Not on any list, but one I liked was Wendy Sparrow.
I appreciated almost all the finalists and subfinalists but am puzzled over one popular finalist which I personally found melodramatic and predictable. Without saying which one, I wonder if I'm the only reader who feels this way?
kalincasey says
I vote for Maya / מיה
Congratulations to all of the finalists and honorable mentions, and congratulations to everyone else for entering!
[Word ver: "whecul"— as in we all cull out the winner!]
Christopher says
They were all terrific, but I vote for Travis.
Great contest, Nathan.
Donna Hole says
I have to go with Josin and "Geometry Purgatory" because it stuck with me for days after I read it.
Congratulations to all the runners up, and finalists. The only thing I will miss from not being chosen as an honorable mention is that supply of beets. I really love beets, and tthe presence of said commodity makes or breaks my enthusiasm for the salad bar anywhere I go out to eat.
I really can't comment on ALL the submissions; I read through the first about 800, and gave it up as an insurmountable task. Kudos Nathan for your frequent posts of "keep them comming" through this week.
I gotta tell you though, after skimming through some of the submissions after that 800 mark, I was pretty grateful I only have a following of 4 on my own innocuous blog.
So to repeat, my vote goes to Josin McQuein, though it was a really tough decision. They were all such excellent submissions.
………dhole
word verif: sycoman. Yeah; psychoman pretty much describes Nathan Bransford at this time, but he loves his job, and we love him, so . . .
Allison Brennan says
Okay, this is harder than I thought. I can narrow it down to four pretty easily (based mostly on my personal reading taste–Josin, M, miridunn and Travis.) But picking ONE? Much harder . . . The thing with these four more than any of them (for me, because I can see why they are all finalists) is that the voice in the paragraph already shines and speaks to me that I really want to find out what's up with the character–I instantly care (or am at least interested) in the main character.
But I'm going to pick M.
Why? Because in one paragraph she (or he) managed to convey voice, character, and leave me (the reader) with questions I want answered.
Allison M. says
*tacks a vote to Alanna*
polisocial says
M is for MORE. Hook, voice, stakes…sold. She has my vote
Davida says
Another vote for Josin L. McQuein
dadofnikki says
Alanna, of course!!
rachelcapps says
My vote is for K and A.
And I must mention my second fav too, Travis Erwin – love it!
liz fenwick says
Tough all as all are great but in the end it has to be Josin but ….
Anne says
My vote goes to miridunn.
KatMead says
My vote goes to Josin L. McQuein.
Juliana Stone says
Crap this was hard! But, I have to vote for Travis Erwin. His paragraph drew me in and I wanted more…..
an honorable mention from me to M…loved that one as well.
Good job all!
Jodi says
My vote is for miridunn.
Congrats to the finalists and longlisters, and thanks to all who entered. It has been a very enlightening experience. 🙂
brian_ohio says
These are all awesome… I'm so impressed and hooked… great, great openings.
But I have to vote for Travis.
Elaine 'still writing' Smith says
I'm voting for – Jackie Brown.
Travis was a close run second.
Mild grumble ~ I only got to read four books this week; I read every entry. (It took the same amount to time as three books: so, much harder to find my place!)
Julers says
I vote for M. Intriguing write up!
Bob and Julie says
Another vote for M!
Rakhee says
Jackie Brown
Rancid Baloney says
The choice for me comes down to K and A, M and Travis.
Tight body suit aside, K and A's piece tailored off a tad towards the end.
In the end I can't vote M because the phrase nom de plume irritates me and makes me think of French class in high school.
That leaves me no choice but to VOTE FOR TRAVIS. I do not like the word fraught either but the line " a dude that made shit disappear the best hook of the bunch.
And Nathan, your dedication to we wannabes forced me to do what i said I never would. Start a blog. Since I had to register for this contest I might as well begin tossing out my flavor of rancid baloney to the world.
Sandra says
Simon Larter is my vote. I love the way he uses descriptions in such a fresh way. "A smile that could chill a martini"….absolutely brilliant.
Amy says
M gets my vote, I really like the sound of the main character. I look forward to reading more!
beth says
My vote is for Lisa Marie. Excellent choices!
dylan says
Very hard to choose between these.
I've been trying for days.
Maya
Marla Warren says
Very tough choice.
Travis Erwin
susanamai says
My vote: M.
heidi2524 says
I cast my vote for K and A.
Thanks for having this contest!
LE says
Is M's a true story? I'm ready to read the rest. I choose M.
Tami Shaloum says
My vote is for Alanna…hauntingly beautiful!