Bad fiction writers club

[webrockk]

Inspired by this; http://bulwer-lytton.com/ , myself and a member of another forum began a thread to draw out the bad writer that exists in all of us, and it's hilariously fun and addictive.

This is not a contest and there will be no judges or winners but there needs to be a few basic rules:

Entries must consist of one sentence. If necessary, the sentence may be extended with colons, semicolons and ellipses.

Any genre is acceptable (keep it clean, though...no explicit raunchiness)

Entries may be of any length, but shorter is much better....50 to 100 words is a good rule of thumb.

Entries may be drawn from any point in your "story", but try to focus more on the opening "hook" of your hypothetical novel.

It's more fun if you approach the challenge as a serious author who doesn't know they're terrible....some of us won't know the difference.

To start the ball rolling, I will lead off with a few of my entries from the other forum.

Have fun!

[webrockk]

The English language had yet to coin a word that properly describes the warm rancid soup of anticipation, fear and dread that coursed through me as I reached for the door knob at the top of the stairs, but this indescribable bouillabaisse of emotion was not even in the same zip code with the unmerciful rage I would unleash on my daughter's kidnappers.

[webrockk]

Whether it was the relief of putting the complicated hit behind him or the chilly November night that teased out the long absent jauntiness in his step, Salvator "Slits" DiCarlo appeared genuinely happy to be back in the city, back in the old crew's good graces, and back in the game.

[webrockk]

Even from the hall, the overpowering stench told me the dingy caramel glow in his office would be from a ten thousand cigarette layer of nicotine baked on a naked bulb hanging from a frayed wire in the center of a likely cracked and water stained ceiling, but I was broke, he was cheap, and I had to find her.

[webrockk]

It wasn't just the flawless proportions of her raven hair framed face that found him staring at her crumpled old mugshot too many times to be innocently explained to his inquisitive, often intrusive new wife, it was the story told by her eyes; their story... a story James Asher Quinn knew all too well but could never reveal.

[webrockk]

The bitter cold clawed at her exposed skin as she desperately searched for any memory, for any clue, but there was no explanation for how she, a beautiful and pampered socialite from a swanky enclave on the outskirts of La Jolla, California, could find herself in the Appalachian Mountains, in January, alone and woefully underdressed for the climate...but Charity Ross-Bingington was not always pampered.

[webrockk]

The large unkempt fern, a "Welcome to the Beach" gift from the friendly, now long evacuated family next door, let go of another flurry of crispy leaves as its colorful, macrame trussed ceramic container ominously bumped and swayed from its rusty hook in the rapidly freshening breeze; was this really the best of ideas, she thought... second, maybe third, maybe fourth guessing her spontaneous decision to ride out what was shaping up to be a storm destined for the history books.

[webrockk]

@Gypsy

[Gypsy]

@Gypsy

Are you saying I'm a bad writer? lol I'll jump in later, not having a good day.
It's good to see you participating!

[webrockk]

Are you saying I'm a bad writer? lol I'll jump in later, not having a good day.
It's good to see you participating!

No, no...I'm inviting you to play! I'm sorry you're having a rough day.