2010 Steampunk Writing Competition (w/ Prizes)

[Shaun]

I've been thinking of running this for a while as a lead up to Survival By Storytelling, Issue Two (the Steampunk Issue). And so, I am.

There are going to be two categories for this competition: short fiction and poetry. You may submit an entry into both categories if you are so inclined, but you can only win in one category.

The Rules:
--Submit a short story no longer than 8,000 words or a poem no longer than 40 lines the fits within the theme of "Steampunk." For a better understanding of what Steampunk is, see this post (http://www.youngwritersonline.net/showthread.php?t=4530), which contains links of relevance. (Poetry may address other aspects of Steampunk, such as fandom, fashion, etc.). Also, because this is relevant to the Steampunk issue of Survival By Storytelling, you should read this (http://sbsmag.wordpress.com/2010/02/01/issue-2-submissions-open/) to get a clear picture of where our genre lines are (meaning that we're interested in literary fiction as much as pulp fiction).

--Anyone may enter, regardless of location.

--Entries may be posted here OR edited versions may be submitted to sbsmag[at]yahoo[dot]com with the subject "Steampunk Entry" OR in one of the critique areas of YWO.

--The deadline for entries is May 31st, 2010 (that's roughly two months from today). If it's still the 31st for you, then you can still enter.


The Prizes:
--1st Place in each category (two winners) will receive a $15 gift certificate to Amazon.com or another online bookstore of their choice AND a copy of the first issue of Survival By Storytelling

--Runner-ups in each category (two winners) will receive a copy of the first issue of Survival By Storytelling.

--Winners may be prompted to submit their entries to Survival By Storytelling (if you're prompted, that means that, most likely, we're going to take it with minor revisions).

(Note: If you already own Survival By Storytelling, I'll substitute that for a gift certificate of equal value.)

Any questions?

Good luck and start writing!

(I reserve the right to cancel the contest if there are not enough entries (I can't possibly give prizes to people if there's no competition).)

[Shaun]

Get your entries in soon, folks! Deadline is fast approaching!

[Mercy]

The Little Things

The words sounded hateful. Not the individual letters themselves but the connotation they implied as Robert ripped his remarks.

“Those damn steam factories again! Margret, Margret, can you believe they’ve bought my factory? My factory, Margret – no, I would not like some coffee.” His three-year-old brown hat was clutched in his bulky hands; it already well-worn from being kneaded by furious fingers. “Don’t ya understand, Margret, I can’t support us anymore – I’ve worked there in the coals my whole life and now we’re bought out.” Back and forth, back and forth, he paced in the living room, his jacket whipping behind him.

Margret sat calmly in a beaten leather chair; the handle of a cup of coffee was held by delicate fingers, the grasp was still and balanced; her expression was stoic. Her blond hair was pulled back into a tight bun, her body drenched in black garb from neck to toe; death could look no calmer than she.

“Yes, Robert,” Her voice like a tight summer rain, “would you like to see the day’s paper?”

“If it again consists of scandal I dare not.”

“I’m afraid it is quite that.”

“Then let me see, damn it! Margret, you know I can never control myself from public matters. Let me have it.”

Robert trampled over the carpet, excited with a demented eagerness to read of the weekly public faults. Raccoon-eyes sped over the page, his lips tilted upwards.

“Aha, you see? Philip Daniels of the Bruckworry Steam Factory down south has been arrested for embezzlement. Aren’t you glad, dear Margret, I have never embezzled?”

“Of course I am glad of your ability to confine such practices to privacy.”

“And how funny it is, perhaps this will be over soon! Coal will come back, Margret, and steam will go. Don’t buy Johnny that steam train set, he’ll deal with one powered by coal. Yes, you see, everything will be fine.”

“Robert,” Margret placed her cup on the table beside the chair and glided to the window, her dress flowing behind her. “I have heard that Eldenborough has been ransacked by the radicals. They’ve quite all died; the people there, not the radicals, and many of the children were taken.”

“Oh, Margret! That’s all in the back of the papers! How unimportant life a few kilometers are! But dear, don’t you think coal will come back? All will be fine. Don’t you think, Margret? Once coal is back again…”

She stared beyond the glass into a broken horizon, smearing with fire-lights, “Your short-sightedness astounds me, dear.” The words sounded hateful. Not the individual letters, but the connotation they implied.