2024 Writing Contest Winner

Issue #28.5

Aug 20, 2024

Read on for details—including the entire winning story.

First, some background. My Substack, Writing Rhythm, gives 2X monthly tips and resources on writing long fiction (check it out and subscribe…it’s free!). One feature—and this is pertinent—is the inclusion of a different vocabulary word in each post.

**Photo by Giorgio Trovato on Unsplash**

On July 15, I tossed down the metaphorical gauntlet by proposing a writing contest, challenging contestants to pen a meaningful poem or flash-fiction tale utilizing as many Writing Rhythm vocab words as possible. This heterogeneous list was offered over a year’s time, and each word was defined in the posts. They included:

Pedantic, grueling, faineant, idiosyncratic, elegiac, aide-memoire, propinquity, eschew, elocutionist, multitudinous, denigrate, superfluity, tenebrous, bildungsroman, ascetic, irrebuttable, plethora, rota, de trop, penultimate, eldritch, ostensibly, dubiety, raison d'etre, caveat, dekko and bloviate.

Despite the obvious difficulty of this challenge, a number of folks picked up that gauntlet. Thanks to all who submitted! Before getting to our winner, let me mention some (but not all) of the runners up.

Margaret Ann Silver contributed an excellent poem properly listing many of the words in verse.

Margaret writes a fine Substack called “The World We Are” in which she uses poetry as a lens to view family life. The prolific Ms. Silver posts five times a week, offering a new poem each time!

Josh Allen submitted a short-short story with sentences which were amusingly overloaded with vocab targets, such as: "The two stood together in silence and propinquity as the multitudinous raindrops played an elegiac song on their raincoats."

Josh uses his Substack: “The Land of Dreams,” to try, as he says, “…to transcribe the crazy thoughts and stories from my head and release them back into the wilds of the internet where they belong.”

Multiply-published Scott McLeod creatively inserted many of the contest’s vocab requirements within the dialogue of a flash fiction tale.

Speaking of flash fiction, Scott’s Substack, “Son of Ugly,” boasts two-minute reads, mainly, Scott claims, because he’s “…too lazy to write a full short story.” (Me, I don’t believe it. Do it, Scott.)

Kevin Toland wrote a very funny tale of a pro wrestler whose coach tries to promote him by using unsuitably obscure vocabulary words. Kevin has a Substack but has not yet posted there. Kevin, I encourage you to start! You have the chops.

Michael Varma contributed not one but two very fun flash offerings including every vocabulary word and even suggesting future Writing Rhythm words within his tales. I strongly considered the second of his entries, but there’s a conflict of interest, since he and I are good friends and have collaborated on various creative projects. I ultimately decided that this judge could not be unbiased.

Michael, like Kevin, above, has a Substack but is still preparing it. His website showcases this award-winning instructor, published author—and professional magician. You can also check out his books and other creations on Amazon.

And now…drumroll, please.

Without further ado, I’m pleased to present the winner of the 2024 Writing Rhythm Contest—and his excellent tale (keep in mind that a requirement was to squeeze in as many words from the above list as possible).

Bursche
By Andy Futuro

Dearest Sen,

Where on earth did you find this bursche? Every day, without fail, I am confronted with irrebbutable evidence that he is an inveterate faineant. The first of his multitudinous failings occurred the morning of his arrival. He garbled his introductory aide-memoire so thoroughly it resembled more eldritch nonsense than speech befitting a member of the motorized hussars, and when brought to account he bloviated shamelessly. I need a reliable servant to convey messages, drive my charabanc, prepare my suppers, brush and darn my uniform, and arrange clean and orderly quarters — not a bumbling would-be elocutionist with a superfluity of excuses who eschews any task more grueling than lifting a spoon to his blubbering lips from a bowl of unearned rations.

Would you believe that on the eve of our deployment to the Piquaw Valley, I found him idling in a granary with his nose stuck in some fantastical bildungsroman? He is ostensibly literate so naught but sloth prevents him from casting so much as a dekko at the daily rota. In any case, he has made himself de trop and his services will no longer be necessary. We are at war, and the tenebrous fates of battle ill suit his languorous nature. Please send another bursche posthaste.

Sincerely, your brother,
Caenfeld

***

Dear Caen,

As usual, you leave scant dubiety regarding your opinion — an idiosyncrasy no doubt useful in the martial context and nowhere else. I cannot help but recall the denigrations levied against your penultimate bursche. You accused him of “having an elegiac disposition, unbecoming of the valet of an officer.” Caen, the boy had lost both parents in the Verzatjin Putsch. Do you not recall the caveat with which I agreed to replace him? That it would be the last time such a request would be honored?

Do you imagine my raison d'etre is tormenting you with inferior servants? Or could the wellspring of your discontent be of a personal nature? Allow me to indulge in some of that martial brusqueness — you, dear brother, speaking of inveteracy, are a pedant, demanding fresh recruits conform to the ascetic life of a soldier while being simultaneously assailed by a plethora of novel dangers.
Time! Time and patience — lend these to the boy. You must cultivate propinquity; it does not spring freely from the ether.
Your request is not denied; it is not even considered. To quote Mathis, “Mold the clay that is yielded from the earth.” Soldiers are not born but made. And we have not endless young men to feed the dogs of war.

With sincere regards, your brother,
Senneford

***

Sen,

You’ll forgive a perfunctory reply. Time and patience have deserted us — as well as my erstwhile bursche, who fled battle at the first cannonade. He was spared an ignominious court-marshal by the shell of a six-ton mortar, which returned his clay to the earth unmolded. I cast no aspersions on his memory. He was but a callow calf in a pusillanimous herd, all baying and trampling one another to escape the slaughter.

The Piquaw Valley is overrun; the enemy have moved heavy cannon into the Tallinn Reach and are poised to siege Vardun. Matters of brushed uniforms and orderly quarters are of no import — the very integrity of the army is threatened by rout.

I write this on the road to Vardun — you must move the family to safety. There will be many an orphan made this day with vengeance calling them to serve.

— C

What I particularly appreciated about this entry was the epistolary (regarding letter-writing) approach. I thought highlighting three missives between brothers back in time was the perfect way to work in some of the older words I’ve uncovered. Plus, as I told Andy, I loved learning a few words myself, including bursche.

He also wins the collectible prize of my two signed, out-of-print books.

Speaking of books, you really should consider Andy’s book, “No Dogs in Philly,” which he is releasing—chapter by chapter—on his Substack, with no charge. Since his submission, I’ve subscribed. Andy describes it as a “cyberpunk horror noir.” In my opinion, it’s in the same science fiction vein as Philip K. Dick, also Richard K. Morgan’s “Altered Carbon.” In other words, this is creative, deep, dark, and very readable science fiction.

I am enjoying it so much, in fact, that I just ordered the paperback from Amazon, the better to read the whole book in one gulp.

Again, thanks to all who submitted. You’re welcome to try again in a year! I’ll close this post with the feature that prompted the whole contest. Surely you recall this word, just introduced by Andy’s story. Or do I need to, say, write you a letter?