Write A Novel In A Week : Vote for a winner

Well, *you* can't vote, but people did...

Here are the entries to the 'Write A Novel In A Week' competition.

If you thought it would be dominated by the copywriters amongst us, you'd be wrong. A designer and account manager took part. Who knew so many would rise to the Herculean task set before them? Nietzsche would weep at the supermen that walk amongst us.

So take a couple of minutes out of your hectic schedules to read what a week of furious creativity has produced, and then vote for your favourite. And feel free to vote for your own entry - you deserve some some recognition. And I'm voting for mine (might save me having to buy a prize).

Funt - practicing dentistry on gift horses in a kennel full of sleeping dogs




Entry 1

Derek the daddy-long legs was the most frustrated creature of all. He desperately wanted to make an impact on the household like the others - Matthew and Michaela the mice who had wreaked havoc in the larder, Elaine the earwig who had scuttling down to a tee and Walter the wasp who’s buzzing irritated the hell out of the human residents. But Derek was just too wimpy, and when he changed his name to Dirk to try and sound harder, the others just laughed. One day Poppy the dog swallowed him by mistake. And that was the end of that.

Entry 2

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit. Aliquam tempus. Nunc sit amet dui. Suspendisse nonummy augue at nunc. Donec consectetuer, tellus eu mattis pretium, mauris tortor sollicitudin est, euismod malesuada ligula ipsum vel massa. Morbi sapien tortor, fringilla eget, sagittis nec, varius quis, massa. Phasellus et neque. Curabitur lacus. Duis convallis ipsum. Sed sed massa. Nam nec urna eget erat dictum lacinia. Aenean ipsum. Integer lobortis diam a nibh. Mauris placerat urna sit amet arcu. Aliquam nonummy magna non dui. Mauris congue nisi eget purus. Curabitur elit magna, tristique sed, pretium in, sagittis nec, neque. Ut risus. Sed eu.

Entry 3

Though his dialect remained crude, Tim understood from the chief’s broad grin that today was ‘important day’. His initiation as tribesman?


Up in the tree hut, he thumbed his journal: memories of how he’d taught them to use handkerchiefs and play bridge. They’d been reticent; but now they wanted to thank him!


A happy chorus rose from below. Tim donned his headdress and started climbing down. The whooping crowd caught him on their shoulders and carried him like a king. If National Geographic could see him now!


Then the tribespeople rubbed sweet marinade on Tim’s thighs. And roasted the motherfucker.


Entry 4

In the bowels of the government headquarters, Faitherful-Servant-1 eyed the Funster suspiciously, his eye bulging like a worm squeezed through the eye of a needle.



“Fun is ruining the order of our perfectly oiled city,” FS1 barked. “It’s war. On fun, silliness and pointlessness. Surrender, or the missile launches.”



“Never. Life without fun is like a donut with no jam, like a…-“



“RIGHT. The Pointless War begins!” he screeched, pressing the silver button.



The Faithful Servant burst into flames, rules erupted and regulation briefcases exploded. The Funster grinned unharmed. The government had realised too late - sensibleness would eat itself.


Entry 5

I spat sandwich into my hand.

'Go back?' I asked. 'Why would we go back?'

'We have no choice,’ she said. ‘Everything is there for people to find. We have to go back.'

I flicked away the sandwich. Nothing to say.

Off we went.



Place deserted, doors open. Our sculpture started on ground and rose up through the floors we had knocked through. We grabbed up tools, wiped down door handles, gathered up dust sheets.

'Wait.' She dashed back, and took a shot of our work with her phone.

'Not our best...'

'True.'

'Now?'

'I'm thinking a carrot. KFC.'

'Cool.'