It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

It’s been pretty well established that laughter — even smiling — significantly enhances one’s health. Therefore, if you’re not aware of the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest (“a whimsical literary competition that challenges entrants to compose the opening sentence to the worst of all possible novels”), now’s your chance to enhance your immune system.

For my part, I’m not a winner, but I made a valiant effort:

The dawn peeped through Wednesday’s — or was it Thursday’s? — sticky eyelids beneath Cara’s curious hangover as she pushed aside the empty tequila bottles and puzzled over the puzzling array of chicken feathers scattered neatly over the body of the naked dead stranger beside her, and then Cara thought: not again!

If you think you can write more wretchedly, you’re welcome to enter the contest. It’s easy; check here for details.

P.S. I hate to admit it, but I recently submitted — in spite of hours of polishing — a short story that started, “It was…”  Needless to say, an excellent way to ensure a quick rejection, regardless of the quality of the remainder of my story. Sometimes we’re simply blind to obvious mistakes, which is why a good editor will always be a necessary partner for a good writer.

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