Bulwer-Lytton rules.
When Snoopy wrote: it was a dark and stormy night, the crafty Beagle was, of course, plagiarising the late Edward George Bulwer-Lytton. The cainine theft is a copy of the first line of Bulwer-Lytton’s novel titled Paul Clifford.
I have known about him because of Snoopy and the competition, and so was quite excited when a copy of The Last Days Of Pompeii by Sir Edward Bulwer-Lytton, Bart. (Bart.???) recently arrived in our shop. Complete edition with notes, nogal. I am very happy to report that he does not disappoint. The first line of the book sets the whole tone, thus: Book The First: Capter one: The two gentlemen of Pompeii: “Ho, Diomed, well met!” Do you sup with Glaucus tonight?” said a young man of small stature, who wore his tunic in those loose and effiminate folds which proved him to be a gentleman and a coxcomb.
From the 1834 edition.
The competition that has resulted from this atrocious assault on the language is like no other. It seeks not to reward good writing, but bad. It also seeks not to have to wade through endless reams of prose. Therefore only first lines of the worst of all possible novels are accepted. In setting the tone the slogan of the competiton reads: where www means: wretched writers welcome. Since 1982 it has been sponsored by the English Department of San Jose University, and has set an admirably high bar in sheer bad taste. .
Regard, if you dare, the winning entry for 2008:
““Theirs was a New York love, a checkered taxi ride burning rubber, and like the city their passion was open 24/7, steam rising from their bodies like slick streets exhaling warm, moist, white breath through manhole covers stamped "Forged by DeLaney Bros., Piscataway, N.J."”
Garrison Spik
Washington, D.C.
Every year several entrants receive the high accolade of dishonorable mention. This year brought forth a particularly incisive entry for children’s literature:
“Joanne watched her fellow passengers - a wizened man reading about alchemy; an oversized bearded man-child; a haunted, bespectacled young man with a scar; and a gaggle of private school children who chatted ceaselessly about Latin and flying around the hockey pitch and the two-faced teacher who they thought was a witch - there was a story here, she decided.”
Tim Ellis
Haslemere, U.K.
And there’s this, in the adventure category:
“Leopold looked up at the arrow piercing the skin of the dirigible with a sort of wondrous dismay -- the wheezy shriek was just the sort of sound he always imagined a baby moose being beaten with a pair of accordions might make.”
Shannon Wedge
New Hampshire
Even as we speak I am turing my hand to composing something for next year’s competition. You will wince when you read it. Yes you will.
When Snoopy wrote: it was a dark and stormy night, the crafty Beagle was, of course, plagiarising the late Edward George Bulwer-Lytton. The cainine theft is a copy of the first line of Bulwer-Lytton’s novel titled Paul Clifford.
I have known about him because of Snoopy and the competition, and so was quite excited when a copy of The Last Days Of Pompeii by Sir Edward Bulwer-Lytton, Bart. (Bart.???) recently arrived in our shop. Complete edition with notes, nogal. I am very happy to report that he does not disappoint. The first line of the book sets the whole tone, thus: Book The First: Capter one: The two gentlemen of Pompeii: “Ho, Diomed, well met!” Do you sup with Glaucus tonight?” said a young man of small stature, who wore his tunic in those loose and effiminate folds which proved him to be a gentleman and a coxcomb.
From the 1834 edition.
The competition that has resulted from this atrocious assault on the language is like no other. It seeks not to reward good writing, but bad. It also seeks not to have to wade through endless reams of prose. Therefore only first lines of the worst of all possible novels are accepted. In setting the tone the slogan of the competiton reads: where www means: wretched writers welcome. Since 1982 it has been sponsored by the English Department of San Jose University, and has set an admirably high bar in sheer bad taste. .
Regard, if you dare, the winning entry for 2008:
““Theirs was a New York love, a checkered taxi ride burning rubber, and like the city their passion was open 24/7, steam rising from their bodies like slick streets exhaling warm, moist, white breath through manhole covers stamped "Forged by DeLaney Bros., Piscataway, N.J."”
Garrison Spik
Washington, D.C.
Every year several entrants receive the high accolade of dishonorable mention. This year brought forth a particularly incisive entry for children’s literature:
“Joanne watched her fellow passengers - a wizened man reading about alchemy; an oversized bearded man-child; a haunted, bespectacled young man with a scar; and a gaggle of private school children who chatted ceaselessly about Latin and flying around the hockey pitch and the two-faced teacher who they thought was a witch - there was a story here, she decided.”
Tim Ellis
Haslemere, U.K.
And there’s this, in the adventure category:
“Leopold looked up at the arrow piercing the skin of the dirigible with a sort of wondrous dismay -- the wheezy shriek was just the sort of sound he always imagined a baby moose being beaten with a pair of accordions might make.”
Shannon Wedge
New Hampshire
Even as we speak I am turing my hand to composing something for next year’s competition. You will wince when you read it. Yes you will.
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