A while back, I entered a writing contest for “Not Quite Write.” When I entered the contest, I knew almost nothing about the company, so I entered based 100% on the contest rules. There were four rules. First, it had to be no more than 600 words. Second, it had to have someone cross a line (figuratively or literally). Third, it had to use the word “rite” somewhere in it. According to the rules, this could be “rite” itself, or it could be another word that includes “rite” in it. Fourth, they told us to ignore the rule, “avoid all adverbs.
After entering the contest, it was soon clear that I wasn’t going to make the cut. In listening to their podcast specifically about the contest entries, I realized I’d definitely taken a different route than they wanted.
The Story
“Now, there’s one rule. Don’t cross that line. Stay on this side of the line, and you’ll be safe,” the man leading the group loudly explained.
Normally, I would happily comply with his request, but he’d said it so bossily. Plus, I wasn’t even sure why I was here. I guess, I thought coming to the protest would instantaneously impress the guy that I liked. As I stood there, I quickly realized that I didn’t care about some obscure bug and its habitat being silently destroyed.
“We can protest as long as we stay within the parameters,” the man continued to explain.
I slowly turned toward the guy I’d been trying to impress. Oliver wasn’t even that attractive. Why was I foolishly doing this?
“Write your name on the paper so they’ll know who came,” Oliver excitedly told me, enthusiastically holding out a clipboard.
I reluctantly grabbed the paper from him and quickly scanned the list of names, seeing all these people who were fully dedicated to the cause. I instantly knew what I had to do; I didn’t belong here. Without writing my own name on the list, I handed it to the person next to me, and then I slowly started to inch my way toward the line that we weren’t supposed to cross.
“What are you doing?” Oliver worriedly asked.
I didn’t respond. A certain part of me knew that I should care. After all, the red-bellied Amazonian giant beetle, or whatever it was called, was facing extinction in the wild. Yet, I knew that I couldn’t throw myself full-heartedly into caring about this obscure bug that I’d never even heard of three days ago.
“You don’t want to go that way. Don’t cross the line,” Oliver nervously told me.
“Yeah, stay on this side of the line,” someone else halfheartedly told me.
“Nothing good will come of it,” another person unenthusiastically warned me.
I continued to slowly creep closer and closer to the line. With only a short distance between me and the line, I felt someone tap me on the shoulder.
“What do you think of the red-bellied whatever it’s called beetle?” the man jokingly asked me.
“Um,” I responded.
“My thoughts exactly. Are you going to step over that line?” the man asked me curiously.
I nodded.
“Want to do it together?” he excitedly asked.
I nodded again, and the man eagerly grabbed my hand. Together, we cautiously crossed the line, the line that we’d been repeatedly told not to cross. Once I was fully on the other side of the line, I quickly dropped the unknown man’s hand and nervously paused, half expecting a policeman to arrest us both.
“Eric,” the man said, holding out his hand for me to shake.
I willingly grabbed it.
“Nicole.”
“How’d you end up there?” Eric asked me.
“Trying to impress a guy I thought I liked,” I reluctantly admitted. “You?”
“Mine was a woman,” Eric embarrassedly admitted. “Clearly not the right one for me.”
Both of us stood there awkwardly for a few seconds.
“Want to get out of here?” Eric shyly asked.
“Yes, please,” I readily agreed.
Eric quickly grabbed my hand again, and we were soon running down the street. I coyly glanced over at him and wondered for a moment what I’d ever seen in Oliver. This guy was much better-looking, and we’d made an instantaneous connection, one that I’d never shared with Oliver in the over three years I’d known him. I knew right away that stepping out of line to step over the line was well worth it.
Where I Went Wrong
So I’ll admit that I went overboard with the adverbs. In my own defense, I thought that they wanted a lot of them. Had I realized that they just wanted me to have some, I would have used a more reasonable amount.
I also feel like I probably should have been a little less obsessed with the line. In looking at some of the entries that did well, the judges seemed to prefer when they made the line a less obvious part of the story. In listening to the podcast, they also liked entries that were more creative in their use of a “rite” word, although in looking through the entries that did well, many of them used “rite.” Ultimately, I guess I went wrong in pretty much every way that I could go wrong other than meeting the word count criteria.
Explaining My Choice
I’ll be honest. In reading through the story, it is a bit weird. The prompt to write a story where someone crosses a line brought to mind a physical line that protesters can’t cross. I also thought about someone who was at that protest who really didn’t want to be there. I knew she was there only to impress a guy that she likes. In my mind, that line was there, and she had to cross the line. I wanted a story that many people could relate to. I think we’ve all done dumb things to impress someone else.
The idea for the guy crossing the line with her came after I started the story. In the end, I didn’t write the story that the judges wanted, and I don’t think I captured the connection that I hoped to capture.
What I Would Do Differently
Fortunately, as is the case with every writing contest, I can learn something from this experience. Next time, I won’t do what I did this time.
If I redid my entry, I would still include the protest line that Nicole’s not supposed to cross. I think I’d have her mention it less, though, and just have her slowly move closer and closer to the line, eventually stepping over it. Then she’d probably take off running without me saying specifically that she’s stepped over the line. Instead of having Eric cross the line with her, she’d do it on her own.
Instead of using “write” as my “rite” word, which looking back is an obvious choice, I’d probably use something like “favorite” or another word that’s less obvious. Most importantly (because my overuse of adverbs is annoying to even me), I would have used the same amount of adverbs as I usually use. I wouldn’t have simply shoved them in to make sure that I had enough.
Ultimately, this wasn’t my best writing. Next time, I’ll stick to what I feel is a good story rather than try to add in too much of something just to please the judges. This time, trying to do what I thought the judges wanted backfired anyway.
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