After yesterday’s post on creativity and writing connectiveness, what’s better as a touch of reality than a post about bad writing? The annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest wrapped up recently, and the winners continue to be exhibit truly awful writing. Personally, I thought the runner-up was a bit worse than the winner, but each to his own. To read all the category winners and runners-up, go here.
Detective Bart Lasiter was in his office studying the light from his one small window falling on his super burrito when the door swung open to reveal a woman whose body said you’ve had your last burrito for a while, whose face said angels did exist, and whose eyes said she could make you dig your own grave and lick the shovel clean.
…and the almost as bad:
I know what you’re thinking, punk,” hissed Wordy Harry to his new editor, “you’re thinking, ‘Did he use six superfluous adjectives or only five?’ – and to tell the truth, I forgot myself in all this excitement; but being as this is English, the most powerful language in the world, whose subtle nuances will blow your head clean off, you’ve got to ask yourself one question: ‘Do I feel loquacious?’ – well do you, punk?