Sample Entry
Hey there everyone! latemarch here! I asked you all if you wanted me to post a sample entry for you to look at, and here it is!
The only things we’d really like you to include in your entries are: title, entry number, author, fandom (if applicable), and genre, ratings/warnings, spoilers (if applicable), and word count. Feel free to add author notes (I will!) and historical/cultural notes as wanted/needed. Also - we’d love to see any pictures or hear any music that goes along with your writing!
I did a similar challenge for myself in August (which is where the idea for this community came from), and this is one of the entries that I posted on my livejournal.
SAMPLE ENTRY
*When titling your entries, please be sure to title them in this way: "Entry 01, Example Title."
Title: Currently Untitled Sir Gawain Story
Entry Number: 00
Author: Chelsea (latemarch)
Fandom: (You don't need to include this if your entry is original fiction.)
Rating: PG
Genre: romance, fantasy, arthurian
Spoiler Warnings: None
Word Count: 1019
"CURRENTLY UNTITLED SIR GAWAIN STORY"
Slowly, Penny opened the door of her bathroom, her towel clutched about her with one hand, a can of hairspray in the other. She’d been taking a shower when she heard a smashing noise in the rest of her apartment. Her television was blaring a live concert for Lady Gaga, and the sounds of screaming fans were blocking out any hope she had of hearing her intruder’s footsteps.
The door creaked when she opened if further, and she winced, freezing for a moment before continuing on her way. Her hair was dripping water on the floor, and she prayed that the criminal wouldn’t use it as a marked trail to find her.
She heard an odd clanking sound coming from her kitchen and lurked through the hallway and the living room, pressing her back against wall. Penny stopped before the entryway to the kitchen, taking a deep breath and waiting for a few long seconds, stiffly holding the can of hair spray in front of her face. ‘God, please let it be my mother breaking in to leave me some casseroles. Again. Please let it be my mother.’ Even her thoughts had a desperate ring to them.
It sounded like they were looking through her pots and pans, taking them out, matching the lids up with their mates. That definitely sounded like her mother.
Relief made Penny’s limbs limp, and she dropped the hand with the hairspray down to her thigh. The clinking sound started up again, and was coming closer, making her think that her mother had chosen a crock pot instead of a casserole. She sighed and stepped into the doorway.
“Mom, I’ve told you a thousand times…” Her worlds trailed off, surprised. Instead of facing her mother, she was facing a man. A tall man, with dark blonde hair and dark brown eyes.
A man with a very large sword.
They stared at each other wordlessly for a few seconds, both of them stunned and confused and the clock on her wall ticked heedlessly. Then, her mind returning to sanity, Penny screamed.
She screamed like she never had before, throwing her hand up and bombarding the strange man with clouds of hairspray. He coughed and waved his hands, trying to ward off the chemicals. As he gestured wildly, Penny backpedaled frantically, still screaming. The heel of her foot landed in the cold water that had dripped from her hair, and the frenzied flailing of her arms overbalanced her immediately. The hairspray flew from her hand and consequentially landed under his feet.
With both of them on the floor, Penny and the strange man experienced yet another quite moment, filled with staring and a incomprehensible connection through their eyes. She took a moment to look the man over thoroughly, taking in his appearance and attitude.
As she’d noted before, he was a tall man, with dirty blonde hair the color of ripe grain and dark brown eyes the color of cinnamon. He rough leggings that were streaked with mud and a tunic that suffered the same indignities. Underneath the tunic was a stuff shirt of what looked to be chainmail, and he had an impressively large sword strapped to his waist that was digging a wince-inducing divot in her floor.
He looked so confused and unsure, wary of everything in her apartment, and Penny felt her fear start to soften and melt. She was wondering if perhaps he had a mental disease and had somehow found his way into her home, when she realized that he was studying her with the same thoroughness that she was him. Studying her naked body.
Penny shrieked again, and scrambled to pull her fallen towel around herself and jump to her feet in simultaneous movements.
At the jumble of limbs she’d become, the man slid to his feet in a movement so fluid and beautiful it stirred the jealousy in the back of Penny’s mind, despite her current preoccupation. He bent down and picked up the heavily dented can of hairspray as Penny ducked cautiously behind her couch.
Just her forehead and eyes peeked over the edge of the sofa as she watched him, noticing that he kept one eye on her at all times as he tested the spray can, pressing the nozzle periodically in the air and examining it.
“Who are you?” Penny asked him, successfully quelling the stuttering that would otherwise sprinkled her question. “Are you…lost? Are you crazy?” ‘Or a rapist?’ She added silently.
The man looked up then, and focused all his attention on her - which was a startling and strangely stimulating sensation. “I am Gwalchmal, me lady.” He shook his head almost ruefully, as if remembering some fond memory. “And verily, me lady, I am not insane, though there are some who insist that I am.”
Penny wrinkled her nose at him, and like a woman used to modern names, only responded to one part of his reply. “Gwalchmal? What kind of name is that?”
He frowned at her, clearly insulted, and propped one hand on the hilt of his sword, a gesture that Penny could see was a habit, not a threat. “Tis a fine and proud name that I have borne for many years. And for ye to impugn-“
“Yes, yes, yes.” Penny interrupted him, standing up with the towel clutched around her breasts tightly and ignoring his look of consternation. “I understand that you like your name, I do. But why does it sound so familiar?”
“Familiar?” He inquired as he followed her through the strange dwelling, his sword bouncing against the pouch he carried at his waist. “I have made the name Gwalchmal famous throughout the lands for me deeds of chivalry. Surely even ye must have heard of me, in this land of sorcery.”
Penny ignored him, instead opening the door to her bedroom closet and digging through the boxes that were stacked in the back. It was slow going with only one hand, but eventually she backed out of the small dark space triumphantly, a book held in one hand. “A ha!”
AUTHOR NOTES
Ha ha - don't worry, the title will definitely change for this story!
Now, I'm almost positive that I'll probably write some sort of scene that will go before this one, maybe a prologue, that will outline how Gawain (Gwalchmal = Gawain) got to 2010. But I couldn't bring myself to write that just now, and this came out of me instead!
I'm not an expert on Arthurian legends or on Middle English, two subjects that this story will deal with extensively (obviously). No one get mad at me if I make mistakes! I'm doing my best!
---end sample---
I hope that you find this sample entry helpful, and if you have any other questions, please make sure to ask! We’re happy to help!
Of course, this would be one of the my 1000 word entries, and the Halloween-themed story would be much longer, but the general idea will be the same. Sometimes, if I have a plan for all the stories that I’m going to write for in the challenge, I make out and post a list for them, but in no way is that mandatory. I didn’t include it here, but feel free to do it yourself if you know what story(ies) you’re going to work on.
Also, PLEASE REMEMBER TO tag your entries with the year, the entry number, and the fandom. Thank you!
Can’t wait for October! Who’s with me?
The only things we’d really like you to include in your entries are: title, entry number, author, fandom (if applicable), and genre, ratings/warnings, spoilers (if applicable), and word count. Feel free to add author notes (I will!) and historical/cultural notes as wanted/needed. Also - we’d love to see any pictures or hear any music that goes along with your writing!
I did a similar challenge for myself in August (which is where the idea for this community came from), and this is one of the entries that I posted on my livejournal.
SAMPLE ENTRY
*When titling your entries, please be sure to title them in this way: "Entry 01, Example Title."
Title: Currently Untitled Sir Gawain Story
Entry Number: 00
Author: Chelsea (latemarch)
Fandom: (You don't need to include this if your entry is original fiction.)
Rating: PG
Genre: romance, fantasy, arthurian
Spoiler Warnings: None
Word Count: 1019
"CURRENTLY UNTITLED SIR GAWAIN STORY"
Slowly, Penny opened the door of her bathroom, her towel clutched about her with one hand, a can of hairspray in the other. She’d been taking a shower when she heard a smashing noise in the rest of her apartment. Her television was blaring a live concert for Lady Gaga, and the sounds of screaming fans were blocking out any hope she had of hearing her intruder’s footsteps.
The door creaked when she opened if further, and she winced, freezing for a moment before continuing on her way. Her hair was dripping water on the floor, and she prayed that the criminal wouldn’t use it as a marked trail to find her.
She heard an odd clanking sound coming from her kitchen and lurked through the hallway and the living room, pressing her back against wall. Penny stopped before the entryway to the kitchen, taking a deep breath and waiting for a few long seconds, stiffly holding the can of hair spray in front of her face. ‘God, please let it be my mother breaking in to leave me some casseroles. Again. Please let it be my mother.’ Even her thoughts had a desperate ring to them.
It sounded like they were looking through her pots and pans, taking them out, matching the lids up with their mates. That definitely sounded like her mother.
Relief made Penny’s limbs limp, and she dropped the hand with the hairspray down to her thigh. The clinking sound started up again, and was coming closer, making her think that her mother had chosen a crock pot instead of a casserole. She sighed and stepped into the doorway.
“Mom, I’ve told you a thousand times…” Her worlds trailed off, surprised. Instead of facing her mother, she was facing a man. A tall man, with dark blonde hair and dark brown eyes.
A man with a very large sword.
They stared at each other wordlessly for a few seconds, both of them stunned and confused and the clock on her wall ticked heedlessly. Then, her mind returning to sanity, Penny screamed.
She screamed like she never had before, throwing her hand up and bombarding the strange man with clouds of hairspray. He coughed and waved his hands, trying to ward off the chemicals. As he gestured wildly, Penny backpedaled frantically, still screaming. The heel of her foot landed in the cold water that had dripped from her hair, and the frenzied flailing of her arms overbalanced her immediately. The hairspray flew from her hand and consequentially landed under his feet.
With both of them on the floor, Penny and the strange man experienced yet another quite moment, filled with staring and a incomprehensible connection through their eyes. She took a moment to look the man over thoroughly, taking in his appearance and attitude.
As she’d noted before, he was a tall man, with dirty blonde hair the color of ripe grain and dark brown eyes the color of cinnamon. He rough leggings that were streaked with mud and a tunic that suffered the same indignities. Underneath the tunic was a stuff shirt of what looked to be chainmail, and he had an impressively large sword strapped to his waist that was digging a wince-inducing divot in her floor.
He looked so confused and unsure, wary of everything in her apartment, and Penny felt her fear start to soften and melt. She was wondering if perhaps he had a mental disease and had somehow found his way into her home, when she realized that he was studying her with the same thoroughness that she was him. Studying her naked body.
Penny shrieked again, and scrambled to pull her fallen towel around herself and jump to her feet in simultaneous movements.
At the jumble of limbs she’d become, the man slid to his feet in a movement so fluid and beautiful it stirred the jealousy in the back of Penny’s mind, despite her current preoccupation. He bent down and picked up the heavily dented can of hairspray as Penny ducked cautiously behind her couch.
Just her forehead and eyes peeked over the edge of the sofa as she watched him, noticing that he kept one eye on her at all times as he tested the spray can, pressing the nozzle periodically in the air and examining it.
“Who are you?” Penny asked him, successfully quelling the stuttering that would otherwise sprinkled her question. “Are you…lost? Are you crazy?” ‘Or a rapist?’ She added silently.
The man looked up then, and focused all his attention on her - which was a startling and strangely stimulating sensation. “I am Gwalchmal, me lady.” He shook his head almost ruefully, as if remembering some fond memory. “And verily, me lady, I am not insane, though there are some who insist that I am.”
Penny wrinkled her nose at him, and like a woman used to modern names, only responded to one part of his reply. “Gwalchmal? What kind of name is that?”
He frowned at her, clearly insulted, and propped one hand on the hilt of his sword, a gesture that Penny could see was a habit, not a threat. “Tis a fine and proud name that I have borne for many years. And for ye to impugn-“
“Yes, yes, yes.” Penny interrupted him, standing up with the towel clutched around her breasts tightly and ignoring his look of consternation. “I understand that you like your name, I do. But why does it sound so familiar?”
“Familiar?” He inquired as he followed her through the strange dwelling, his sword bouncing against the pouch he carried at his waist. “I have made the name Gwalchmal famous throughout the lands for me deeds of chivalry. Surely even ye must have heard of me, in this land of sorcery.”
Penny ignored him, instead opening the door to her bedroom closet and digging through the boxes that were stacked in the back. It was slow going with only one hand, but eventually she backed out of the small dark space triumphantly, a book held in one hand. “A ha!”
AUTHOR NOTES
Ha ha - don't worry, the title will definitely change for this story!
Now, I'm almost positive that I'll probably write some sort of scene that will go before this one, maybe a prologue, that will outline how Gawain (Gwalchmal = Gawain) got to 2010. But I couldn't bring myself to write that just now, and this came out of me instead!
I'm not an expert on Arthurian legends or on Middle English, two subjects that this story will deal with extensively (obviously). No one get mad at me if I make mistakes! I'm doing my best!
---end sample---
I hope that you find this sample entry helpful, and if you have any other questions, please make sure to ask! We’re happy to help!
Of course, this would be one of the my 1000 word entries, and the Halloween-themed story would be much longer, but the general idea will be the same. Sometimes, if I have a plan for all the stories that I’m going to write for in the challenge, I make out and post a list for them, but in no way is that mandatory. I didn’t include it here, but feel free to do it yourself if you know what story(ies) you’re going to work on.
Also, PLEASE REMEMBER TO tag your entries with the year, the entry number, and the fandom. Thank you!
Can’t wait for October! Who’s with me?