LJ Idol Week 43 FINAL: Why I Should Win/Why My Opponents Should Win
A trek through the Wordsmith Hollow is an endeavor not for the small of heart or will. This is largely due to the fact that most of the tools needed to get through are located deeply inside of the body, and digging in and rooting around inside oneself can be a very painful task, not to mention it's generally rather messy business. Many enter, but only a handful make it to the end. Once there, only one can emerge. Some leave of their own accords as life gets in the way and demands immediate emergency exit from the Writing Woods; others stick it out with admirable tenacity until they find a place to sit in peace, absorbed by the forest in warmth and beauty. All who embark on the journey have one thing in common: each is a wordsmith in his own right, welding weapons of language and metaphor.
Different paths present themselves; it's a choose-your-own-adventure journey through the mind and heart. Some traverse hills of heartbreak; others cross brooks of prose and poem. Some dance through vines of anecdotal humor while some swing through trees of dialogue. All channel their souls to pour through the tips of their fingers leaving behind inky manifestations true to their very own forms left at the mercy of readers who hold the keys to fate. Please your readers, pass deeper into the wood.
At twilight, three figures found themselves rejoined on the main path, facing the final step. One was small and brightly colored; her hair was disheveled and she trailed moonshine with each step. Another was ethereal, cloaked in blue, stars dancing around her as she moved. The third moved like breeze and looked wore a sunset, beauty abounding at the end of the day. All three had been blessed with the right place and time, the right words and right rhyme. The three moved together toward a tall figure cloaked in black blocking the path: The Keeper.
The Keeper bowed his head in greeting and gestured for the three to come closer. When he spoke, his voice was kind, outplaying the intimidating nature of his role. "Please accept my warm welcome to the end of the path. One final step and one of you will emerge from the other side: a question."
The three waited, heads cocked, anticipation flavoring the air like vanilla and ice.
The Keeper continued. "I want you all to explain why you are here--why you have made it so far. And I want you to tell me why you should be the one to make it through. But there is a catch. You must speak not only on your own behalf, but also for each of your fellow aspirants. Take your time to think, but don't be long."
Each of the three gave pause for careful considered thought, minds swirling with nearly a year's worth of work, biting fingers callused by tools for writing. Finally, they were ready.
When it was time for the small and brightly colored one to speak, she was still unsure of what to say that would rightfully honor her sisters in craft as deserved. She closed her eyes and trusted her words to do the work.
"This final step is quite a riddle," she began, "for I can speak only for my own journey and not the merit of my words. At the same time, I can speak only of the merit of my fellow writers' words, while speculating at best the natures of their journeys."
"Go on," said the Keeper.
She took a deep breath. "My journey was rocky in the beginning. I was facing a gigantic wall of my own and was desperate for a way to write without having to scale it. This provided such an opportunity, but I was gravely intimidated from the start and had little faith in myself. I figured if I could maybe make it just a few weeks, I would discover the key to moving through my wall. But time wore on, and I was still here. I watched others build bonds and move together through the forest, but for some reason I remained largely alone. I don't really know why; I just kept finding these stones to jump across, each bringing me closer to my key. I would just close my eyes, jump, and let the honest words do the talking. Most times I had no idea what I was writing until it was done. And each week, it worked. At some point--I'm not even sure if I can tell you when--I looked down and realized I had the key in my hands. I had unlocked my voice. I hadn't even known it was trapped. Everything became so clear, so bright--I rejoined the others and ran as fast as I could until I made it here. I bring with me confidence in knowing I can touch others through my words--I can take one small breath in a moment and stretch it across centuries; I can reflect light from a tear to project my interpretation of humanity onto the moon. I take the surreal and breathe it into life. I came, I worked, I'm here, and I am heard. "
She gestured to her counterparts. "Each of these women--and I speak entire truth here--has stood out to me through this entire process. I have kept a quiet but close eye on my fellow writers, and the strength and consistency they have shown has left me awestruck and inspired. I am floored to be standing here with them, probably more than they will ever know. It is an honor that I will keep close to my heart always."
She turned to the one cloaked in blue. "Bleodswean, I am humbled to stand with you. You craft scenery as though it's your own two hands building an entire set. This is a terrible weakness of mine, so I eat up every bit you give us. You are able to pull me entirely into the stories you tell. Each detail is as important as a heartbeat and drives your words with delicious fervor. Your piece during the thirty-seventh week stood out to me beyond the rest. It moved me in a way that changed my soul around a bit, and I thank you for that. You have this ability to bring enchantment and fantasy to a real and tangible level. It is accessible and sophisticated at the same time; you write so that your audience can read with ease, perhaps without even noticing how much work is behind it. And this is a powerful gift--to make something so difficult seem so easy; it flows from you like a breeze. I don't know what your journey has looked like, but from my side, it has looked like stars in the sky--the glitter day and night, gently nudging us in the direction they wish to show and we follow with wonder in our eyes."
She turned to the one who wore a sunset on her sleeves. "Gratefuladdict, I am humbled to stand with you. Reading your work is a true treasure; it is bare-boned and bold week after week and I so deeply admire your introspection and honesty. You have such a gift for inhabiting the bodies of your characters and bringing them to flesh before my very eyes with such few words; each time I am gifted with one of your works, I find a new aspect of human nature staring back into my eyes, daring me to read closer. To me you seem timeless, and to create such beautiful portrayals of people in raw form speaks to the wisdom one might find in the setting sun, bold and brilliant colors honed from an entire day's worth of observing. It's like I learn from you each time. Your words are woven with the skill of a true master, but it's the streaks of your soul that shine through each one that set your tapestries above and beyond. It is both fitting and amazing that in your journey you created a life, because you've created lives all along your path through your words. Your work is extraordinary and I treasure it wholly."
She turned back to the Keeper. "Whatever the outcome, the prize has already been won by each of us. The opportunity to dive into our passion for all this time, the privilege of an audience with eager eyes and bellies ready to devour, the reasons to push ourselves to space and beyond--these have been worth the ride. I am so thankful for my time here."
Different paths present themselves; it's a choose-your-own-adventure journey through the mind and heart. Some traverse hills of heartbreak; others cross brooks of prose and poem. Some dance through vines of anecdotal humor while some swing through trees of dialogue. All channel their souls to pour through the tips of their fingers leaving behind inky manifestations true to their very own forms left at the mercy of readers who hold the keys to fate. Please your readers, pass deeper into the wood.
At twilight, three figures found themselves rejoined on the main path, facing the final step. One was small and brightly colored; her hair was disheveled and she trailed moonshine with each step. Another was ethereal, cloaked in blue, stars dancing around her as she moved. The third moved like breeze and looked wore a sunset, beauty abounding at the end of the day. All three had been blessed with the right place and time, the right words and right rhyme. The three moved together toward a tall figure cloaked in black blocking the path: The Keeper.
The Keeper bowed his head in greeting and gestured for the three to come closer. When he spoke, his voice was kind, outplaying the intimidating nature of his role. "Please accept my warm welcome to the end of the path. One final step and one of you will emerge from the other side: a question."
The three waited, heads cocked, anticipation flavoring the air like vanilla and ice.
The Keeper continued. "I want you all to explain why you are here--why you have made it so far. And I want you to tell me why you should be the one to make it through. But there is a catch. You must speak not only on your own behalf, but also for each of your fellow aspirants. Take your time to think, but don't be long."
Each of the three gave pause for careful considered thought, minds swirling with nearly a year's worth of work, biting fingers callused by tools for writing. Finally, they were ready.
When it was time for the small and brightly colored one to speak, she was still unsure of what to say that would rightfully honor her sisters in craft as deserved. She closed her eyes and trusted her words to do the work.
"This final step is quite a riddle," she began, "for I can speak only for my own journey and not the merit of my words. At the same time, I can speak only of the merit of my fellow writers' words, while speculating at best the natures of their journeys."
"Go on," said the Keeper.
She took a deep breath. "My journey was rocky in the beginning. I was facing a gigantic wall of my own and was desperate for a way to write without having to scale it. This provided such an opportunity, but I was gravely intimidated from the start and had little faith in myself. I figured if I could maybe make it just a few weeks, I would discover the key to moving through my wall. But time wore on, and I was still here. I watched others build bonds and move together through the forest, but for some reason I remained largely alone. I don't really know why; I just kept finding these stones to jump across, each bringing me closer to my key. I would just close my eyes, jump, and let the honest words do the talking. Most times I had no idea what I was writing until it was done. And each week, it worked. At some point--I'm not even sure if I can tell you when--I looked down and realized I had the key in my hands. I had unlocked my voice. I hadn't even known it was trapped. Everything became so clear, so bright--I rejoined the others and ran as fast as I could until I made it here. I bring with me confidence in knowing I can touch others through my words--I can take one small breath in a moment and stretch it across centuries; I can reflect light from a tear to project my interpretation of humanity onto the moon. I take the surreal and breathe it into life. I came, I worked, I'm here, and I am heard. "
She gestured to her counterparts. "Each of these women--and I speak entire truth here--has stood out to me through this entire process. I have kept a quiet but close eye on my fellow writers, and the strength and consistency they have shown has left me awestruck and inspired. I am floored to be standing here with them, probably more than they will ever know. It is an honor that I will keep close to my heart always."
She turned to the one cloaked in blue. "Bleodswean, I am humbled to stand with you. You craft scenery as though it's your own two hands building an entire set. This is a terrible weakness of mine, so I eat up every bit you give us. You are able to pull me entirely into the stories you tell. Each detail is as important as a heartbeat and drives your words with delicious fervor. Your piece during the thirty-seventh week stood out to me beyond the rest. It moved me in a way that changed my soul around a bit, and I thank you for that. You have this ability to bring enchantment and fantasy to a real and tangible level. It is accessible and sophisticated at the same time; you write so that your audience can read with ease, perhaps without even noticing how much work is behind it. And this is a powerful gift--to make something so difficult seem so easy; it flows from you like a breeze. I don't know what your journey has looked like, but from my side, it has looked like stars in the sky--the glitter day and night, gently nudging us in the direction they wish to show and we follow with wonder in our eyes."
She turned to the one who wore a sunset on her sleeves. "Gratefuladdict, I am humbled to stand with you. Reading your work is a true treasure; it is bare-boned and bold week after week and I so deeply admire your introspection and honesty. You have such a gift for inhabiting the bodies of your characters and bringing them to flesh before my very eyes with such few words; each time I am gifted with one of your works, I find a new aspect of human nature staring back into my eyes, daring me to read closer. To me you seem timeless, and to create such beautiful portrayals of people in raw form speaks to the wisdom one might find in the setting sun, bold and brilliant colors honed from an entire day's worth of observing. It's like I learn from you each time. Your words are woven with the skill of a true master, but it's the streaks of your soul that shine through each one that set your tapestries above and beyond. It is both fitting and amazing that in your journey you created a life, because you've created lives all along your path through your words. Your work is extraordinary and I treasure it wholly."
She turned back to the Keeper. "Whatever the outcome, the prize has already been won by each of us. The opportunity to dive into our passion for all this time, the privilege of an audience with eager eyes and bellies ready to devour, the reasons to push ourselves to space and beyond--these have been worth the ride. I am so thankful for my time here."