(Before we begin this armchair discussion, gaze upon this link. It will come in handy as we go http://prize.etisalat.com.ng/these-words-i-do-not-speak/)
Yesterday, I drank Orijin and passed out. I had a very weird dream where I traveled into an alternate plane of reality and my mission was to save Ned Stark’s life. The man was as annoyingly oblivious as ever, and it got even worse when he became Goodluck Jonathan. I think I took over the management of his Twitter account, only I was using it to cop a few chicks.
Long story short, Ned Stark/Goodluck Jonathan died, and it’s all because of Orijin.
You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you about my dream. The thing is, I needed an icebreaker. It’s been a while since I’ve been here, eh? I’ve had some remarkable writers over here during the time (keeping you entertained is what I try to do) but I’ve been depriving you of the delicately suntanned body of He Who is Vundie. And that, my friend, is unpardonable.
But – wait – before you yell “OFF WITH HIS HEAD!”
I’ve not been entirely the lazy-ass you know me to be. Contrary to popular expectation, I’ve been doing a bit of writing, just not on my blog. I am writing a scifi book, a fantasy book and another…uhm, thriller concurrently and I’ve been making guest appearances on blogs! Neat, huh? I think it’s neat. Pretty tidy.
I wrote a story on Boko Haram (and I was all serious and no-jokes. Wow. Believe that!) on Comrade Zzyzx’s blog. I titled it “The String that Binds” (in my defense, I was lined up with a series of really uber-serious writers and I couldn’t get away with naming it “Pseudo-Morose Tales from the Land of Indeterminate Longevity.”)
I also have a sci-fi short coming up on Jeremy Targert’s blog. I can give a little spoiler. The title is: “Hey, OmniTerrans, That’s MY Parking Space!”
Now, that’s a title after my heart.
Okay. Update done. Now, to cut to the chase.
I finally entered for a writing competition. This is officially my first writing competition ever, and I feel really way out of my depth. I’ll tell you why.
1. I used to be a pretty good flash fiction writer. 300 words? Hah. I could spin yarns, nugget-sized and ready to serve for the jittery commuter. However, since I began extending my words and adding more descriptives and imagery, even as I began writing short books and all, Short Story Justin went on an indefinite holiday.
One day, someone on Twitter sends me a DM asking me to enter the Etisalat Competition for Flash Fiction and I suddenly try to get Short Story Justin on the line and I discover he’s moved to Maui.
2. It’s voting-based. I mean, it means that even if my story is the best thing ever written on earth, I don’t get to make momma (and you fellas) proud if it doesn’t get voted above the competition.
And that’s why I’m here, cap in hand ___O_
Please. VOTE FOR MEEEEEEE.
I promise to update this blog on schedule for the rest of my life if I win.
Okay, maybe not the rest of my life. How about half of the rest of it? Or one quarter of twenty percent of two-thirds the square root of it? Thanks. I knew we had a deal.
So, here’s the link: Click here to vote TheVunderkind
Please, read the story (I’m currently, and quite surprisingly, anticipating constructive critiques and reviews of the piece) and vote for the story. Share with your friends too, please. Let mommy and daddy read it too.
If I win, I’d be able to update my bio. Imagine that? “Vunderkind. Maestro. Entrepreneur. Winner, Etisalat Flash Fiction Prize, 2014. A world without a sense of humor is the zombie apocalypse.”
Are you giddy with me already?
Thanks guys. I knew I could count on you.
You’re just the best.