and once again, I am a bit late in submitting my entry to the Bulwar-Lytton Writing Contest. But since the deadline appears to be a floating one, I have nonetheless sent in this tasty little nugget for consideration as the worst opening sentence to a badly written novel –
The last person to see Eveline Massuer alive was her gynecologist, who, coincidentally was also the first person to see her alive, since he also happened to have been her mother’s obstetrician.
I think I may stand a chance at winning with this one…
That reads like a winner to me!
Alas, not nearly bad enough!
But if you could get wrapped up in some detail of the cervix and such, maybe you could make it worse?
yes, i think bardiac’s right. and add an earthquake or some other natural disaster, preferably all in the same convoluted sentence.
i keep thinking it would be fun to enter, but never seem to remember when the contest is.
Kind of pointless to share since you are clearly going to win but…here goes my lame attempt…
I was experiencing what was turning out to be an otherwise stress-free day due to the fact that the house was clean, my IRS tax refund had arrived and my favorite contestant was winning on American Idol, when it dawned on me that I had missed the deadline to submit my entry for the ever-whimsical Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest and promptly fell into a deep depression which could have otherwise been avoided had I not spilled coffee on my calendar the previous week.
OK, I took a shot at it. I have three to choose from. They are all horrific. It was a great diversion and much fun!
As Dick Dastardly donned his donated demonic duds, he deemed himself demolished by design, and decided to instead detox himself of Darvon.
OR
She alwas did spend her days thinking of underhanded ways to infiltrate the pharmaceutical marketplace regardless of ethical balance with fearful and unsubstantiated claims, and today it paid off when she received the marketing reports.
OR
As she blogged, she began to ponder what her life meant, what the blog meant to her life, and whether or not it is worth while to Twitter about today’s lunch delivery.
Schrugglin –
Love #1 – send it in!
(Think I will twitter today’s lunch – it’s delish!)
XXOO
P.
My name is Brenda, baby”, she types into her laptop computer to answer a question from a stranger on her favorite social website, and as she performs this convenient form of annotation, Brenda has just realized that she has not seen, spoken with, or has in fact avoided her friendly neighbor across the street from her house for at least a year for no known reason to her.
Dan Abshear