judging and entries

People who have entered:

1. AJ_Craziness
2. Emma5304
3. AYS_621
4. foreverwisegirl
5. Carolyn_Hill
6. StarryeyedStephy

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Entries:

1. AJ_Craziness  - poetry

2. Emma5304

3. AYS_621

4. foreverwisegirl

5. Carolyn_Hill

The Green Beacon of Hope

Jessica Smith flopped onto her bed and sank into the deep, dark pit that loomed before her. A gale whooshed through her study, and chills crawled down her spine.

Emptiness. Loneliness. Oblivion.

When Jessica gazed out of the window, she noticed the lush greenery had morphed into a dull brown. Crisp, dry leaves whipped through the air and rustled on the dying trees like maracas. The wind howled and whistled as it blustered through the crack in the door and into her heart.

For the past six months, she'd slaved away at her computer, working upwards of sixty hours a week to make sure she met all of her publishers' deadlines. With every success and word of praise, her heart sang.

Whenever Jessica read through the printed works, a surge of pride welled inside her. A month ago, she'd flipped through the page of the latest textbook, and a smile spread across her face.

I helped to make these books a reality.

But now that her busy season had ended, Jessica felt as dead inside as the autumn leaves clinging to the withering trees. Like the oaks and maples in her front yard, she would hibernate until the following spring.

Autumn had come along with the inexorable pull of ennui. The unending calm before the storm.

Everything fell quiet, and the darkness crept upon her like the early nights of fall. Jessica's mind coiled around itself like a boa constrictor squeezing out the life of its prey. Her mind had nothing to consume, so it ate at her heart, choking her very soul.

She'd tried everything to fix it. Studies. Projects. Crafts. Exercise. Nothing broke the cycle of dismal feelings that plagued her mind during the quiet season. Self-doubt and fear itched at her consciousness, and her chest constricted at the endless litany of thoughts.

They won't hire you again next year.
You should get a real job.
You wouldn't have these worries if you were employed.

Jessica plopped her face down on the pillow and covered her head with another one. I won't listen. I won't! Go to hell!

Mired in the depths of her own brooding, Jessica made a choice. She had to take control--Jessica refused to let herself spiral anymore.

She would find another way forward.

***

To liven her mood, Jessica walked into her study and ran her fingertips across the spines of her beloved friends.

Dozens of books lined the wooden shelves of Jessica's cramped study, and the smell of old, damp paper wafted towards her. Clouds of paper dust danced in the air, lit by the dull sunlight. Paperbacks were crammed sideways and crossways into any available space inside the overcrowded bookcase.

All of them held a special place in Jessica's heart--some books came from faraway places as mementos or souvenirs. Other publications had helped her to learn new skills or gain knowledge. Jessica loved ogling the folio editions of her favorite works of art.

When she saw her friends, she couldn't help but smile. She didn't enjoy the company of people--with a few exceptions--but she always welcomed the company of books.

Reading. I've always loved reading. If only I could write ...

Jessica almost jolted as a new series of thoughts crossed her mind.

Could I write?

The dark thoughts returned. No, you're too old to learn. Mid-thirties. That ship has sailed.

The litany began once again.

You don't know how.
It's too late.
You have no contacts.
What would be the point?
You're never going to publish.

Filled with frustration, Jessica imagined flinging a row of books at the wall at her own defeatism. To the outside world, she merely took a deep sigh and closed her eyes, ignoring the heaviness that grew inside her chest.

I'm going to prove to myself that it's not too late. It's never too late. Never.

I can use my mind in a whole new way.
I can create worlds using the power of words.
I can make friends and learn from others.

I can.
I can.
I can.

With that one idea, a billion tiny worker ants came out to play in the dead corners of her mind. They tilled away the stagnant undergrowth and created a patch of fresh soil, a place where new ideas could flourish and grow.

***

People online called it Wattpad--Jessica called it a chance.

As the possibilities swept across her mind like a powerful tidal wave, they cast aside her fear and doubt. For hours, Jessica searched for as many details as she could find. Even ignoring the random success stories of Wattpad authors who'd become famous, the platform held promise.

She could learn from those with experience.

Jessica read dozens of books on the platform. Some made her laugh; others made her cry. Still others made her want to toss her phone out the window.

If they can do it, so can I.

She decided to take a chance and started a Wattpad account.

At first, the newbie writer just read. Got the lay of the land. Tested the waters. As she became bolder, she commented on people's work and even began to promote some of her favorite writers. They became her inspiration, and the little seedling of hope developed into a young adult plant.

That was when Jessica discovered a new genre. Dark fantasy. Dark poetry. Dark, like the energy creeping inside her soul. Shadows of doubt mixed with shadows of hope.

I can do this.

For hours, Jessica spewed garbage on the blank screen, allowing her fantasy to crash upon the page. The next day, she trashed eighty percent of her words and started again.

Create. Trash. Repeat.

Read. Comment. Learn.

Research. Write. Think.

New cycles and coils began to form, and Jessica's mind digested the ideas instead of her soul. Lifting herself out of the morass of self-doubt, she typed at high speed, and idea after idea flooded the screen.

Create. Trash. Repeat.

Think. Write. Think.

Read. Think. Write.

Soon Jessica devised a whole new routine--she wrote like it was her autumn job.

At nine o'clock every morning, Jessica sat down at her desk, and the creative cycles would begin anew. Somehow, thirty minutes later, ten hours had passed.

Writing turned eternity into seconds.

***

A month later, Jessica gasped when she saw the date. November 17, 2016—only two weeks until the end of NaNoWriMo.

Damn. I gotta get a move on.

She took her ideas--all one hundred and thirty-five pages of them--and focused on devising a plot. It proved more difficult than she could possibly imagine.

Tropes. Themes. Story arcs.

Initiating action. Rising action. Climax. Denouement.

Dialogue tags.

Show vs. Tell. Description. Purple prose. White wall syndrome.

Strong characters. Round characters. Flat characters.

Jessica held her head in her hands and groaned as she tossed a creative writing book aside and listened to thirty videos back to back on how to improve your writing.

Good gods, how do I balance all this crap at once? And what the heck does 'show versus tell' even mean? Argh!

Jessica used Google to search for 'how to improve your writing'. She groaned in dismay at the utterly unhelpful answer she found again and again.

"Read and write," a website droned. "Keep on writing. And then write some more."

Well, thanks a freaking lot.

What's the point if you never get any feedback? You just keep producing the same old garbage until it's ingrained in your mind like a bad habit.

Jessica pursed her lips with determination.

I need feedback ... and balls. Because the only way I'm going to improve is to press the 'publish' button.

That idea made Jessica's insides turn into liquid smoke. The only thing that scared the young woman more than stagnation was rejection. But if no one rejected her, she would never grow.

***

Unlike many newbie writers, Jessica didn't have unrealistic expectations. She knew her first attempt at writing wouldn't draw the masses like magnets to metal. That much was clear.

Instead, Jessica jumped with joy when three people read several chapters and gave her comments and feedback. One person even read the entire book and liked it. Still, a growing sense of impatience gnawed at her.

How can I improve and get feedback if no one even knows I exist?

Research. Think. Mobilize.

Jessica threw her work in every possible direction, hoping that something would take root. Awards. Events. Reading clubs. Individuals willing to listen. Groups willing to critique.

Suddenly, a message popped up from an unknown group.

Project undiscovered.

"What's that?" Jessica muttered under her breath as she clicked the notification.

She browsed through the group's works on the profile page. A wave of green cascaded across her screen, serving as a beacon of hope to all those who dream of being noticed amid the millions of works on Wattpad.

Jessica admired the chances they gave newbie writers like her who wanted to grow, learn, and share their stories with the Wattpad community.

"This is perfect!" she exclaimed. "Look at all the amazing things they offer writers. Dang, even artists."

When the dark thoughts threatened to resurface, Jessica refused to listen.

"It doesn't even matter that no one knows me--they want undiscovered people like me to try!"

After sending the group a quick follow and an enthusiastic message, she signed up for everything they had to offer. The green opportunities overcame the decaying fields of the past and planted new options that would spring to life.

Jessica's once barren mind transformed into a burgeoning forest. She knew she'd never become famous, but that didn't matter because that was never her aim. Although she had to thank many individuals and groups for her modest success, she never forgot the project that started it all.

Project undiscovered.

Under her breath, she gave a pleasant smile and whispered, "Thank you."

The End.

6. StarryeyedStephy

I was deep in dreamland, dreaming of something exciting, when I was rudely interrupted by something nudging me on my face. I reluctantly opened my eyes but immediately shut them because they were blinded by the bright lights flashing at me.

"Are you the admin of project-undiscovered?" Said a cracked male voice.

"What?" I was still disoriented.

"Are you the admin of project-undiscovered" Another man barked at me.

"Who's asking" I answered with a condescending tone. These idiots woke me up in the middle of this night for this nonsense.

"We are." The one to my left deviated the light from my eyes to show me the others.

My eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the light, then I saw them. There were about four or five of them, dressed in all black, including the helmets equipped with what looked like night vision googles. Another thing I noticed was the big guns mounted with flash lights, which they all carried, two of which were pointed way too close at me.

"Now, allow me to ask again, are you the admin of project-undiscovered?" The man to my left reintroduced his gun to my face.

"Y-yes" I answered with obvious fear in my voice; I was afraid of what my answer entailed.

"We are going to need you to take down your account. Right now." I nodded.  I still couldn't believe that these armed men broke into my home in the middle of the night because of my wattpad account. I stood up from the bed and went to my table. I opened my laptop and went to the website so I could login. 

"After I do this, you'll let me go right?" I had to ask because they were going through a lot of trouble just to take down an account. The only reply I got was a nudge with the gun. However, before I could type in my password, someone burst into the room and attacked the guy standing closest to the door. The one beside me brought the gun to my head, but before he could do anything, a scissor came flying into his eye; which caused him to panic, and in the midst of it all I was knocked out cold.

The next morning, I woke up on my bed. It took a second, but the headache reminded me of what took place the previous night.  I frantically looked round the room, however, there was no evidence of what transpired the night before; even the scissors was laying neatly on my table. I decided it was just a weird dream, vivid, but a dream.

Later, I went to my laptop to login to my account, but a word document was opened; and there was a message: "Keep doing what you are doing, a lot of people are counting on you. And don't worry, I've got your back. -T" It was definitely not a dream.

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