Sunday, May 17, 2009

Week 1 of a Three Week Series on Genres - The Western

This is Week 1 of a three week series on Genres. Each week the subscribers are given the task of creating a story based off of the photo given (or they can use one of their choosing), however, it must be 110 words or less, it is due by 11am 2 weeks from the date given. In this series, 110words is trying to have writers focus more on the genre itself. Most of the writings we receive are typically not genre specific. We want to help push each writer creatively to help mold them into a better writer in general. We got some great stories back this week based off of our genre of Westerns. After reading the stories below, you'll see some excellent examples of transporting the reader into your story. It's not just about the saying "We are in a Western." How does it smell in the barn? What words/phrases do the characters use? Tell me about location. What is it made of? Does the wood creak at night?


By: Mark H.

Billy leaned against the weathered beams of the old barn and kept his eyes riveted on the horizon. “You gonna watch with me or yap at them mangy furballs all day, Thomas?”

“Only need one eye to see ‘em comin’, Billy, and looks like you got two good ones. ‘Sides, between us we got the two fastest guns in these parts. What’re you so worried about?”

“Ain’t worried, just ain’t taking any chances. You know Miss Ellie’s give us jobs for 10 years now. I ain’t lettin’ that stinkin’ band of outlaws do anything to hurt that good woman.

“Ok Billy – look ahead there – time to earn our pay.”

New Law
By: Linda Gail A.

“This sure do beat the cow tipping we did last week,” Leroy drawls. “Now we’re the law in this here town, and we can arrest anyone who acts up. Course, we might need to do like Sheriff Monroe did for us. We deputize the two biggest rascals and put them in charge.”

“I’m not sure who was more surprised; us or the town, when they realized we were now the law,” Stern offers.

“We’ll be fine as long as we leave Hank’s boys alone,” Leroy sagely advises.

“They run the largest still in the county,” Stern protests.

“Sounds like deputizing time.”

“Maybe so.”

Dusty on Tuesday
By: TresK3

It was Dusty on Tuesday. It was always Dusty on Tuesday. A guy works hard on the ranch all day, then he has to put up with this? Not for the first time, we offered to help. We could just shoot the calf and be done with it. But no, Dusty had to do it himself, like some actor cowboy from the moving-picture shows. Some people are just that way, no matter who suffers. Tomorrow would be Wednesday and Lefty would cook and we’d eat on time. We’d eat on time all week… until next Tuesday.

Watchful Silence
By: Deb Freitag

“Whaddya see Beelzbub?” said Brooks. He didn’t expect an answer. But he sure wished he knew. Animals sensed danger before humans. Even he knew that. Beelzbub was sniffing the air and staring up at the cliffs across the plain. Whoever stole the horses a fortnight ago was probably coming back for them. They were as ready as could be. No horses. No food. Bastards even filled in the well and killed the dogs. But why? Brooks broke the silence again and asked Simon, “Why did they…” But Simon hushed him saying urgently, “Shush ol’ fool. They’re scoutin’ us now. Watch the shadows on the ridge and get your rifle ready…”

By Government Regulation Every Western Must Have A Character Named Slim
By: Jerry H.

Monroe squinted and exclaimed “That’s them Cat rustlers Slim!”


“Member them Yankee cat rustlers back in 1863, da war for our independence.”


“Gave them loads of buckshot, we sure did.”


“Back East in Chicamungie I recall.”


Monroe looked down, “Fluffy, Ya ready?”


“Penelope Ya ready girl?”


Monroe and Slim vigilantly and skillfully checked their weapons. Monroe spit a wad of chew on the ground. It oozed it’s substance like an ice cube melts in the sun.


“Sorry Penelope. I’m always nervous when cat rustlers are coming.”

Fluffy observed, “Meow, meow, meow memeow,”


The Strike
By: Josh S.

“Is that all they do all day Carl?”

“What are you talking about Willie?”

“They just walk around, sit down, and look around at everything all day long.”

“What is wrong with that?”

“I don’t know, it just seems kind of pointless”

“How else are they supposed to keep the mice out of the barn?”

“Well they could give us our pension benefits and the health care options we asked for then we could come off of our strike and lend a hand.”

“I don’t think they will budge Willie, I think they actually enjoy being lazy.”

“Well, at least we don’t need guns to kill mice like halfwitted humans”

Moonshine Whiskey
By: Randy H.

“Jeb, would you stop messin’ with that damn cat? You’re makin’ me nervous,” shouted DeWitt.

“I’m just tryin’ to make a friend, maybe somethin’ you should be doin’,” Jeb replied.

“You told me you would help me stand guard against those county bastards that want to shut down grandpa’s still. This still has been producin’ for ages and I ain’t about to back down. You with me or not?,” asked DeWitt.

“I’m here ain’t I?,” responded Jeb. “You didn’t tell me I’d have to stand guard with my rifle. Besides, I’m supposed to be hayridin’ with Miss Annie.”

“Chasin’ felines is about all your good for anyway,” bemoaned DeWitt.

Longing For Her Return (A Western)
By: Lindsey D.

Stringbean stared off into the distance, the barrel of his gun set snug into is thigh, longing for her return. He felt the pulsating stress of the early morning ride on his inner thighs and hoped to have another. It was she who had finally made this gangly, awkward cowboy feel like a real man; in control of each and every move.
The bright sun reflected off of the bare field exhibiting the remnants of the season’s harvest. He squinted, strained, searched. He spotted her strutting toward him, her long legs stretching elegantly with each step. A smile crept across his face.
“That goddamn horse is back,” Old Jim grunted.


bshawise said...

very clever, josh. nice work.

random blogger said...

i think it's interesting to see a couple of common themes repeated: cowboys defending and booze still. is this the result of our stereotype of the old west or is this a sign of great creative minds thinking alike?