- The entry must be between 150 - 300 words. (In order to see how many words your entry is, write it in Microsoft Word, or you can copy and paste it here.)
- The deadline for the contest will be the Thursday after next.
- The winners will receive a badge for their blog, as well as extra points (see the point system below).
- The winner will be chosen based on the judges's preferences, as well as the following questions: Does this entry capture my attention immediately? Does it make me want to continue reading? Is the writing clear? They will also take into consideration the writer's voice and style--not necessarily technical issues, such as grammar, punctuation, etc.
- This is only for fun and to stretch your writing muscles--not necessarily to be taken too seriously. =)
- A critique on of one of their MMC entries
- A blog critique
- A 300 - 600 word critique on your novel, short story, blog post, etc
- The opportunity to judge one of the contests
- A free ebook of PURPLE MOON
- A special surprise sent to your mailbox (snail mail, not email)
The judge panel chooses these winners based on a point system (not to be confused with the point system mentioned above!).
Important Update:
What I love most about this contest is the sense of community that has resulted from it. MMC was initially started a year ago as a way to help get your creative juices flowing for the week--however, you have made it much more than that.
I love the way you all encourage and support one another; it's obvious that you don't enter the contest to win. Rather you enter it because you love the challenge, and you love receive the feedback.
So thank you to every MMC participant: to those who have stuck around for months, and to those who are just beginning the challenge. I'm excited to see how you will continue to grow in your writing!
From now on, every 8 weeks I will choose 5 participants to be part of the MMC Teen Writing Board.
When a new MMC is posted, these members will send me their top 3 favorite entries for that week. After I tally the votes, I will then send the top 10 most-voted entries to the judges.
The Teen Writing Board members will be responsible for:
- Sending me their top 3 favorite entries by the following Monday after a new MMC is posted. They should also explain what they liked about the entries that they chose.
- Announcing when a new MMC is up by posting on their blog and/or social media outlet
- Sending me any ideas that they may have for MMC (or letting me know what they think about a new idea that I may have)
What will these members receive?:
- 5 extra entries into the drawing (for both of the months that they are on the board)
- A badge to place on their blog
- A feature on every MMC post (for the 2 month duration that they are on the board)
And yes, the members will still be able to participate in the contest. (However, they will not be able to vote on their own entries.)
Want to apply? Click here!
--
Keep in mind that the judges are not aware of which entry belongs to which participant until after the judging is complete.
The entries that the judges thought was the most intriguing (based on rule #4) is ...
Third place winner:
Train tracks. Ever on, into the sky on either side. Like my life. My life seemed to last forever. Hers lasted for only a moment. I shook away memories. No need to delve any deeper into useless facts. They were gone. Nowhere to be found on this earth again. Yes, it’s difficult to move on; but you have to. It never happens like in stories, how the girl always dies of heartbreak or the lack of will to live. Complete nonsense. We move on because we have to. There’s no way to escape the monotony of our lives. Scars only give us more of a reason to regret our lot.Cobblestone streets. Always there, just another piece of this world. Sure, there were helpful things here… if you were trying to keep living. We weren’t. We were forced to. Lives extended past the expiration date. Surviving on unwanted borrowed time.The train was taking longer than I should have thought possible. I’d been sitting here for at least five days. Stilskin was normally closer to punctual, especially with magic business; he didn’t like getting in trouble with higher councils. Finally the train came into sight, the headlights glaring through the darkness. I shook out my umbrella and left it and my suitcases sitting on the sidewalk. They were only to help with an alibi if anyone asked what I was doing. Stepping aboard, I smoothed a strand of brown hair from my forehead.“Stilskin, take me back to Triquiana.”The little man looked at me awkwardly and rubbed his glasses and returned them to their humble perch. “Erm... well, see, you’re not going to Triquiana.”“What do you mean?”“I’ve been ordered to take you to the Council.”Magicians and councils and trouble, oh my. Finally something exciting.
Second place winner:
Two hundred dollars and a leather suitcase.
It's all I have left of her.
The last time I'd seen her was nearly three years ago. She'd been sitting on that leather trunk, her black traveling dress clean and pressed, but soaking wet even with the old black umbrella propped above her head. Her satchel was dripping pathetically on the brick walkway where she waited, but she didn't seem to notice... or care. Her head was craned eagerly to the side, her back rigid with anticipation, as the harsh yellow gaze of the train came barreling towards her. The picture was etched so clearly into my mind, there were days I almost believed I could still see her sitting there.
She'd left us against all the advice, persuasion, and threats we could muster. My father said he would disown her if she stepped foot on that train. But her mind was made up. "I'm doing the right thing, Mara." They were the last words I'd heard her speak before I turned and left her there. I listened to the train hiss to a stop, and a few minutes later chug on again. Only then did I dare to look back... and she was gone.
Twenty-three silent months later, and we received word we had a package on the train. Her leather trunk, shipped anonymously; a clipping of her obituary in an envelope on the front. Her death sounded suspicious at best. Her satchel was nowhere to be found.
My life seemed to last forever. Hers lasted only a moment.
It's my turn to await the train now. I'm going to the city my sister dreamed of- the one that took her life. I'm going to find who did this.
With all I have left of her- two hundred dollars and a leather suitcase.
Congratulations, S. Brightly! Click here for your badge. =)
First place winner:
The raindrops bounced off her black umbrella with a blitheness in sharp contrast to the despondence of her posture. She used to like the storms. They sympathized with her, were there with her in darkness when all light had fled. But now even the rain did not care. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes for the first time in years. The sky would not do her crying today. Her frame shook as she sobbed silently. She covered her mouth to muffle the sound. He would hear.
As she tried to stifle her whimpering, the long sleeve of her overcoat slipped down her wrist. Quickly she pulled it back over the scars and bruises. He had told her never to let anyone see them, that people would lock her away, that they would hate her. He’d told her a lot of things. She still remembered his gentle words, his constant declarations of love. But she did not want love. Not anymore. Love hurt. “Are you alright, miss?”
She let out a small scream and turned around, eyes wide with terror. He’d found her. It had to be him– or one of his friends. She knew all about his friends. They were rough, coarse men who did things she did not like. Instantly her gaze dropped to the ground. Never make eye contact, that was the rule. The stranger repeated his question, stepping towards her. She nodded and backed away onto a set of train tracks. He started talking again, urgently, but she did not hear. In the distance, a piercing whistle broke into her dulled mind.
Then the train came, swift and sudden. It carried her away before the man could do anything. The umbrella floated to the ground. Rain’s tears bounced blithely off it, cold, and uncaring.
Honorable Recognitions:
These winners will receive a badge, as well as 2 extra points:
- TW Wright
- Lace
- Kaity
Thanks so much to everyone who participated!
- Submit your response in the comments below, or post it on your blog via InLink (below -- you will receive 2 extra points!).
- Your response should range between 150 - 300 words.
- The deadline for the contest will be the Thursday after next.
- If you'd rather not submit your post in the comments or on your blog, you may email it to me instead.
Choose at least one:
Note: You can always combine the prompts into one entry.
- Write a passage using these items: peppermint mocha, notebook, silver ring (submitted by FlyGirl)
- Write a passage based on this picture (submitted by TW)
- Write a passage incorporating this phrase:
It was either a horrible way to end a good story, or else a terrific way to begin a nightmare. (submitted by S. Brightly)
If you're posting your entry on your blog (+2 points), please add your link below rather than in the comments:
Submit your prompt idea!:
The prompts that are used for Monday's Minute Challenge are submitted by the participants. Here's how this works:
- You will be able to submit 3 prompts each week in the same format as above: three objects, one picture, and a piece of dialogue or phrase.
- On Mondays, I will choose 3 prompts that have been submitted by 3 different people.
- If your prompt is selected, you will receive 2 points!
- You may submit in the comments below.
Congrats to all!
ReplyDeleteHere is my entry, I used the picture prompt and this is 298 words long.
My prompt entries:
Items: locket, pile of leaves, old rope swing
Picture: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/492862752945294011/
Quote: This had been going on for long enough, now it was up to me to stop it.
I ran through the forest, my pack thumping on my back with every step. I heard my comrades trampling though the forest behind me, as desperate as I to get to the road. “The road!” I heard Michael yell. “Carmen! It’s right ahead!” I burst out of the trees and stopped, nearly falling onto the dirt with exhaustion. My sister came out and adjusted her hat. “I think we lost them.” She said breathlessly.
Jared turned towards us as he sat in the front seat of the forest green Jeep. “Y’all coming?” He started the engine. Michael helped me off the ground and into the Jeep. As we started to pull away, the adrenaline subsided. I leaned back and closed my eyes, reflecting on today. My thoughts were broken by a piercing screech. My brown eyes snapped open just in time to see a pterodactyl swoop down and miss Michael by a hair - or so I thought. But Michael fell off the back of the Jeep. In a matter of seconds we were 20 feet away. I jumped off the back before Jared could stop the Jeep and stumbled back to him. I stood over him, not sure what to do. Jacob and my sister appeared beside me. Then everything ran in fast forward. The bandages, the begging Michael to stay with us… and then it was over. I felt his breath on my hand. Then it stopped. “No…” I heard my sister whisper. She shoved me aside. “No no you have to live!” She screamed. I put my hand on her shoulder. “Lissie, it’s no use. He’s dead.” She shook her head.
“We never should have come here.” She whispered… and she was right. This island was like a remake of Jurassic Park… but this was real.
-FlyGirl
Congrats to all the winners! And I love the changes, Tessa. Looking forward to this year. ^^
ReplyDeletePrompt ideas:
Object: Letter opener, stoplight, butterfly.
Picture: http://31.media.tumblr.com/eb4765754e907b394b1df9c043fa0bc9/tumblr_mgqn71WkK51s256pvo1_500.jpg
Phrase: It was an odd thing -- emotion. Why I was feeling it now out of all other times I could not understand.
Here are the prompts I would like to submit:
ReplyDeleteUse these words: Chocolate, Camera and Coffee
Word Prompt:"'Is this want being alone feels like?"
Picture Prompt: http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/236x/09/30/aa/0930aa382611b27a83d8727f40ebd071.jpg
Thank you for the honorable mention! ❤️
ReplyDeleteI'm a bit confused as to what is going on with the point system, but here's my entry!
ReplyDeleteIt was either a horrible way to end a good story, or else a terrific way to begin a nightmare. Everything had been going well. Until now. I swallowed my screams as I fled. Flames hungrily licked the sky, devouring everything I'd come to love. My only home.
The town would be consumed within minutes. Last time there had been a fire—just a small one. I'd helped pass water in a line from the well to the site of the flames. With everyone working together, we'd vanquished the fire within minutes.
But this time raiders riding fierce horses swept through the town, swinging mighty cavalry swords and setting fire to everything they found. I tried not to see the horrors around me, but I couldn't ignore the screams. All because of me.
An armored raider rode towards me, and I grabbed a young boy. About ten maybe, I didn't have time to look as I pulled him to the side, almost tripping over my skirt. He screamed. Or maybe that was me.
This is really good! If this was a book, I would devour it.
Delete-FlyGirl
Thank you :)
DeleteHey Guys! It’s `Kaity` again. Here is my story “A ring of silver; the chance to live”.
ReplyDeleteHere are my three things!
Saying: I looked around. Now I was really alone.
Three things: bars, moonlight, tears
Quietly, I sipped my peppermint mocha. The train rocked as I glanced down at the newspaper in front of me. Trying to distract myself from the pressing issue of the day, I decided to ponder over the riddle of the day.
Slowly I began to read. “The King of France gave the Queen of Normandy something to put flesh and blood into. What was it that he gave her?”
I glanced down at left hand. The silver entwining my ring finger simmered and glittered in the light. I sighed and reached for my notebook.
Opening it to the next available page, I began to write.
Dear Diary,
The more I ponder over my answer the more I feel mixed up. I have always known that Billy cared about me but I still haven’t completely made up my mind. Ever since we were young, we had a strong relationship. However, as I grow older I begin to feel more and more like the Queen of Normandy. Lately, Billy has been wrapped up in illegal dealings. I fear for my life because I know of the things he has been doing. I pray he doesn’t know. I’m off to the mountains. Perhaps he will…
A strong hand grasped my shoulder. I turned around. I was looking down the barrel of a gun.
Now I know what the King of France gave to the Queen of Normandy.
I really like this one, Kaity!
DeleteMy prompts.
ReplyDeleteThree things: French doors, lace, China cup.
Sentence: I hated being falsely accused but until this moment I hadn't realized that one could be unjustly forgiven as well.
Picture: http://www.pinterest.com/pin/104497653829104368/
HP
3 Objects: journal, wind, knife
ReplyDeleteQuote Prompt: "These are things I wanted to say, but never did."
Picture Prompt: http://www.pinterest.com/pin/492862752942578171/
Story: Dead Man’s Land
ReplyDeletePrompt used: Picture *from the perspective of the blurry man in the background, the sensible one)
Words: 300
We can’t fight ourselves. If only they’d stop. We can’t survive this alone.
I watch them from a distance. So foolish—Fighting like animals, fighting each other. We have other enemies out there who won’t wait for our quarrels to be resolved.
In my peripherals I see it becoming violent, but I don’t dare turn my head. I was the sensible one. I wasn’t like them—an animal.
The green Jeep lies behind me, front door open. I could simply slide in, drive away. For a moment it’s even tempting. But I remember: I am the smart one. I know we can’t survive alone.
Opposite escape is our greatest danger. The woods. The reason I can’t turn my head. The Perils lurk there, great beasts with tormenting claws and petrifying teeth. They’ve roamed past their land onto ours. If I look away, they come. Then they win.
We are an easy target now, open prey to be hunted. Those fighting waste energy and expose their backs. They find small dangers in disagreements and ignore the real concern. Continue this and we’d be dead by the end of the week. Other pods, they’d survive—make it to the new compound. But we’d be trapped in dead man’s land, and soon enough we’d match the name.
I watch from the corner of my eye in dismay. There’s no time for this. I have to remain sensible—the only one out of all of us, perhaps then there would be hope.
But I make a mistake. I turn my head. I expose myself. The Peril is given an opportunity.
Moments later I suspect those fighting heard a scream. They probably turned too. But they wouldn’t have seen me standing anymore.
They can’t fight themselves. If only they’d stop. They can’t survive this alone.
- Lace
Prompt submissions:
1. Juice box, salamander, and shovel
2. http://www.blackelkstudios.com/photography/artistic/urban-french-girl
3. To my horror, she lost her grip and began to fall
Story: Dead Man’s Land
ReplyDeletePrompt used: Picture
Words: 300
We can’t fight ourselves. If only they’d stop. We can’t survive this alone.
I watch them from a distance. So foolish—Fighting like animals, fighting each other. We have other enemies out there who won’t wait for our quarrels to be resolved.
In my peripherals I see it becoming violent, but I don’t dare turn my head. I was the sensible one. I wasn’t like them—an animal.
The green Jeep lies behind me, front door open. I could simply slide in, drive away. For a moment it’s even tempting. But I remember: I am the smart one. I know we can’t survive alone.
Opposite escape is our greatest danger. The woods. The reason I can’t turn my head. The Perils lurk there, great beasts with tormenting claws and petrifying teeth. They’ve roamed past their land onto ours. If I look away, they come. Then they win.
We are an easy target now, open prey to be hunted. Those fighting waste energy and expose their backs. They find small dangers in disagreements and ignore the real concern. Continue this and we’d be dead by the end of the week. Other pods, they’d survive—make it to the new compound. But we’d be trapped in dead man’s land, and soon enough we’d match the name.
I watch from the corner of my eye in dismay. There’s no time for this. I have to remain sensible—the only one out of all of us, perhaps then there would be hope.
But I make a mistake. I turn my head. I expose myself. The Peril is given an opportunity.
Moments later I suspect those fighting heard a scream. They probably turned too. But they wouldn’t have seen me standing anymore.
They can’t fight themselves. If only they’d stop. They can’t survive this alone.
- Lace
Prompt submissions:
1. Juice box, salamander, and shovel
2. http://www.blackelkstudios.com/photography/artistic/urban-french-girl
3. To my horror, she lost her grip and began to fall
I am super late but here is my story. 300 words and I used both the sentence prompt and the word prompts.
ReplyDeleteI blink my eyes open against the grittiness that comes with sleep. The world swam before me and I squeezed my eyes shut again, becoming cognizant of the pain in my head.
After a moment I cautiously took a peek. The small ray of light from an overhead window showed the shards of glass laying scattered on the floor around me. What little furniture the room possessed stood upturned and broken.
Little by little, memory of what had happened returned to me. Father’s death, my slim escape from being killed myself, then my friends taking me to this place. They said no-one knew where I was, that I would be safe here. But by the evidence that surrounded me they were wrong.
A thought of the hiding place flashed through my mind. I had to make sure everything was still there, that they hadn’t found it. Gingerly I pulled myself into a sitting position, wincing at the pain ripping through my body.
On hands and knees I crawled across the floor. Past the shards of shattered glass, broken furniture, and the stain left on the carpet from where I had dropped my peppermint mocha in the chaos.
Somehow the sturdy oak desk managed to stay upright in the upheaval.
I lifted the secret panel and sat back in dismay. The compartment was empty. Gone was father’s notebook and silver ring with the government insignia; and with them the only things that stood between me and imprisonment. While I had them I had at least a modicum of safety, without them I stood unprotected in a den of wolves.
I took a breath.
It was either a horrible way to end a good story, or else a terrific way to begin a nightmare. I was just afraid to find out which.
(P.S. I sent in my prompt ideas, however, I don't see them among the published comments. Just thought I would let you know.)
HP