The
Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest is an annual ...contest which asks for the worst possible opening sentence to a novel.
It's spawned an unrelated offshoot, the
Lyttle Lytton Contest, which asks submitters to limit themselves to 25 words. On a whim earlier this year, I sent in a sentence.
I won. I guess this is something to be proud of?
By the way, he actually missed a comma between the last two words.
edited to add some following potential entries for next year's lyttle lytton:
--
Hawkman bided ferociously, chewing his cuticle (right pinky) until a largish speck of skin peeled back -- you know the feeling, right? -- and murmured in pain.
--
What goes on in D'Shawn Guttmanssdottir's eyeglasses case?
--
"Oi, ye allways does thaht, Bernie," shouted his stout, hairy, damnit-won't-you-leave-me-alone, beloved Third Concubine.
--
When I approached my editor (also a college ex-girlfriend, don't you know, and kind of lousy in the sack) about this book, she was ambivalent.
Y'all got any?