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Writing wrong
admin, adminPublished: November 8, 2007
William Cooley, Editor in Chief
Published: October 29, 2007 Section:Opinion
Bad writing is usually not a good thing.
It prevents you from passing English 1A, makes you look bad at the office and can really ruin those romantic wedding vows you wrote “all by yourself.”
Sometimes though, writing can be so bad, that it’s good. This is where Victorian novelist Edward Bulwer-Lytton comes in.
Since 1982 the English Department of San Jose State University (SJSU) has been honoring the late, great author by holding the annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, which recognizes the best of the worst writing.
Drawing on inspiration from Bulwer-Lytton’s infamously verbose 1830 novel Paul Clifford, contest entrants are challenged to “compose the opening sentence to the worst of all possible novels,” in categories ranging from children’s literature to romance.
While Paul Clifford is not necessarily the “worst possible novel,” all it takes is one look at the opening sentence to understand why it is unique:
“It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.”
Whew! If you made it all the way through the 57 words of that sentence/paragraph then congratulations, you’ve taken the first step in writing your own Bulwer-Lytton entry.
That’s right; you too can be world-renowned for your terribly awesome writing. All it takes is a little research and practice.
The first step is understanding what makes the opening of Paul Clifford so bad.
Obviously, a 57-word run-on sentence is inherently problematic, but length is really the least of the sentence’s problems. The real problem is the prose itself.
Loquacious descriptions, overtly dramatic flair and excessively flowery language make for a truly terrifying sentence worthy of the Bulwer-Lytton name.
With that in mind, we can move on to the second step: avoiding common Bulwer-Lytton pitfalls. According to the contest rules, it is highly recommended that sentences not exceed 50 to 60 words or include extremely obvious puns.
This is excellent information because a run-on sentence or play-on-words alone is not enough to make a sentence truly worthy of Bulwer-Lytton.
Other common problems include using too many descriptive adjectives and having too many dimensions to a sentence.
This leads us to the third step: practice. The more you write, the better you will get at it, even if you are trying to write badly.
Don’t be surprised if your first few (or even first dozen) aren’t very funny. It takes time to master the art of horrible writing. One thing you can do to increase the learning curve is to draw on previous entries for motivation.
Jim Guigli of Carmichael, Calif. penned this winning entry in the 2006 contest:
“Detective Bart Lasiter was in his office studying the light from his one small window falling on his super burrito when the door swung open to reveal a woman whose body said you’ve had your last burrito for a while, whose face said angels did exist, and whose eyes said she could make you dig your own grave and lick the shovel clean.”
As if the language in Guigli’s entry wasn’t lavish enough, Gary Dahl from Los Gatos won in 2000 with this ridiculously descriptive sentence:
“The heather-encrusted Headlands, veiled in fog as thick as smoke in a crowded pub, hunched precariously over the moors, their rocky elbows slipping off land’s end, their bulbous, craggy noses thrust into the thick foam of the North Sea like bearded old men falling asleep in their pints.”
Although both men’s entries are hilarious and lay the descriptive words on thick like mustard on a cheap deli sandwich, both also contain literary devices that can be of assistance to every writer.
In Guigli’s entry, the use of said (”Whose body said…whose face said…whose eyes said”) is an example of repetition and serves to create rhythm.
The number of major descriptions Guigli uses (body, face and eyes) also works to his advantage by employing the rule of three, which states that writing is always more comical, more pleasing to the eye and more effective when it comes in threes.
In Dahl’s entry, excess description of a subject is used to achieve maximum effect. Look at nearly every noun in the sentence and you will see a compound modifier (“heather-encrusted”) or multiple adjectives (“bulbous, craggy noses”).
Dahl also employees a creative simile, which he carries throughout the entire sentence. Instead of simply stating that “The headlands are like a pub,” he shows us why, using detailed and comical descriptions.
Current winners can be seen at http://www.bulwer-lytton.com.
Short stuff
For those that prefer their humor in a smaller bite-size, there is also the Bulwer-Lytton’s height-challenged cousin, the Lyttle-Lytton Contest, which is run by American author Adam Cadre.
The rules are similar to the Bulwer-Lytton contest, but the focus is on shorter sentences (30 words maximum).
Submissions must also legitamately sound like the beginning of a novel, which is not always the case with the Bulwer-Lytton.
Like Cadre, I tend to favor the shorter sentences because the payoff is immediate. In some ways, writers also have to craft a sentence for maximum impact when the number of words is limited.
As a result, the contest features short, extremely expressive phrases devoid of the long-windedness so common to many Bulwer-Lytton entries.
One of my personal favorites came courtesy of Leon Arnott, who penned this third-place-winning 2007 entry: “The foot delivered an unending holocaust of pain as it rocketed into Zamboni’s crotch.”
Rachel Lambert, won in 2004 with what could be the funniest opening sentence to a book ever (especially if you are a college-age male): “This is the story of your mom’s life.”
Adding to the hilarity and aiding perspective entrants with their own writing, Cadre also includes a paragraph about what makes each entry so funny. Even though you may not agree with his critiques, it is a good way to learn what Lyttle-Lytton is looking for.
To read more entries and get a complete list of rules visit the contest website athttp://adamcadre.ac/lyttle.html.
No matter which contest you prefer, go ahead and try writing a few entries. It will increase your knowledge of literary devices and might lead to a few laughs.
With a little time and effort you’ll be writing badly in no time.
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