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November is National Novel Writing Month. So, we’re presenting a challenge to you. Write a novel in 12 words or less and send it to us at onthemedia@wnyc.org. Or post it here in our comments section. The deadline is November 19th. We'll read our favorites on the air Thanksgiving weekend. Good luck!
Each book, half-read, left his thoughts ill-formed. Never an argument done.
"Insignificance"
by Michael Rubinstein
A man lived and then he died.
Felicity tribute:
"Can't wait to see what the city looks like when it snows."
This is obviously not mine... it's from Felicity's pilot episode by JJ Abrams.
"Impermanence"
by Michael Rubinstein
A single phone call and your life will never the same.
Her death of embolism, I revived her but she passed before arrival..
My own original 12 word novel
"Mother's Calling"
My mother saw a falling star.
I got burnt.
She did not.
The cat lady perceived a Disney idyll; the little birds discerned Guantanamo.
12 word novel
Title: Myth Busters: Fire and Flatulence
Surveying burnt boxers, braised buttocks, & baked-beans, Jamie announced, "Myth confirmed."
"Black Trees on the Wall"
She turned off the lights. Moonlight was enough to end it all.
Here are four 12 word novels:
A twelve-word novel? Damn you NPR, another Sunday evening lost. Writer's Block.
Justice, his intent, his enemy was stronger and winners write history
He, a virgin, sought her, the prostitute. Intercourse inevitable; innocence lost again.
It started happy, grew sad, became blinded by depression; now rests peacefully.
Cheers
12 Words 14 Months
Cancer
Condolences
Addiction
Remorse
Sobriety
Weakness
Sobriety Again
Relocation
Hired
Breath Again
12 Words 14 Months
Cancer
Condolences
Addiction
Remorse
Sobriety
Weakness
Sobriety Again
Relocation
Hired
Breath Again
Cancer Condolences, Addiction, Remorse, Sobriety, Weakness, Sobriety Again, Relocation, Hired, Breath Again
The feline empire collapsed, its best young minds gone soft on milk.
Here's my entry:
The Novel's Title is "Crocodile Tears"
She thought graveside tears fooled them.
Wrong.
Handcuffs bruised Lillian's bejeweled wrists.
Six words into his first novel, Sam's lonely wife murdered him.
“Joe died,” spat Earl.
Ed nodded.
Short on words, they buried him.
Cancer scared her. She asked us not to leave. We stayed forever.
Depressed with writer’s block, it was me or my novel.
The End.
"The Trip"
Hong Kong was a lifetime ago. Weeks later, he unpacked her suitcase.
George’s parachute was shredded.
A religious man, he said his final… Splat!
A mathematics career was denied me. So I wrote twelve word novels instead.
Falling into that black hole didn't kill him. Losing his gravitas did.
Two submissions....
The wolf called. She followed, finding wisdom between shadows and the moon.
Brittle memories shattered as time took him from her. Finally, they reunite.
She was short.
Her story, too.
There ain’t much else to tell.
But, it is my job to be verbose, she said on television.
“My wife, my son, my kingdom for a thirteenth word!” cried the
2 more -
She started complaining early, upside down!
Three days after his execution, he was seen up and about.
"The Trip"
Hong Kong was a lifetime ago. Weeks later, he unpacked her suitcase.
I lived sweetly, swinging in the wind, while daydreaming of better days.
A novel in twelve words, by Emma, four years old.
Adapted by her daddy from her 31 word opus, “In the Shadow of the Moonlight”
In the moonlight, a tiny, tiny, little bird hatched.
It was me!
Wearing a smile, she said, "good morning." I fell in love again.
"6:45 pm"
Considering the universe, Susan abandoned the bisque. Dinner: a waste of time.
A plane takes off. A plane lands. Everyone is ok. Except me.
"Ex"
He doesn't know where you are. He can't hurt you anymore.
"Denim"
Incomparable joy! Pull them up, zip, button. They haven't fit in years.
He had flair. She turned out to be practical. History. Inevitability.
He had flair. She turned out to be practical. History. Inevitability.
"My Good Boy"
The fire was absolute.
Sirens.
"Mother is gone," James biked away muttering.
No one knew Bill killed Sally. Guilty ulcers killed Bill. Karma wins!
He had flair. She turned out to be practical. History. Inevitability.
The open wilderness can be deadly. That’s why Al lives in Boston.
The fountain bubbled peacefully in sharp contrast to Sal’s final moments.
“Here?”
“No.”
“Here?”
“Nope.”
“How about here?”
“Definitely not.”
“Here?”
“That’ll work.”
He had flair. She turned out to be practical. History. Inevitability.
Slicing turkey for one at last, George smiled at his knife's accomplishments.
Two entries for the writing contest.
Her epitaph: I told you this house was killing me, you bastard.
When she said he pissed her off, he thought she was joking.
OTM entry 12 word novel
Title -50 and counting
Fifty years together, two great children, Thank you Sally.
My best friend
Kissing cousins. Licking dangerously. Mom and pop to twisted tots. Oh my!
I thought This house will feel so empty soon. It does.
"Son?"
"Yeah?"
"Did I ever tell you about..."
"Yep, you did."
"Oh."
His stretched his neck across the writer's block, welcoming sweet steel relief.
As a writer she'd love this shit. That's only seven said mom.
"The Birthday"
“Dinner parties should be easier for septuagenarians,” she lamented.
Reticence prevails again.
---
(this is fun!!!)
"Stupid contest!" she screamed.
"But I could win," he whimpered.
"Fat chance!"
Wake. Shower. Groom. Dress. Rehearse. Walk. Arrive. Order. Sit. Fidget.
Meet her.
He left me to raise Peter on my own. I thanked him.
Joey said, "Your mother has stories about everything even Epsom salts."
Kissing cousins. Licking dangerously. Mom and pop to twisted tots. Grandma rolls.
He stretched his neck across the writer's block, welcoming sweet steel relief.
The Great American Novel (abridged)
Like all of us, he died never knowing what it was about.
title of novel: we are won!
pregnant. sick. emergency. premature. separated. isolated. tubes. wires. time. healing. homecoming. motherhood.
I'm so lonely. Will this ache every stop? Help me.
“What time is it?”
“Time for you to get a watch.”
“Jerk.”
Making a seven course meal isn’t hard. Effectively hiding the poison is.
Title: The Frat Boy, The Genie and a Substantial Loss in Federal Tax Revenue
“To Hell With Georgia!” he cheered during the football game.
“Wish granted.”
(Hey, the big Tech/UGA game is this week...)
His last meal never arrived; it was a false pardon.
Little did she know that the unexpected detour would lead back home.
You're fired!" bellowed Brad.
"For what?" Steve cried.
"Speling erors, you dumas!"
Short novel entry:
Record almost broken.
Little did she know that the unexpected detour would lead back home.
Home was a ham sandwich on Pepperidge Farm bread. I miss that.
My mother said she gave up baseball when the Dodgers left Brooklyn.
Together, they pledged to win the next, and last, election.
-- SCAM
Seizures. Autism. Why my kids? Who will love them after I'm gone ?
It's fun to get a real letter. Something that's not a bill.
"Would you "tup" if you had the opportunity?"
"No way!"
The directions said the chair would hold 250 pounds. It didn't.
EASY ASSEMBLY. Who are they kidding?
Strike, a silent keyboard. I'll catch up on the tan and sleep.
Title: "Deathbed"
"I'm dying; my life is flashing before me."
"Where are my glasses?"
Call my Starbucks barista. Ask "is she male?" Then wait for wail.
They said "I do" but in my head I was screaming DON'T.
Sex with my mom? I'm outta here. Oh no. I'm blind now.
For your consideration:
There was no warning sign on the road.
Everything was happening exactly as those in her nightmare.
Shockenly, there was no film in the camera.
Tearing off his mask, the surgeon slumped to the floor.
His reflection did not appear in the mirror!
The warning label had been removed from the pill bottle.
Title: "Dutch"
"I'll pay." he said.
"I'll pay." she said.
They agreed.
They ate.
Buddhist shrine. Grandmother's portrait in cherrywood. Her dead gaze never left me.
That will be one too many. So we won't bring her.
My fantasy/sci-fi submission:
She smiled, and cast her eyes upon me. They bounced.
"A Child's Tale"
The cat finally got revenge. “Nobody likes a whiner,” he purred viscously.
My eyes’ celestial journey halted as the fireflies danced at my feet.
Land of liberty
Went mad with power.
Flip that damn burger, Fatso!
He left his wife for me. Years later, it’s my turn alone.
A western:
Blood-soaked ace on the card table. Saloon doors swing.
I found poems called “Death” on her nightstand: she was gone forever.
She gradually discovered that the Golden Rule does not apply to masochists.
The beer went down easily. It's the only thing that ever does.
"For sale: baby shoes, never worn." by Ernest Hemingway
PRESSURE
"Yes!" He insisted.
"No," she refused.
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
She paused. "Okay."
Private papers, public welcome.
