Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Wow! (03/11/10)
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TITLE: Conquering Mount Everest | Previous Challenge Entry
By Beth Muehlhausen
03/18/10 -
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Me: “This is awful.”
You: “What’s so awful?”
Me: “I’m stuck.”
You: “What? Why?”
Me: “Oh nothing, really.”
You: “Sure. You’re depressed just for fun. Now really. What’s going on?”
Me: “Well. Every Thursday I enter an online writing contest ... EVERY WEEK without fail. I’ve written over 200 entries on all kinds of topics, but this time I have a horrible case of writer’s block. And my submission is due tomorrow morning.”
You: “What’s the topic? Maybe I can help with an idea.”
Me: “I doubt it.”
You: “Try me.”
Me: “Wow!”
You: “What?”
Me: “That’s the topic.”
You: “What’s the topic?”
Me: “The topic is, ‘Wow!’ Get it?”
You: “Ohhhhh … I see.”
Me: “I can’t think of a single story that would wow anyone. What’s wrong with me?”
You: “Hmmmm. You must be brain dead.”
Me: “Oh thanks.”
You: “Just for tonight, silly. Not totally.”
Me: “That comforting.”
You: “Look, I’m trying to come alongside here.”
Me: “Well, I need an idea. If you come alongside you have to bring an idea with you … or else leave me alone. I’d rather pout by myself if I’m not able to write.”
You: “How about this. You could write about what a wow-moment it was when you realized you had such a horrible case of writer’s block … like wow, why should YOU have writer’s block? You, the practiced writer who has never missed a week in this … this … online thing … suddenly develops … wow, of all things … WRITER’S BLOCK!”
Me: “You think that has merit?”
You: “Of course it does! Your readers would totally identify.”
Me: “I don’t know.”
You: “What don’t you know?”
Me: “I’m just not wow-ed by this state of brain deadness.”
You: “I’d say you’re VERY wow’ed, like wow-let’s-get-on-with-the-show-here.”
Me: “I suppose.”
You: “You could start with, let’s see, let me think …”
Me: “This had better be good.”
You: “Look. YOU’RE the writer-person. I’m just trying to jump-start your brain.”
Me: “Like with jumper cables.”
You: “Exactly.”
Me: “So, hook me up.”
You: “I’m trying …”
Me: “So far we’re just a couple of loony friends talking about nothing. That’s not wow-ing me.”
You: “Ah, but maybe that’s it, don’t you see? Real friends don’t even need to be coherent! They can just hang out and blab about things that make no sense at all. Wow! That’s pretty cool.”
Me: “That’s ridiculous.”
You: “You’re being stubborn and impossible.”
Me: “But I’m your friend, so you can’t yell at me.”
You: “Now you’re quoting me. I find that slightly annoying.”
Me: “Look. All I know is that I’m just as stuck as when this conversation began.”
You: “But we’re brainstorming!”
Me: “Is that what you call this?”
You: “Okay then, we’re wasting time and getting nowhere.”
Me: “Some consolation you are.”
You: “Hey. I know. Let’s try poetry.”
Me: “Poetry?”
You: “Rhyme.”
Me: “I KNOW what poetry is, you goon.”
You: “So start with a line, something about being wow-ed. Then maybe I’ll add to it?”
Me: “A collaborative effort – how sweet.”
You: “Try me.”
Me: “There once was a wow-zer from wow-op-olis …”
You: “That’s horrible. That’s just plain braid-dead-awful.”
Me: “Of course it is.
You: “I think we need to try some sort of shock therapy on you at this point.”
Me: “Shock therapy. I see.”
You: “We’re back to the jumper cable idea.”
Me: “So what do you suggest? What kind of shock?”
You: “It needs to be a high energy jolt …”
Me: “Electrifying.”
You: “Got it. I know the solution.”
Me: “Oh cut it out.”
You: “At the Club – it’s called a Chocolate Mount Everest.”
Me: “WHAT?”
You: “A whole half-gallon of rocky road ice cream topped with hot fudge, Oreo crumbs, and whipped cream. It’s supposed to serve a handful of people, but I bet you and I could finish it off ourselves.”
Me: “WOW. Sounds shocking, all right.”
You: “Are you chicken?”
Me: “Of course not!”
You: “Then let’s go!”
Me: “Wow, you’re serious.”
You: “Wow, I am.”
Me: “Wow!”
You: “Wow back-at-cha!”
Me: “Then I can write about the wow-experience of conquering Mount Everest …”
You: “Sheer genius!”
Me: “ … from the long-stemmed maraschino cherry to the bloated waistband …”
You: “Hey you, you’re unblocking!”
Me: “ … to the foggy morning-after when the noble scales tell the truth …”*
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* The dialog necessarily ends here as the author and her friend are currently ingesting Mount Everest.
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