Short Story: ‘The Writer’s Hook’ ~REDUX~

Chapters

The Scenario

Two world-renowned, bestselling authors take part in a competition organised by the esteemed literary magazine, ‘COLLABATUR’ – I am sure the name is familiar among literary snobs the world over.

The prize offered by the magazine is a substantial monetary reward, as well as a lengthy contract for exclusivity in their ‘monthly feature’ section, the penultimate in publishing and a premium highly coveted in the world of literature. The unofficial prize, however, is a definitive answer as to the question of whom the more skillful writer is between our two authors. They have long since considered each other rivals, criticizing each other’s work to no end in the media – a symbiotic dose of challenge to keep each writer in top shape.

As for the nature of the competition itself: both writers must produce a series of three short stories pertaining to specified genres supplied by the editors of the magazine. The three genres are selected at random; the first genre chosen will be published in the magazine, allotting a month for each writer to complete and submit their stories. The submitted stories will then be published in the next issue, along with exclusive interviews from the authors, the next chosen genre, and the readers’ voting results of the previous month’s submissions.

Upon a winning story, an author is awarded a point – since the competition is essentially a ‘best-out-of-three’ contest, the first author to reach two points will be crowned the victor. The proprietors of the magazine have systems in place to verify that all votes counted are legitimate.

An Introduction

Ophelia Goldenlime is the true essence of a classical writer. Meticulously dedicated to her craft with a refined background in literature of all types from Philosophy to Children’s Fiction. She has covered a wide range of genres over the years with a noticeable affinity for romance, fantasy, and historical fiction. Highly respected among readers and critics alike, she has never been out of print since her debut novel, ‘Through the eyes of an angel’ (an overnight success), in which a fallen angel is tasked with chronicling the events of humanity throughout the ages, told in an interesting stoic style where tales of good and evil aren’t always easily discerned from each other.

In recent times, Goldenlime is mostly known for her award-winning ongoing romance series ‘Lustre’, told as a thrilling epistolary between two adulterine lovers from diverse backgrounds: he a poor beetroot farmer, she an affluent member of parliament. Hailed as a beautifully woven tragedy in the making, it has had a certain swooning effect on elderly and young adult audiences alike.

Max Dangerfield is a master storyteller and playboy extraordinaire; his personal life is as interesting as his spectacularly crafted fiction. Depending on who you ask, opinions concerning his work and the man himself are varied. Some critics say he is a clever genius with unrivalled technique in crafting subjective experiences, arguing that the latent meaning behind his works will never be fully understood by contemporary audiences, others say he cunningly strings together loosely woven plots that instantly fall apart upon scrutiny. Whichever point of view regarding Dangerfield, there is no doubt as to his popularity whether in life or print and his uniqueness in style as an author.

With bestselling novels such as: ‘Stomach Foot’ – a critically acclaimed horror masterpiece about killer snails, notoriously banned from schools and churches alike – and ‘Green Greed Grove’ – an action-thriller epic in which a group of cunning garden gnomes hatch a plan to conduct a dangerous money heist against the government – Dangerfield is a seasoned author who has carved out his writing niche with a career only a year shorter than Goldenlime’s.

The fans hungrily await the first round of stories. The authors eagerly await the latest issue of COLLABATUR in the mail.

The Goldenlime Estate

The heavy high-heeled footsteps of Goldenlime’s assistant burst into the foyer. In her hand she clutches the foil-wrapped issue of this month’s COLLABATUR and frantically pans the room, breathless from the brisk jog down from the gates.

To say the room was decorated exquisitely would be a crass understatement and an offense to the dichotomous marble crescent staircases and bespoke Bohemian crystalline chandelier. If one were ever overheard in a court of law saying that Ophelia Goldenlime was a modest woman who only ever spent frugally, they would be subsequently convicted of perjury. Even if you are only half-familiar with her work, you know that Goldenlime is filthy-rich and not afraid to show it.

The assistant spotted movement amongst the chiffoniers and chesterfields. “Monsieur Wilshire!”

Goldenlime’s elderly manservant, Wilshire, had been scrupulously dusting off the many award trophies that littered every cabinet and shelf of the room. In a startle he twirled around to face the assistant.

Waving the wrapped magazine in the air she asked, “Monsieur Wilshire. Have you seen Ophelia? The magazine just arrived. She said to deliver it right away! Right away she said!”

“Last I saw her was in the garden, she was-” before he can finish, the assistant darts past him out into the garden walkway waving back thanks. He simply shook his head and resumed his duties of dusting.

The garden of the Goldenlime Estate was labyrinthian and carefully kept. With looming squared hedges and an imponderable cascade of floral arrangements, it was easy to get lost in this veritable maze of flora, but luckily for the assistant she found Goldenlime under a gazebo enjoying her morning Narcissus tea before long.

The assistant rushed up the patio steps and thrust out the magazine in a breathless sputter, “Magazine… Post… Just arrived!”

Goldenlime took the magazine from her with a slight nod, “Thank you dear, come sit awhile, you must be parched.”

After a few moments of browsing, Goldenlime’s eyes brightened in joy and her mouth erupted into a gleeful smile. She flipped the magazine around to her assistant, pointing out a section marked in bold, “You’ll never guess what the first topic is for the competition, ha!” They both tittered upon the revelation.

Dangerfield’s Apartment

Ring ring, ring ring… A drowsy and hungover Max Dangerfield rolls over in bed grasping for his phone, answering it in a grump, “What?”

“Max, please tell me you aren’t still sleeping on such an important day?” On the other end of the phone is Alice, his agent of ten years, “Get your arse up and check the post, the latest issue of COLLABATUR should be there, you’ll find the first topic on page eight. Don’t take too long, the public is expecting your initial response. Goldenlime has already put out a statement, but err, best not to look it up for fear of stage fright.”

“Morning to you too, Alice. Wait, what? What do you mean?” Dangerfield yawns, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“It’s three in the afternoon, Max. Ehm… let’s just say it’s one of your more ‘under-developed’ genres, I won’t spoil the big surprise, but get back to me with a statement ASAP – this is a contest decided by the majority, we need to engage with them.”

“Yes, yes, I know, thank you Alice. I’ll be in touch.” He puffed out a stretch before jumping from bed and scouring a garment pile for some fresh clothes to wear.

Dangerfield’s high-rise penthouse apartment was the envy of all his friends. A spacious hub for everything designer it even had its own bar lined with every top-shelf brand of spirit under the sun. It was also in a perpetual state of disarray. To those that knew him, Dangerfield was a notorious slob who only ever tidied up when absolutely necessary. Currently, the previous week’s takeout trays and purchased articles of high-end fashion littered the bedroom, the second bedroom, the guestroom, the second guestroom, and the living room’s living room. He’d made, and subsequently ignored, many plans to clean the place, but everything was conveniently on hold now that the competition was about to begin.

In his kitchen, coffee on the brew, he snatched up the issue of COLLABATUR retrieved from the post and crudely tore away at the foil packaging, causing ash from his lit cigarette to fall to the table. Carelessly, he combed through the first few pages of the magazine, the coffee pot emitting a low rumble, sifting through non-important updates and articles for the first topic of the competition. He whirred an ungraceful snort when he met page eight’s header, upon which the word ‘Romance’ was highlighted in bold. The preamble of a migraine furrows on his brow as the coffee pot’s rumble ascends to an annoyingly high-pitched whistle…

Romance

Burning desire the colour of rose petal and heart throbbing heartaches, romance is the genre that speaks the language of love. A careful mix of tenderness and fiery passion in part dominates the shelves of romantic literature. Everybody loves somebody sometimes, and sometimes that someone prefers it in a fantastical literary form that they can steal away with and gush over to their heart’s content.

Three-and-a-half weeks later. Both writers are scrambling to put the finishing touches on their respective stories for submission to the magazine.

Goldenlime, being somewhat of an expert in the genre, unsurprisingly found her muse quite easily and wove a beautifully crafted story of starry-eyed lovers separated by feuding families who overcome the prejudices of both family and society through the power of true love. A crude yet surprisingly effective narrative, this she knew from experience and utilized all the usual tropes in keeping the audience guessing ‘will they, won’t they?’ She had included cameos of fan-favourite characters from her Lustre series, and she was especially proud of the way she meticulously built and released tension throughout the story, keeping the readers on edge and wanting more.

Dangerfield on the other hand, had written and rewritten a brutal tale of sex, violence, and vengeance. A crass rendition of the typical ‘boy-meets-girl’ story, told in a vivid style aimed at a more deviant type of reader. Working in unison with his agent, this style was deliberately chosen and worked on. Contemporary romance was not Dangerfield’s forte, so together they devised a strategy against Goldenlime. Knowing that Goldenlime would more or less stick to what she knows best, Dangerfield aimed to entertain through sheer shock value alone, only loosely keeping to the romance genre requirement of the story.

As part of their marketing campaign, the magazine organised a mini-interview with each writer upon submission of their stories, requesting comments on the stories they wrote and how they think the competitor will fare.

First came Goldenlime’s response: “I’ve a nice treat in store for my beloved fans, a unique little quirky tale written in my signature style that they know and love. Most assuredly tears will be shed and hearts will be broken in steamy exchanges of red-hot passion and back-handed betrayal. How do I think Dangerfield will manage? Well, let’s just say I’ve never seen his work of the genre lining the bookstore shelves,” she chortled. “I don’t think he is particularly strong with romance, the genre or otherwise, and I’m not too worried that he’ll surpass me in writing. He’ll most likely try to subvert our expectations with something unconventional, he does have a particular talent for that I’ll give him but as we all know for a fact, I’m the best to ever do it.”

Dangerfield ignored the obsequious response prepared for him by his agent, deciding instead to go ad-lib in a somewhat eccentric harangue: “Forget what you think you know of love and romance; this isn’t a tale about all that lovey-dovey make-believe tripe. This is a gritty tale of the toil and sacrifice that modern romance demands. Of being more than you are, regardless of if you are capable or not. I see you all out there trying your hardest not to be ugly, trying your best to fit in, and this is the story for you.” On being asked to comment on his rival, Dangerfield had this to say: “Goldenlime will without a doubt rehash the same old drivel she’s been churning out these past few years. Lovers on opposite sides of the poverty line who overcome the odds by blah blah blah. We’ve seen it all before and we’ve heard it time and time again, it’s getting old and predictable. But then again if it ain’t broke don’t fix it. She is much more familiar and successful in this genre than I, but in terms of creating something fresh and new, I’ve got a leg up on this one.”

The editors were delighted. A feud was brewing that was sure to spark up drama and increase readership. The stories alongside the contest’s next genre were published in the eighth page of the new issue of COLLABATUR: Science-Fiction.

Science-Fiction

Far-out future worlds, mind-bending technologies, and more-often-than-not a foreboding undertone on the dangers of flying too close to the sun, science-fiction seeks to transport the reader into a wonderous world of awe and astonishment. Robots, laser beams, medical anomalies, and space exploration are popular components of this literary genre and many an author has, knowingly or otherwise, dipped into science-fiction at one time or another. Take something grounded in reality and push the envelope ever so forward with a well construed ‘What if?’ and you’ve got yourself the makings of a tale steeped in science-fiction.

The Goldenlime Estate

“Drivel he says!” Goldenlime’s indignant, high-pitched voice reverberates throughout her study as she reads the latest issue of COLLABATUR. “The nerve! Talking about modern romance demanding sacrifice, duh, romance has always demanded something from all parts involved. Seriously, does he think himself profound by stating the obvious!?” She glared out over Dangerfield’s response in the magazine to her assistant who sits across from her.

“I don’t know Ophelia, but I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Dangerfield has no chance against you!” the assistant returns a warm, if awkward, smile. “Anyways, we better get started on the new story, right?”

Goldenlime felt a slight relief, “Of course, of course. So, science-fiction, not too different from fantasy, we should be fine. We’ll do some sort of cross-racial, interspecies romance between alien civilizations in a futuristic setting, people should lap that up.”

“But… shouldn’t we stick more to the genre itself? Are you not worried of,” the assistant chose her next words carefully, Goldenlime was known for a nasty temper when riled up, “a certain… fatigue setting in with the readers and editors of the magazine?”

“No, it will be fine! ‘If it ain’t broke don’t fix it’,” Goldenlime squinted, imitating Dangerfield’s words. “We’ll simply change out the names and locations of some scrapped scenarios from lustre with something nerdy, work on some futuristic backdrop for a lover’s quarrel and we’re golden. I can beat Dangerfield any day on popularity alone. Get to work researching the latest popular theories on what aliens look like – I need to know body features that can be described sensually!” Goldenlime waved her assistant away and began digging through a pile of notes.

Dangerfield’s ‘Home Away from Home’ Lake House

“Yeah, yeah I know, I just had to get away from the city for a while,” Dangerfield shifted his cell phone to the opposite ear as he unpacked some notebooks onto his writing desk. “I’ve already gotten started on it, you’re going to love this one, action-packed and full of surprises.”

The voice of his agent, Alice, is on the other end of the phone, “Good, good, you had me worried when you all of a sudden left the apartment.”

“I do some of my best work from the lake house, less hustle and bustle than the city, aids in my concentration etcetera, etcetera…” He cracked a sly smile to himself while rearranging pen baskets and staplers.

“You’re worried about losing the first round to Goldenlime, aren’t you? It can’t be helped, just wasn’t a good genre for you.” A sharp breeze whistles through the phone, Alice must be out and about.

“When have you ever known me to worry? Sure, it’s all a learning experience at the end of the day,” the corners of Dangerfield’s mouth contorted into a slight frown. “Listen I’m going to let you go, I’ve got some things here to unpack and a lot of stuff to research concerning space travel and the like. I’ll call you in the next week or so, bye.” Clicking off his cell phone he took a seat at his writing desk. His papers, notes, and cigarettes were neatly organised and within reach. He poured himself a tumbler of whiskey, closed his eyes, and became lost in thought.

The month passed quickly for Goldenlime. She finished her story within two weeks and decided to take it easy, not worrying too much about the competition as she was sure she would undoubtably win. Her story was a futuristic romance chock full of the usual romantic tropes yet again. She had half-heartedly penned an interstellar interspecies romance between two unlikely lovers from distant alien civilizations. The sci-fi setting allowed her to be especially creative concerning the ‘lovemaking’ portions of the story where her saucy description featured an alarming number of sensual tentacles, girthy goo, and fondling feelers. A minimum effort was spent world-building the futuristic backdrop of her story, she chose instead to rely heavily on her established influence as a writer to carry it forward.

Dangerfield had a much harder time of it. He had struggled to decide upon a subject for his story and scrapped many ideas before choosing an action-centric plot. His story focused on a fugitive starship pilot being hunted across the galaxy for a crime he didn’t commit. He wanted to create a fully realized sci-fi setting without drowning the reader in exposition and as such, decided to build the portrayed world in an ad-hoc fashion – revealing lore as events unfolded in what he knew was an effective storytelling technique. Sci-fi was a much stronger genre for his unusual style and the backdrop of the cosmos afforded him action-packed scenes of thrilling chases and narrow escapes through nebulae and asteroid fields. The gnawing feeling of certain defeat regarding the first round drove Dangerfield forward throughout the story’s production, he was determined to even-out the playing field and had just the genre to do so.

Month One Results: Romance

The votes have been counted for each story submitted for the previous month’s romance topic and the results have been released. The magazine’s popularity surged as readers came in droves to see their favourite authors engaged in literary contest. Online discussions were rampant as to which of the two writers would come out on top with critics and fans the world over chiming in with the globally trending #TeamDangerfield and #TeamGoldenlime. There was much excitement and anxiety in the air which the magazine’s marketing department fully exploited, setting up expert critique panels, podcasts, and of course, merch to profit from the hype.

Goldenlime’s story was unsurprisingly the winner among the two with both readers and the editors praising her signature heart-throbbing writing style she is known for. Dangerfield’s story wasn’t far behind, losing only by a margin of twelve percent. It was particularly praised for its gritty portrayal of the modern world with many readers of the opinion that it was a breath of fresh air for the romance genre. Editors of the magazine again reached out to both authors for a response upon the results of the first round of stories.

First came the victor, Goldenlime: “Is anyone actually surprised? I mean come on, look at who you’re talking to. He never stood a chance! The little man is out of his depth now he’s up against a real writer such as me. His smoke-and-mirror style of writing doesn’t compare to carefully weaving the reader through the nuances of your work, ensuring that they appreciate all the intricate little details you’ve crafted, not leave it up for interpretation!” Upon this, Goldenlime refused to speak any further on the matter.

Dangerfield, on losing, had this to say: “I guess the heart wants what it’s fond of. Years of being spoon-fed the same old clichés by a hack writer such as Goldenlime must’ve poisoned all your minds. The sad thing is that she used to be great, now she’ll only be remembered for cash-grab tales pandering to common-folk. She may have won in romance, but I seriously doubt she could write about anything else anymore. I aim to prove that in the science-fiction genre.”

Things are heating up and tension is at an all-time high. More and more people are following these authors to see their bitter rivalry grow. They are each basking in the limelight of the unfolding drama, a showdown for the ages. The final test of their skill will be waged within the contest’s final genre: Crime.

Crime

The genre of crime is designed for the guiltiest of guilty pleasures. If handled with care it can encompass elements of drama, suspense, and mystery to brilliant effect. Especially appealing as it allows an audience to experience the depravity of humankind in safety, igniting a decadent spark of rebellion or a cry for justice in the reader. Detective noir, true crime, and crime thriller are among some of the most prevalent literary genres in western culture, and in the hands of a master, among the most immersive.

The Goldenlime Estate

The atmosphere was frantic at the Goldenlime Estate. The noise of Goldenlime’s furious typing, the metallic return clink of her typewriter (she was rather old-fashioned in this regard), and subsequent paper crinkle of discarded drafts filled her study room along with the entire west wing of the house.

Amidst this hustle-and-bustle were the pitter-pattering heels of her assistant, who pranced back-and-forth from the main library to retrieve classic works of crime literature and references for use in the next story. Ever since learning the final topic Goldenlime had lived in her study. Her temper was most foul during this time and she was quick to anger, much to the dismay of the house servants. The poor soul who bore the brunt of her fury, however, was her young assistant who had remained by her side despite her frequent tantrums.

Staring at a blank page, Goldenlime’s mind raced. She was sour about only winning her romance entry by twelve percent and seeds of doubt were sprouting in her mind about the succession of her sci-fi story. The past few years were some of her best in terms of popularity and sales. Her lustre series was a surprise hit, vastly outperforming any work she’d done previously. She quickly poured all her time into working solely on it to keep up momentum, and as such, a certain fatigue had been forming in her writing style. On more than one occasion, (although she’d never publicly admit it) she had grown tired of lustre, grown tired of romance, grown tired of the contrived story arcs, of the infidelity and romantic redemption, and worst of all, of her sleazy dialogue. What at first made her cringe and sometimes laugh she now wrote without a second thought, in all seriousness.

Dangerfield’s jabs had gotten to her, a bitter taste crossed her lips at the very thought of him. She was mortified beyond belief at his comments on her being unable to write anything other than pandering romance; however, she was determined to prove, not only to herself but to everyone, that she still retained the literary prowess she held during those first few years of her career, that she was still able to cover a wide range of genres with ease and remain proficient in each. But what if he’s right?

“I’ve read some of the current story’s draft,” Goldenlime’s assistant snaps her out of contemplation. “It’s err… rather violent, not much like anything I’ve seen from you before.”

“So what?” hissed Goldenlime. “Is there a problem with how I’m writing it? Or better yet, how would you like it written?” She glared back with dagger-like eyes, conveying nothing but contempt towards her assistant.

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any offense,” she replied with a look of hurt, “I was just wondering if you’re ok, you’ve not been yourself lately. You should take a break for a while and come back when feeling refreshed.”

Goldenlime’s fury boiled over, “Do not patronize me child! You are here to run my errands, nothing more. If I want your thoughts or advice on anything, I’ll let you know; otherwise, you shut your mouth and do what you’re told!”

“I’ve had enough of this!” her assistant roared back. “For weeks now you’ve treated me like absolute dirt, Ophelia! No more!” she marched towards the door before turning back to Goldenlime, “I’ve been nothing but supportive of you for as long as I can remember, and I certainly don’t deserve this. To hell with you and your stories!”

Immediately, a sharp prick stung Goldenlime’s conscience. She wanted desperately to follow after her assistant and apologize; to explain the inner turmoil she was facing and find a way to make up for the weeks of maltreatment. But she was frozen in her chair; stubbornness had gotten the better of her and she heard the front door slam moments later. Goldenlime was left alone in her study to stew in anger and regret.

Dangerfield’s Apartment

“What on Earth were you thinking with that statement against Goldenlime!?” Dangerfield’s agent, Alice, sits on the other end of his kitchen table, one hand on her forehead, the other gripping a cup of coffee, “Are you trying to antagonize her?”

“I’m only shaking things up a little,” said Dangerfield unconcernedly. “Besides, she’s a hoity-toity established writer, she’s used to the odd bit of slandering here-and-there.” He couldn’t help but crack a silly smile.

“It was childish Max. I don’t know what mind-games you are trying to play with her, but it won’t reflect well on you or the agency in any case. Do you know how many times I’ve had to reiterate that the agency doesn’t condone your response today alone? You will stop this nonsense and focus on your writing.” Alice was never one to shy away from sternness, she would have made a great headteacher.

“What are you, my mother? Geeze. Listen, everything will be fine, you just keep doing your agent thing and I’ll work my magic like always.”

With a short sigh Alice starts, “Max, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but… some of our stakeholders at the agency feel that you’re no longer a fit for the company. They’re thinking about cutting you loose.”

Dangerfield scoffed at the very thought, “I’m not worried about that; they’ve tried it before and it’s never worked out, they’ll remind themselves of the sales figures and change their tune. After all, I’ve got you to argue my case, right?”

“It’s out of my hands Max,” her tone was equally genuine and sullen, “they’re adamant about it this time, regardless of how much you sell. They were against you doing this contest from the start and I’m afraid they won’t put up with any more theatrics. They are afraid for their reputation; you know how it is these days.”

“So, what, they’re just going to drop me?” an inkling of worry manifested in his brain.

“Nothing is set in stone at the moment, I shouldn’t have said anything, but I figured I’d give you a heads up.” She rose from the kitchen table and put her coat on. “Look, focus on your story, stay out of trouble, and for God’s sake leave Goldenlime alone. We’ll figure out the rest after this vanity contest is over. Thanks for the coffee. I’ve got to run but remember what I said.”

Dangerfield saw her to the door and waved goodbye. He was silent as he brewed some more coffee, he felt as if a lead weight had been crudely dropped onto his chest. He was never one for letting pressure get to him, despite many close calls with deadlines over the years, but this time was different. This time he was unsure how it would all pan out.

Desperately pushing these thoughts from his mind, he made his way to the small but cozy study/living room of his apartment. Drawing the curtains closed, he noted that the place was in a tizzy as he had forgotten to tidy up in recent days. Rolling his eyes at the prospect of cleaning up his own mess, he shuffled through some papers left on an office chair. There were gas bills, cologne advertisements, and letters from estranged family members stacked together which he dispassionately threw to the side before taking a seat in the chair. Setting his coffee down on his writing desk Dangerfield exhaled a long, drawn-out breath, and for the first time in a long time, he couldn’t think of anything to write.

Month Two Results: Science-Fiction

The results of the authors’ submitted science-fiction stories have transcended the neurological brain cases of the editors, been phase-shifted to the right frequencies, and were promptly beamed along photon streams to reach the ocular receptors of readers.

Goldenlime’s alien sci-fi romance was heavily chastised due to it being too similar to her previous month’s romance story, with many readers of the opinion that it was a blatant rehash altogether. The more intimate portions came off as cringeworthy at best and a pervading sense of low effort was present throughout the story. Both the readers and editors felt that it was uninspired and very out-of-character for a renowned writer such as Goldenlime, even some of her long-time fans had commented saying that it was ‘remarkably contrived’.

Goldenlime’s story was largely forgotten in the place of Dangerfield’s action-packed sci-fi epic. It was hailed as an interstellar page-turner filled with iconic scenes accentuated by his eccentric attention to detail. The story managed to take readers out-of-this-world with its cosmic scenery and well-crafted lore and had utilized a clever mix of thrills and character for immersion. It was a landslide victory for Dangerfield this time around.

Upon learning of his victory, Dangerfield immediately reached out to the magazine himself to get his response in. “I’m not surprised! What did you people expect in anyways? I’m Max goddamn Dangerfield! Thanks to the readers and editors and all that good stuff, and thanks to Goldenlime for remaining as predictable as ever! Seriously did you see what she submitted? Garbage! The next round will be a piece of cake.”

When asked for a statement on the midway results of the competition Goldenlime refused to comment but reassured the magazine that she was working hard on her final story.

Final Submission

Ophelia

Goldenlime and crime were not well-suited partners. She had drafted a lengthy story filled with violence in which the protagonist, an overconfident conman, is repeatedly abducted and tortured by a vigilante whom he had wronged in the past, with each subsequent act of torture being increasingly more graphic than the last.

There were obvious parallels between the main character and Dangerfield. This character was portrayed as an arrogant ‘know-it-all’, often with little actual knowledge on what he is talking about. It was clear that she did not intend for the reader to sympathize with him, instead more emphasis was placed on the villain – a previous victim to one of his cons who gets revenge on him over and over again. This perspicacious, well-spoken villain was an obvious reflection of how Goldenlime saw herself compared to Dangerfield.

The story had none of the artistic nuance she once held as a writer and was quite repetitive in its structure; the main character would get captured, a lengthy, pretentious monologue would occur where he would be shown the error of his ways, and he would be horribly beaten. The foolhardy conman would never learn his lesson and talk himself into this trouble repeatedly. There was also a significant drop in writing quality. Dialogue and narration throughout came off as petulant, making the entire thing seem like an obnoxious rant on her behalf towards Dangerfield’s attitude and lack of etiquette in their back-and-forth tit-for-tat.

Goldenlime sent all her servants home early on the day of submission, overcome with a wave of relief on finally reaching the end of the three-month gauntlet. In a state of deep contemplation, she roamed the vast grounds of her estate, reflecting on how juvenile the experience had been and most of all, how cruelly she had treated her poor assistant. Perhaps from a gnawing guilt or from the loneliness imparted by the empty spaces, she resolved to setup in the study for the afternoon and pen a heartfelt apology to the girl, nothing else mattered to her at this point.

Max

Dangerfield was in a slump. Not long after his sci-fi victory gloat, his agency dropped him, the official reason being a ‘conflict of interest’. He tried to laugh it off at first, he was after all, a bestselling author. Surely, he did not need an agency to promote his material, secure his interviews, provide localization work, graphic and design work, editing, and rights management.

He worked on his final story in short bursts, unable to focus on anything other than a letter he had received cementing his termination from the agency. They had removed his catalogue of work from their label meaning he would have to rebrand and republish most of his previous works with some novels and series being irreversibly lost due to him signing away ownership rights early in his career.

Try as he might to push these thoughts away, they always came crawling back to him, clouding his mind and taking focus away from writing his crime story. “Fifteen goddamn years gone down the drain,” he would repeat to himself while stressing and worrying about how he was going to solve this problem. He had gotten into a routine of spending an hour or two working on the story, getting frustrated and abandoning it, reconciling a day or two later, going back to it and scrapping what he previously wrote to start over again, rinse and repeat.

He continued in this unproductive cycle for about a month and when the final day for submission came around, he had nothing to show for it.

Final Month Results: Crime

In the weeks that followed, COLLABATUR’s popularity was at an all-time high. Many works that were usually featured from various independent authors were now diminished to footnotes in favour of articles and coverage on the careers of Dangerfield and Goldenlime, prying into their personal lives in a not-so-discreet manner. Neither author contested it in hopes to remain in the favour of the editors, the prize of exclusivity was much too enticing to let a bit of personal privacy get in the way.

The editors of the magazine were in quite the predicament however, they had not received a crime story from Dangerfield, and they flat-out rejected to publish Goldenlime’s. With the weight of expectations from eager fans and critics alike the pressure was beginning to build. The marketing department were brainstorming ideas on how to manage the situation and had come up with a variety of proposed solutions such as forging two final stories, extending the submission date another month, and cancelling the competition altogether. None of these solutions proved feasible. Goldenlime was no longer interested in contributing and Dangerfield wasn’t returning their phone calls or emails.

They ultimately decided to slightly embellish the facts and quickly move on, concluding the contest with a two-page readout comprised mostly of filler on the previous months’ stories mixed in with past achievements of both authors throughout their careers. An anticlimactic brief revealed the results that read:

Due to various production problems and concerns of intellectual property rights on behalf of authors Goldenlime and Dangerfield, the editors here at COLLABATUR have decided to privately review and grade the final stories submitted. We have concluded that the result is a draw. We thank all who have participated in the contest, and we hope to see you in our next issue where we divulge our secret recipe for our Yuletide eggnog and take a look at our best winter reads this holiday season!

END

Afterword

In The Writer’s Hook, two world-renowned authors are pitted against one another in a simple contest of pride. The prize: to be crowned better than the other.

In the beginning I wanted to focus on the authors themselves and came up with an idea of having two clashing personalities in Ophelia Goldenlime and Max Dangerfield.

The character of Goldenlime was designed on a classical, learned writer archetype from a wealthy and pompous background. I introduced the notion that she has fallen into a loop of solely working on her successful romance series late into the story, this allowed me to build tension and raise the stakes for the competition’s last story.

Dangerfield on the other hand is a more modernist, bohemian archetype. He is more erratic and cares more about subject than style. There is a higher focus on his personal life and public reception, highlighted through an obsessive and hyperbolic management of public perception with prepared speeches and PR strategies from his agent. One of his bestselling novels ‘Stomach Foot’ about killer snails is named after the literal meaning of gastropod, which is the animal class snails and slugs belong to.

The name chosen for the magazine ‘COLLABATUR’ is simply Latin for: crumpled or tumble down (according to Google Translate), my cheeky way of subliminally hinting at the core concept of the story within the text (the idea that both writers suffer a blow to their reputation and work by the end).

Over time I chose to focus more on the competition aspect and a growing drama between the authors and in their personal lives. I had known that by the end of the story my objective was to show that even the most experienced and established of authors/artists can succumb to the pressures of renown, be exploited by ‘big media’, and devolve into pettiness.

This version of the story is a complete overhaul of the original I wrote (and one of the first stories I ever wrote) back in 2021. I remember the structure being unconventional for me as I was telling one story through three perspectives, that of the magazine editors, Goldenlime, and Dangerfield, while also having the overarching narration.

I combed through the story, fixing (many!) grammatical and tense shifting issues I had made at the time while improving some phrasing and vocabulary throughout. I cut out a large amount of excessive description in setting up the parameters of the writing competition and a page of rhetoric I had at the beginning that explored the question of what makes a writer great. That opening, combined with going straight into a long-winded setup of the competition, encumbered the pacing and overall didn’t add anything memorable to the story.

Bonus to the literary snobs who noticed I used “penultimate in publishing…” in the opening.

I also spent some time rewriting the characters themselves. Originally Goldenlime was unapologetically snide to her assistant which contrasted with the personal relationship that exists between them. I modified this to better reflect the sense of pressure the competition put on her and added a touch of reconciliation near the end – while yes, she is egotistical, she is not heartless.

Dangerfield remains largely the same, however, I added emphasis to his slovenliness and the ambiguity of his ending.

In Dangerfield’s first submission interview he exclaims “I see you all out there trying your hardest not to be ugly, trying your best not to fit in.” He parodies a hyperbolic speech by Marilyn Manson delivered at the 1997 MTV Music Video Awards:

“My fellow Americans, I see you all sitting out there, trying your hardest not to be ugly, trying your hardest not to fit in, trying your hardest to earn your way into Heaven,” etc.