Local writers win bad-prose prizes

It was a dark and stormy night.

At least it was when a trio of Northwest writers sat in front of their computers to channel the Prophet of Purple Prose, Edward George Earl Bulwer-Lytton, who penned that overwrought opening line more than a century ago.

David McKenzie, of Federal Way, turned out a quirky parody of a bad opening line for a Western novel that earned him first place in the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest's Western Division.

Started 26 years ago by San Jose State University professor Scott Rice to parody bad opening lines of novels, the contest is named for Bulwer-Lytton, the author whose overdone opening to his 1830 novel "Paul Clifford" has come to epitomize cliché-plagued prose.

While the overall winner gets $250, winners in the other categories simply get the honor — such as it is — of being chosen. Nevertheless, the contest draws thousands of bad sentences every year via e-mail, Rice said. It's proven so popular that Rice has divided the contest into categories.

McKenzie came up with this bad opener to what would almost certainly be a worse Western:

"Nobody knew just who the steely-eyed stranger was, where he came from, where he was headed, or what his intentions were while he was in Dodge City," wrote McKenzie, 54, an aerospace quality consultant. "He wasn't an hombre you'd want to stick your tongue out at or flip off, and any man who tried to tickle him would be asking for a long stay in a pine box."

The absurd juxtaposition of the Western tough guy being challenged by child's play — tickling and sticking out your tongue — made this one a winning entry, Rice said.

Mark Murata, of Kirkland, cooked up an opening line that would make him runner-up in the science-fiction division:

"Lightning flashed from the blue-black sky of this alien world and shattered the engines of the spaceship, destroying Reninger's last chance of escaping and reminding him of the time his sister returned from New York with the tips of her hair dyed blue, except for the part about the lightning and the spaceship," wrote Murata, 47, who works for a medical-call-service center.

And Bruce Portzer, of Seattle, received a "dishonorable mention" for his freight-train-love entry in the romance division:

"Carmen's romance with Broderick had thus far been like a train ride, not the kind that slowly leaves the station, builds momentum, and then races across the countryside at breathtaking speed, but rather the one that spends all day moving freight cars around at the local steel mill."

Writing parody takes talent and skill, Rice said. You have to know what's wrong with opening sentences commonly used in a particular genre before you can imitate them.

"Somebody said it's like imitating a drunk on roller skates. We have good writers pretending to be bad writers, and we get bad writers pretending to be good writers pretending to be bad writers," Rice said.

This year's overall winner was Garrison Spik, a 41-year-old Washington, D.C., communications specialist, who credits B-horror films with inspiring his winning entry:

"Theirs was a New York love, a checkered taxi ride burning rubber, and like the city their passion was open 24/7, steam rising from their bodies like slick streets exhaling warm, moist, white breath through manhole covers stamped 'Forged by DeLaney Bros., Piscataway, N.J.' "

"We get all kinds of entries," Rice said. "Some are clever and insightful, and some bad by any standard."

Nancy Bartley: 206-464-8522 or nbartley@seattletimes.com