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Well, for a couple-few days, anyhow.So, I’ve been thinking. I’m going to be gone for like, ten days. In blog-o-land, that’s a long time. It’s a goddamn eternity. Websites rise and fall, live and die, in that time. It’s a glacial epoch in terms of the Internuts.
Now, ideally, I’m still going to be tossing updates up every day, though they’ll be fairly concise. Originally I figured I’d go ahead and work up a furious slate of blog posts to set to auto-schedule whilst I’m Utah-bound. The reality is, I’m a leetle-teensy-weensy tiny-winy bit busy, though. I’m only level 41 in Modern Warfare 2. I haven’t yet played all the origins in Dragon Age: Origins. I’ve only flicked the tip of the porn iceberg — I’ve got so much more porn to see.
See? Busy-busy, said the bee.
Oh, and something about writing, blah blah blah.
Whatever with that nonsense.
Point is, I need some help from you people.
Here’s the deal.
I need ten blog posts. And you’re going to write them.
How’s this going to work? Throw your name into the hat. Right now. Go. Do it. See those comments down there? Write one. Tell me, “Hey, dickbat, I want to write a blog post for this dumb website. Even if I crap it up, it’ll still be better than the septic, fetid swamp gas you exhale here every day.” You can actually do this one of two ways: you can tell me the topic on which you plan to write, or, you can accept a topic from me. I’ll give you your subject, and you’ll suck it up and like it.
Now, Lawd-a-mercy knows I might not actually get ten of you interested.
To which I say: “Cowards.”
Wipe the particulate matter out of your vaginas. Stop your squalling. I’m handing you the keys to the crazy house. Why wouldn’t you want that? Are you insane and brain-damaged at the same time? Jump in here! Get in the mud. Cover yourself in the blood and feces of your foes and together we shall conquer the Blog Nations and their subterranean tribes!
What happens if I get more than ten?
Well, then Daddy’s got to pick his favorite children.
This process will be arcane and inscrutable. I may pick randomly. I may use the Zodiac signs or the positions of the moles on celebrity faces to determine the outcome. I may ask that you fight with broken bottles. Who knows? You might say, “Buh-buh-but Chuck, I thought we were friends! Remember those long nights spent at that Cambodian rub-n-tug? When we bonded over acai berry smoothies? And we watched a marathon of Gray’s Anatomy?” And I’d say in return, “No, I don’t know you, please leave my house, and while you’re at it, return to me my DVDs of Gray’s Anatomy.” And you’ll further whine, “Why did you give all ten days to Eddy Webb?” and I’ll be like, “Because he looks good in them jeans. Mmmmmm.” And then I’ll rub my crotch lasciviously, and Eddy will scream through his gag. [EDIT: YES HOLY CRAP IT'S GREY'S ANATOMY, I KNOW.]
Now, the final thing is, you may wonder — “Well, what the hell do I get out of this?”
Nothing!
Ha ha ha ha!
Nothing at all!
Boo hoo ha ha ha! Bwa!
Ahem.
Okay, fine. I’ll offer you something.
If you write a blog post for me, I’ll write one for you at your site. (Provided you have one, of course.)
As Hannibal Lecter might say, “Quid pro quo, Clarice.”
And yes, I just called you “Clarice.”
So, them’s the deal. What do I want to see? Again, you tell me, or I’ll tell you. I’m a harsh mistress, so quality is important — but further, know that if you hand me something full of errors, I’m posting it with those errors intact, and then I’ll mock you openly. As for a word count, well — I’d say 500 word minimum and a 1500 word maximum. No hard or fast rules there, though. Awesome is awesome, regardless of length.
So, gauntlet’s thrown down, pals and chicas, cats and kittens, dude monkeys and lady monkeys, squids and squallops.
You up for the challenge?
Don’t let me hear crickets.
Don’t make me mock you for being cowards.
Don’t make me.
[EDIT: Oh, and realize that I'll need the finished product by next Thursday morning, as I'm gone not long after. Further, I'll go ahead and pick the blog peeps in tomorrow's post.]
About The Author
ChuckWendig
Chuck Wendig is equal parts novelist, screenwriter, and game designer. He is the author of the novels DOUBLE DEAD, BLACKBIRDS, and MOCKINGBIRD. In addition, he's got a metric boatload of writing-related e-books available, including the popular 500 WAYS TO BE A BETTER WRITER. He currently lives in the wilds of Pennsyltucky with wife, dog, and newborn progeny.
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68 Responses and Counting...
I know you may revolt against The King’s English, but I am fairly sure it is “Grey’s Anatomy”. I don’t know this because I watch it. My wife does.
Shut up.
I accept your gauntlet. As I’ve had three hours of sleep, the only topics that are coming to mind for me are “Guns ‘n’ Roses of the mid-’90s” and “Transformers vs Bakugan: Why Modern Cartoons Suck”. I don’t know if either would be good for the Divine Throne that is Terrbileminds, so you might want to toss me a topic.
Well played, Magic Talking Beardhead. User-generated content indeed.
Excellent. It is early, and we have one entrant into the ring already!
Come one, come all!
WELCOME TO THUNDERDOME.
– c.
Actually, I was waiting for this. It was all planned in advance, and you fell for my trap foolish mortal. Operation: Bathtub has commenced!
You shall rue this day!
Well, go ahead. Start rueing. I’ve got time.
I’m all over this shit, you kidding me? Give me a topic and I’ll run with it.
I will do my best to honor you with an inclusion of the word “cock gobbler” if at all relevant.
Hmm… I could probably write something. Any requests?
No requests. Not until Names Are Chosen, methinks!
Okay, so we’ve got three in the pool. Any other takers?
*shakes the grass*
– c.
I might regret this but… I volunteer to write anything cooking-related you might be interested in that I know something about. I’ve given you an area… if you decide you want a post from me, just give me a topic in that area. I leave that part up to you just because I’m curious as hell what you’d pick and what I’d be able to do with it.
I’ll jump on the grenade. Like you said…it may be shit and people may run, vomiting and convulsing, to the bathroom after reading it. Dammit…that actually sounds EXACTLY what I’d be aiming for anyway. What do you thin, sirs?
Heather:
Cooking-related. Got it!
– c.
Or book reviewing. If you think there’s something useful a book reviewer could say to the folks who come here for writing tips, I could do that instead.
Five takers, and it’s not even 10AM.
Know this, peeps: If we get about 10 takers, I will have to pick and choose. Or let randomness take hold. Or let the Old Ones decide.
– c.
Chuck, it looks like you are going to have a landslide of offers here. You might have to make this an annual thing.
You are a smart man, Ricky-Tock Ricky-Rock.
– c.
Old-Ones decision making. Does it involve dice, or just tentacles? Either way, could be interesting…
It involves sacrifices to the Deep Ones!
– c.
Hmmm… I’d be curious to step into the TerribleMinds frame of, um, mind, so I’ll throw my hat in the ring. If chosen, I’ll take Chuck’s Pick for $800.
*tosses his name in the ring*
But I’ll let you pick the topic. More fun that way.
OOoooh, it builds.
Just in case me posting here might lead you to the wrong impression: I’m not volunteering. Hell no. I don’t want anything to do with this festering pile of feculence. (Mostly because I’m lazy.) Not if you gave me cookies. Or bacon. Or even bacon-flavored cookies.
However, I’d always wondered how bloggers of a certain magnitude cadged up guest posts during absences. Now I know, and knowing’s half the battle!
I shall wait with baited breath to see the results of the bloodbath twixt the members of the Army o’ Chuck, to find out who is right and who is dead.
Can a sweet little girl-next-door like me volunteer, too? I like bacon.
I’ll take a crack at it. I’m thinking a writing article about cliches, archetypes, and other Jungian shit. Godzilla bukkake is in there somewhere, too.
And the craziness piles up!
I can tell my most disgustingest story ever and what it taught me about life. It’s really disgusting. Toe-curling, puke-up-in-your-breakfast disgusting.
I’m in, Chuck. And, if you pick me, I want you to give me a topic that you’ve tried to write but just couldn’t make work, something you just plain don’t want to write, something you’re _scared_ to write.
Amy:
Ohh, man, you are really whetting my appetite.
Justin:
Also, a challenge back to me. Touche, sir. Well-played.
Selling me on your Future Blog Post is awesome, everybody.
Yeah.
Also: sending me money.
Mmm. Money.
Or cookies!
– c.
…
I knew I should have trademarked “Army o’ Chuck” before I said it anywhere near where she could hear it.
AOC, attack!
…
Ahem. We’re up to 10 entrants, if my piss-poor counting skills have not failed me.
This is very exciting.
– c.
Ah, crap. I’m late to the party, aren’t I?
Nope — you can still hop on in. Be #11! I’ll winnow the list down when the time comes. I have a camping hatchet. It goes chop, chop.
– c.
In that case, Magic Writing Beardman, give me a topic.
You’re in the pool. If Magic Beard Selection Process chooses you, Pikachu, then you’ll have your topic.
– c.
I’ll write one, but you can fuck yourself in the ear if you think I’m going to (a) let you dictate the topic or (b) tell you what it is in advance of turning it in.
Your call. Don’t be a coward.
Oh, man. Jeff throws down his own gauntlet, too.
All right. I accept that from him.
Nobody else get cocky, now.
Or I’ll let out the lemurs.
– c.
I’ll toss in my chapeau if you assign a topic and a word count.
Simply because I like assigned topics.
And FYI- the cuss-o-meter informed me the other day that my 47% of the posts on my blog contain foul language. I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem here. For some reason.
I want a cuss-o-meter.
– c.
Well shit, I assume by the fuckton of comments that I’m late?
Too bad, I would have done an AWESOME job…but I guess you’ll never know unless you let me be #11!
John — No no, you’re missing the point, we already have like, 13+ people. I can only pick 10. Keep on racking up the “hats in the ring.” Throw your name in there. We’ll see if the Sorting Hat sorts it out.
– c.
… Now you’ve gone and aggravated my Harry Potter fangirl. She’s currently in cat ears and a belled collar, raving and squeeing in your general direction.
A better analogy would have been the Goblet of Fire, since it’s that object that chooses a limited number of names from a supplied variety. KNOW YOUR ANALOGIES, CHUCK.
I retract my previous statement. Add me in; I’ve been a paid editor in my time. Maybe there’s more wisdom in my head than has been imparted by the McSteamy drama and Blue’s Clues.
Ooo, getting thrown in the Sorting Hat AND forcing Chuck to give me a topic this making him work anyway. I like it. Don’t know if I can live up to the cuss meter though. (Huh wonder if they might come up with a filter for blogs like they do for online games where cuss words come out **** or get deleted. But the Chuck’s word count would go to shit.)
(Just teasing!) (Oh lordy, why am I doing this???) Come one people! More hats in the ring so I won’t win! Save me! lol
Ha ha! I think I love you, Maggie. And if you really want to dig into Chuck, use the phrase “YOU STAND CORRECTED, SIR!”
It’s been my favorite phrase of the new year so far.
Chuck – Yes! Put me in for consideration.
So far, I’ve had to call none of you “cowards.”
Except you silly people hiding in your anonymity.
COWARDS.
Everybody else: high-five! Take any of my mutilated Harry Potter metaphors and use them to your heart asplodes.
– c.
I’m your huckleberry.
So, I think you have a few options Magic Talking Beardhead.
I say we don’t give him the keys to the place back. And even if we do, we should completely trash it. Leave toilet paper all over his Flickr, empty beer bottles stashed around “Who Is This Chuck Guy?” and maybe even do some burnouts in “Painting With Shotguns”.
Hey, dickbat, I want to write a blog post for this dumb website. Even if I crap it up, it’ll still be better than the septic, fetid swamp gas you exhale here every day.
So there.
Topic – Knowing stuff: How reading more helps you write more.
What you poor bastards will learn is that I’ve already shitted this place up real good. It’s just sticky and humid with my remnants. Not like I’m giving you the keys to the Ferrari, here. I’m basically handing you the keys to the Port-a-Potty.
And by the way, well done, all over you. Looks like 20-ish entrants, and it’s just past noon.
You fools!
– c.
I’m a coward. I wanted to put my name down when I first saw this, then I remembered I can’t write for shit. And I couldn’t think of any topics to suggest and the thought of being assigned one was far to scary.
But then my fiance linked me to it and said “DO IT!” And I have to live with hir. So I said I would.
So, go on then. Choose me at your own peril. Hand me a topic and get me writing again. It probably won’t kill me, after all…
Maybe we’ll surprise the shit out of you and leave it Pinesol-fresh and sparkling like a Meyer vampire at full noon. What would you think of that, huh?
Maggie:
The only way you can clean this place is by burning it.
– c.
Adele:
Your name’s in the hat! Traverse these waters with caution! These… hat waters! Mixed metaphor! Loud noises!
– c.
What the hell. I’ll stop lurking around the shadows and throw my name in as well.
Fresh meat!
*rings the bell*
– c.
Toss my name in the hat, sure. Then light the hat on fire, and sift the ashes. My name will still be there, spelled in the ruin and destruction of its enemies.
And I’ll take any topic that you can throw at me. Though I’m partial to the Nondestruction of the English Language Through Electronic Media. But seriously. I’ll take what you can heave at me. So heave! Heave like the wind!
Besides, if I didn’t at least try, several of my students would fire rayguns at me. Seriously. They have a special class for it now, Introduction to Raygun Design 101. It’s part of a new BS degree we offer in HyperScience & Misc. Jiggery-Pokery.
I demand you choose the writers in some over the top, outlandish fashion. Perhaps by coating pieces of bread with our names written on it in bacon grease and having the taco terrier choose which people are eliminated by which ones they eat first?
Confession: I was staring at your Dawg filter again and have decided I want a Chi-Fox.
Man, the things that my Google Reader brings to me.
Google: “Hey, someone’s talking about Eddy Webb.”
Me: “Oh, okay, let’s click on the link.”
Oh, and I’ll take a post or two, but someone better give me a topic. Or I’m writing about Chuck’s ball sack.
My sack is a viable topic.
Holy fucking shit. Damn, tucker.
I’ll toss my hat in. I don’t have a topic yet, I’d take one (like a vandal!,) but I’ll be number 3,946 or whatever, in the running.
You’re scrapping in in Thunderdome, David. Many peeps enter, ten peeps leave.
This is a cautious and hesitant tossing in of the hat.
Ladies and germs — THE DEMBSKI-BOWDEN.
*roar of the crowd*
For the record, the “Dembski-Bowden” is also a sexual move patented by a handful of New Zealanders. It involves a shorn alpaca.
– c.
ok *cautiously steps into Thunderdome*…I’m in as well. Time to step forward and away from my voyeuristic tendencies and plunge in to the action. I am not a coward.
The Dembski-Bowden sounds too painful to try! And yay, he made contact with the outside world!
There is no caution in the Thunderdome! There is only pants-shitting violence! And car bumpers used as bludgeoning devices!
– c.
Ah, I might as well toss my name in to the ring as well. Law of probability says I shouldn’t be chosen. Just to make things interesting, you can choose the topic.
64 responses?! I guess you have your 10, then?
Hell, I’d write something. You need to pick me as one just for the wild card factor.
The 13 Madman have been chosen.
http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2010/01/09/the-thirteen-madmen-have-been-chosen/
Drat came too late!
Would have written “7-10 Things you don’t know about Chuck.”
Alas, one must be ever-present in the blink-speed arena of the internet.
Have a fine trip, sir.
K