I’m no longer going to explain the history behind my friend Aborigen‘s contest because it’s rather easy to learn if you poke around long enough. All tiny people need to know is that the contest series exists, and this is its second year running. Last year I entered the #CruelJan17 contest and had a very difficult time wrapping my head around writing a Cruel story. I was pushing my boundaries as a storyteller, and it transformed me. That came as no surprise, since forcing the brain to do something new generates change (I wish that change involved a literal height increase, but you and I know this Universe is appallingly malevolent when it comes to making my Size wishes come true).
I didn’t experience the same thing this year. I had many ideas for my stories and was only able to work on a few, but it happened effortlessly, and I actually enjoyed the process. That change pleases me, as it’s exactly what I wanted to accomplish last year. I did have a great deal of difficulty with one story I didn’t complete. I’ll explain why when I post it here in a few days. It will be password protected as some of my entries are now, so if you like to read it, contact me and I’ll make sure you get the password. If you want to steer clear of my naughtier content, your wisdom is to be commended and your logic is impeccable. Though I will make note of your location for future destruction, as it appears to be a hotbed of subversion and entropy, a wretched hive of scum and villainy, etc.
Something else I did was offer readers the chance to win some “prizes”. It’s mostly just for fun, and I have yet to get around to delivering rewards to people that guessed correctly the #ButtyJuly17 stories that were mine. I haven’t even posted those! I’m running behind. As always, whoever guesses which story (or stories) is mine wins a drawing of their choice, to be delivered sometime in 2020.
Remember this thing? It’s time to woman up again, whether or not I want to or feel ready. I don’t want to and I don’t feel ready, but I’m going to participate anyway. I don’t read Cruel stories and I don’t like to write them, but ideas are in my head, so I’ll enter them… if I complete them. I failed to do so during Unaware October, and I’m not being too hard on myself about it, but I’ve reached a point as a writer where I have an obscene amount of incomplete stories, and notes on stories about which I’ve done nothing. If I insist upon calling myself a writer, I reckon I better write.
If anything can put me in a Cruel mood, it’s probably being welcomed back into the contest while being addressed as a “fun-sized snack”. Feeling I’m the tallest woman in the universes and reading that I’m nothing but a between-meal nibble conjures up the very essence of cognitive dissonance. I’m sure I’ll channel that into the whirling vortex of emotions now coursing through my heart, so as to produce something truly despicable.
Anyone that wants to compete still has the whole last third of December to do so, and will be in very good company: https://sites.google.com/view/crueljan18. If you’re a writer of Cruel stories, you’ll be in your element and challenged to present it viably in two thousand words. If you write Gentle stories, you can try something new, and see if you can redefine the genre and yourself. If you’ve never written anything before, you can start with a story for this contest.
As for me, I’m going to do what I always do; I’m going to type up the stories already in my head even if they defy conventional size cruelty, or even if they align perfectly with what’s out there. It will be difficult, bitter, heart-wrenching, and exhausting. But hey, that’s a Wednesday in Size world… what else is new.
I’ve had this idea for years. I contemplated it, and never did anything about it, until now. Back then, because I used to go to boards and talk to a lot of people, I got to know a few of them a bit, and as it turns out, nearly every one of them had some musical ability. When I published the collage above, I received a file composed by a blog reader, inspired by it… so the idea of songs inspired by size differences is not at all outlandish, and it’s certainly something a few of us have thought about, and done more than just think about.
I’m just going to sit here quietly, and while I wait for songs you write about giantesses, or tiny men, or gigantic/tiny feet, or micro-robots, or foxes the size of the solar system, to come my way, I’ll mess around with Garage Band, and see what I can come up with. I can sing my own songs, but when the time comes, I might get someone at fiverr® to do my singing for me. Everyone in my family knows my voice. Or I could just use Audacity to alter my pitch… oh this cracks me up!
…does not exist. I wish it did. Tonight I was out where there was a TV, and when this commercial came on, for a tiniest moment I felt a flutter of hope in my heart that the large figure on the floor of a grocery store would be a giant woman. Instead a sad giant took her rightful place. Oh, well. 🙂
I bemoan these misguided commercials in good cheer. I’ve known since the beginning of my exploration of media as a source of material to enjoy, that it would offer very little in the way of a perfect scenario. And let’s be frank, a flawless commercialization of just about any product would involve devastatingly handsome shrunken men doing things that don’t render them ridiculous.
While watching the commercial I also though that any position in the service industry is what I’ve always fantasized about when I try to picture what my job would be if I was at least a mini giantess. But I think my favorite occupation is still that of a professional Building Washer, or a Tree Puller. I’d do such a good job!