Writing Battle

My experience with the Writing Battle - TLDR; do it!

Recently, I came across an ad for Writing Battle. It seemed like a pretty fun thing to do, so I signed up. Writing Battle is an online writing competition where writers are randomly assigned things such as setting, characters, and objects, and then need to write a full-on story in 500 to 1000 words.

I signed up with a good friend of mine, and even though he wasn’t able to complete the Battle, I still had a great experience. I’ll post my story at the end of this, for you to read, but I wanted to share my experiences first.

Writing Battle’s big selling feature is to write something and receive feedback from other writers. I took a course this past fall which focused on exactly this, actionable feedback, and I found it to be extremely helpful. So, maybe Writing Battle could replicate that. Also, if I did win, I’d be grabbing a few thousand dollars.

I paid my negligible entry fee, and received the ‘cards’ that outlined what I had to write.

I got: “Aliens!” as the setting, “Socialite” as the character type, and “Nest” as the object that I had to include.

I haven’t written much where there were clear and delineated parameters like this, so it was pretty fun. I was happy with my story although trying to fit an entire story into 1000 words was tough. I might have gone too big for that. Maybe you can let me know if you think it was too “epic” for 1000 words.

Once I submitted my story, I had to read and review five ‘duels’. Each duel, I was presented with two stories, both from the same thematic background. I had a few that were “Shipwreck’d” theme, and a few that were “Time Traveler Romance” but none from my own “Aliens!” theme.

It was busy. Every week I had to read, review, and select the winner of the duel. If you have not ever provided in depth feedback to someone’s story, it was quite a lot. And, I wanted to give my best feedback, hoping that those people who read my story gave me their best effort as well. This was the biggest con of the Writing Battle, as it interfered with a lot of my own writing, so my projects got placed on hold.

After about two months, the Writing Battle was complete. I ended up winning 50% of the duels I was a part of, which is pretty decent. I didn’t win, but landed in the middle of the pack.

Overall, I would recommend it to anyone wanting to get involved in a fun writing competition. Apparently, if you make it to the later rounds, you get reviewed by some published authors, which is a great perk.

Here is my story. I hope you enjoy it! If you did, leave me a comment.

“The Parson’s Nest”

“I’m in position,” Tunde whispered, taking a drink from a passing server. She wove through the nobility with practiced smiles, playing at the beloved socialite.

“Excellent. Let’s get this job done,” Pon Fa’s voice replied in her auditory implant.

The Ymir's grand ballroom buzzed with energy, holographic flora wafting beneath an artificial sky. Plumes of scented vapour rose all around, mingling with the alien music. Tunde’s fingers instinctively brushed the locket she wore, her grandmother’s holo-disk photo of an oak tree from Earth. This was the opportunity she had waited years for: the first step in bringing trees back.

The auctioneer stepped up to a microphone. “The next item up for auction is the Parson’s bird nest. Cryogenically preserved in the year 2345, this is one of the last remaining artifacts from Earth. Bidding will begin at ten billion credits.”

The tiny nest was encapsulated within a small clear box, protecting it from the environment and keeping the temperature and humidity constant.

Tunde positioned herself as close to the nest as she could. Her orbital scanner targeted the nest and confirmed that the precious DNA of the blue eggs and the twigs within were still viable.

“Fifteen billion.”

Tunde’s head snapped towards the voice. A male Celigor held up a placard.

“Competition,” Pon Fa’s voice crackled, carrying an edge she hadn’t heard before.

“Twenty billion,” Tunde countered. She lifted the placard with the nonchalance of old money, even as she mulled over Pon Fa’s unusual tension. In all of their years working together, she’d never known him to lose his grip during a job, like it wasn’t just losing the bid he was worried about.

The Celigor turned to face her. “Fifty billion.”

“Seventy.”

“The limit!” Pon Fa warned.

If the Celigor’s smooth face could express disdain, it was doing just that. “One trillion.”

“One-point-one!” Tunde shouted.

The Celigor relented, placing his placard on his lap. The auction countdown passed, and the nest was hers. Tunde accepted congratulations from the crowd as she made her way to the platform. She picked up the box with trembling hands. Inside, the hope of new life - three tiny blue eggs nestled in twigs.

“Meet at the rendezvous point. Quickly.”

Tunde could tell that Pon Fa was annoyed. She didn’t care, the Greater Planet Scientific Collective had plenty of money. Now, Tunde could dive back into her research and hopefully live her lifelong dream of growing a real tree. The videos and holos of the majestic plants swaying in the breeze weren’t enough. It wasn’t real.

Tunde made her way out of the ballroom and into the winding halls of the Ymir, heading for the loading dock on level six. She let her socialite mask fall; each step towards the extraction point transformed her into the agent she really was.

The port to the lifts hissed open. The Celigor stood there, waiting for her to reach the lift. “Tunde. I am Subeka 818. You need to know, your employer isn’t what they seem.”

Tunde felt the blood leave her face. Her cover name was Eris. Had she somehow been compromised?

“I am working with a group trying to preserve human artifacts,” he continued.

The lift dinged. Tunde lunged towards it. Subeka 818 intercepted.

Tunde rained down blows on the Celigor, but Subeka 818 was obviously military; he quickly overwhelmed her. Pain erupted in Tunde’s neck. The nest clattered free, clicking open in the melee.

Through blurred vision, she saw Subeka 818 kneel to handle the nest.

“No!” she croaked. Clutching her neck, she crawled until she was close enough to lunge at him. She locked him into a chokehold. His hands scrabbled for purchase, tearing at Tunde’s forearms. She grit her teeth and held, until the Celigor’s arms went limp.

Tunde threw the unconscious form off of her, then scrambled to pick up the nest and put it gently back into the protective box.

The lift opened up again and Tunde slipped inside. The things that the Celigor said nagged in her mind.

When Tunde arrived at the dock, Pon Fa was standing there with his personal guard. “You recovered the Parson’s nest. Great job.” He motioned to a man beside him. “Ress will verify it.”

Tunde hesitated. The warmth that had made Pon Fa such an effective handler all these years had vanished, leaving something cold and unfamiliar in its place. “The Celigor, he knew things. He-–”

Pon Fa cut her off with a hand. “We need to go. Our presence has been noted. Hand over the nest.”

Tunde flinched. He had never been so cold toward her before. “But-–”

Pon Fa motioned to the guards, who moved forward. Tunde clutched the nest to her chest and turned to run, but that was when she felt the electricity of a taser kiss her neck and paralyze her body. She fell to the floor, helpless, as Pon Fa picked up the box. He opened it up and dumped the nest into another handheld metal container. A small window in the front showed the nest erupt in bright light, then fall to the blackened state of ash.

“Let’s go.”

Tunde lifted a feeble hand, but a sharp pain on the back of her head sent her into darkness.

When she awoke, she was strapped into a seat looking into the bruised face of the Celigor, Subeka 818. She looked around, seated on a passenger transport of some kind. She groaned and rubbed her head.

Subeka 818 held out a small vial for her, and after a moment of consideration, Tunde took it. She held it up to her eyes and saw that inside was one of the eggs and a twig from the Parson’s nest. Her eyes welled up and her chin quivered. The dream wasn’t dead.

“Join me,” Subeka 818 said. “There are others who remember what was lost.”