Bulwer-Lytton, anyone?

[dale coba]

For my current effort at a story, the character's writings display many incompetent traits. One way to exemplify incompetence in writing is to emulate the "great" 19th-century author Edgar Bulwer-Lytton. In his time, he was regarded as well as Dickens by many American readers; but very shortly after that, his writing was correctly reappraised as often god-awful. That's why the annual contest bears his name. I'm such a word puzzle geek, I remember reading about the first contest three decades ago.

Anyway, it wouldn't be too hard for the best and the worst of us writers to find something to offer in a challenge for The worst opening sentence/paragraph. I'm only beginning to hit my stride in a writing routine, so I don't always know the difference between the best and the worst of what I produce. I don't have any worthwhile submissions to offer currently, but now I know where I can post such sentences when I learn to recognize them my own writing.

- Dale Coba

[darkbutflashy]

"All your base are belong to us."

Oh wait, that's the ending sentence.

[dale coba]

I'll give it a shot.

Cap'n, I should have explicitly said that the opening sentences should be about fembots; but, to be fair, I shouldn't have had to say it.

- Dale Coba

[dale coba]

Here's my attempt:

The night was moist. Radamanthus sat perched upon his stool in the robot lab like some post-hoc manner of Hercules, wanton for desire of the altruistic device of furnishing for a fembot hither. His bespectacled scull throbbed with the worry and the brood and the vexation of ten-thousand worrying scientists of invention as he delicately and forcefully pulled the switch that read “ON” and also “OFF”. Pools of sweat beaded and pooled on his furrowed forehead as he sweated and watched the machine that held his lovely - his latest invention - the Synth-Wyfe! Lightning burst all around in a clashing cacophony of science and glory as Radamanthus sounded his evil scientist laugh. “She’s a life!”

Truly, there is much in what you have written to make an English professor shake his or her head in sadness and disgust. It starts off unimpressive, and introduces a character with a dubious name, who redundantly sits and perches in the childishly named robot lab. "Post-hoc" throws me off base - 'cause I couldn't use it correctly; but the next clause loses me entirely in ways that I am pretty sure are not my fault. Alternate scull, most switches say on and off, ... bad stuff, bad stuff. Good job.

You'd have to toss that thing into a rock tumbler of editing, and leave it running for a couple of days, to get down to something reasonably decent. "She's a life!" - who could help but want to scratch that line out, when encountered in a paper book? Thanks, Robotman.

- Dale Coba

[--NightBattery--]

Here goes nothing:

The immensity of the machine was indescribable, almost a ladder was required to get on top, but a stool suffice, Bort, the almost-technician was chosen amongst all, and by them all, not because he was young, but because he was old, which didn’t also traduced as smart. All degrees, doctors and not, male and female raised their heads, in most uncaring expression, as Bort, on top of the memory bank, climbed the tiny window…down, to get inside where the rogue science robot was, sealed, ready to destroy all mankind, with her puny, tiny, girly fists.

[dale coba]

Here goes nothing:

It drips with ineffective mushiness, and falls through your fingers like runny oatmeal.

And the bad part is not from any language barrier. A very light dusting off, polish away nothing from the surface, and the bad parts would be just as bad, plus you'd never doubt an American was responsible.

- Dale Coba

[--NightBattery--]

Here goes nothing:

[RoxxyRobofox]

Oh man, are we writing really badly? Because I wanna write REALLY badly.

"The femmebot ninja cyborg-itron 550 was awoken with the simple flicker of a dull switch, and her eyes, as they could be described as eyes thanks to their spherical nature and also their nature in that they could see and be seen as eyes, blinked on and saw things for the first time in the femmebot ninja cyborg-itron 550's life, or existence as it would be described as life was berift in this mechanical un-creature of gears, wiring and things of circuitry and other pleasantness."

[Saya]

Well, may as well give this a shot!

"Into the living domicile steppeted SEXY MACHINE GO, borderline the skirt, with much made to the upping and downing of the round extentions of chest. When it occur, she came into domestic area and spoke to the words 'I am occur'. Who knew the name that was called out to him, Steve, warped a digit into the pocket and told SEXY MACHINE GO "being the way to move, extant the sexy, you do!" Love, sexings went, but SEXY MACHINE GO did seem to have the oops. "I am have the oops", she say in the manner of skip."

[jolshefsky]

Trying to be concise:

Once switched on, Androidea's systems directed her body to insert the first of thirty-four 5-1/4" floppy disks containing her artificial intelligence into her eagerly waiting vagina.

[darkbutflashy]

The chronicles had been accurate on the features of Barbra, who headed you, in despite, off but finally found herself in the scrap press, along with the other clockworkettes.

Eager to know the rest of the story?

[jolshefsky]

I'm cracking up at these ...

[Mirage]

I DOne it! I HavE Combined the SOULS of Hitler, Sadams Hussen and Micheal Jackson together, into my FEMBBOT!

That is all I have...