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Sledgehammer at Burning Man

We’re very excited that Sledgehammer was represented at Burning Man this year. 2012 Individual Winner Courtney Sherwood attended the annual arts festival with golden sledgehammers as prizes for the first-ever Burning Man Mini-Sledgehammers. Here’s her report.

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Nothing at Burning Man ever goes quite as planned, and my attempt to bring two 36-minute Sledgehammer contests to the Nevada desert this year proved no exception. I made plans with organizers of two different camps to hold different competitions over the course of the week.
The first 1,000 or so events submitted to the official guide are included in print listed distributed to everyone in attendance, and organizers of the rest have to hope and pray that their events find an audience. Somehow, one of the contests made it to the guide and the other didn’t. It’s no coincidence, then, that dozens of people showed up for the first contest, and nobody made it to the second.
ImageThe official meet and greet for the first-ever Get Lit(erary) at Burning Man collaboration took place immediately before the Sledgehammer competition, so I had to run to get to the contest site on time, and when I arrived there were at least 40-50 people already waiting to go. Some had started writing without any direction from me, and one person spoke up to say that they had agreed to write about Jane Austin clones.
Rather than halt the action that was already under way, I decided to go with the flow. So I stepped to the microphone and asked everyone to take a quick break from writing while I introduced myself and explained how Sledgehammer works in the real world. I told everyone that they had 36 minutes to write a story that incorporated the prompt they had chosen together — Jane Austin clones — and two prompts of my own — burlesque and the phrase “mental floss.” Then I stepped back and turned on the timer.Image
When time ran out, I invited anybody who was interested  to step up and read. So many people raised their hands that I imposed a three-minute time limit. According to my notes, at least 19 people opted to share their stories, and plenty of other people wrote but did not read outloud.
Within 1-2 stories, it became clear that nobody had heard me say “mental floss.” Not a single story incorporated that phrase. So I judged according to these criteria:
1- use of the other two prompts.
2- beginning, middle and end.
3- originality (a few stories that seemed original at first came  to seem less original when other people stepped to the mic with very similar plots and phrasing)
4- audience reaction.
5- arbitrary caprice.
By the time everyone had read, we had been there for close to two hours, and we were running out of stage time — musicians were scheduled to perform in the space we occupied. There were so many entertaining and bizarre stories that I knew it would be impossible to go through my notes and give a completely fair and just ruling, so I quickly chose three people as winners who had scored well during the reading, but I also emphasized before the audience that I could not vouch for the fairness of my judgment, and that many, many people had told excellent stories.
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After we wrapped up the event, the manager of the stage —  the event was at the Lost Penguin Cafe — came up to tell me that we’d drawn one of the biggest crowds of the day, and said he’d loved to host Sledgehammer again next year. I thanked him for hosting, and promised to get there early and to be better prepared if we do it again.
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Thanks for hosting it, Courtney and Lost Penguin Cafe! We look forward to seeing what comes up next year.

Eastern Oregon Word Round-Up Flash Sledgehammer 36-Word Writing Contest

Congratulations, Kristen Blanton, winner of a one-hour consultation with an Indigo editor!

Incorporating the prompt exhibit, Kristen wrote this piece of flash fiction (a week before :

Imagine an exhibit where people want to be, with lots of gadgets and tables to see. Sounds like the fun you’ll have at Wordstock, without me.

©2013 Kristen Blanton

Wordstock Flash Sledgehammer 36-Word Writing Contest, Part 2

There is usually only one winner of our Mini and Flash Sledgehammers, but our judges were so taken with another entry to the Wordstock Flash Sledgehammer that we decided to award a second place to Kaitee Steiert. She’ll receive 15% off an Indigo service. Congratulations, Kaitee!

Incorporating the prompt free-for-all, Kaitee wrote this piece of flash fiction:

It starts perfect. A smile, a free-for-all with the air. Next: pain, eating dirt, that stubborn horse wondering why the hell I did something like that. She won’t be broken after all.

©2013 Kaitee Steiert

Wordstock Flash Sledgehammer 36-Word Writing Contest, Part 1

Congratulations, Eric Butler, winner of a one-hour consultation with an Indigo editor!

Incorporating the prompt free-for-all, Eric wrote this piece of flash fiction:

The meeting adjourned, the doors opened, the free-for-all began. I moved a moment too late, and found myself shut out. Their conversations were walls against me; how strange to have no audience in a crowded room.

©2013 Eric Butler

Mini Sledgehammer September 2013: Blackbird Wine & Atomic Cheese

For the first Mini Sledgehammer since the main event, we had a small but strong showing. Congratulations to Ian Drew Forsyth for winning his first Mini!

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Prompts:
Character: someone in a red hat
Action: playing cards
Setting: In front of the computer
Phrase: “I have to!”

***

Metaprogamming the Gods

by Ian Drew Forsyth

When the series of events that interlocks our existences is activated, it takes superior concentration to impede the unfolding events. For Dr. Azarel it seemed too late even in the manifold possibilities in front of him, at the helm of one of the first quantum computers in the multiverse.

I have to, he kept muttering to himself. With only a host of his befuddled associates to contain him, this seemed the best path.

The concept of “best” fails to take into account the full ramifications of such a path. He had read the cards correctly, laid each one, each electro-tarot, played with the possibilities, and some essential intuitive force had urged him to such conclusions.

Earth was in the midst of the battling mundane, and it had been beckoned by the call of the ‘red hats’ as they were called. Much as the British imperial soldiers had been deemed: red coats, these mad psychoneuronauts were an imperial force of the mind—close to the intangibly mystic spirit, for this mind they purposed to exist in all simultaneous glories was beyond all former conceptions of self.

Even the most far bent religious esoteric sects couldn’t filter such specific illuminations. Of the main electroaxioms that Dr. Azarel and his colleagues professed were as follows:

  1. The self is a fabric of individual parallel selves and layers of collective being composites.
  2. Time is beyond mere Einsteinian dimensions: past-present-future or pasenture as it is known is compounded by full directional non-sequential “time” which continually disassociates itself from not mere dualisms but even ten dimensional states: infinitude is the superior attitude of a simultaneous I and We interlocked in tangled illusive improbabilities of possibility.

There were more rules, or rather, supposed theories, that were a boggled mouthful. Although, the red hats had demonstrated miracles on the daily, although they’d long ago superseded the limited thoughtform of the day.

And thus is was on this “day”, that Dr. Azarel was prepared to ultimately refract himself, the self, the entangled being, into supradimensions. He carefully with full detachment placed the supracelluar hyperdimensional metaprogramming orbital circuit nodeform on his forehead drenched in sweat: also known as the womb helmet, or red hat, for its phosphorescent crimson hue that surged and crackled with the raw potentiality of infinity.

Just as the womb helmet slipped over his visage, his assistant, the hyperion grad student: Dr. Iblis entered screaming at him to cease his hyperspace actions.

“Don’t you dare!”

Dr. Azarel turned with a malignant glare. “I will do as I wish.”

“Your wishes are pure hubris, and I won’t see you exit this planet without explaining to me why you want to leave it so badly.”

The doctor grit his teeth and slammed his fists on the motherboard signals seizing them up and literally distorting his rationale. It takes much rationalization and reason to believe such bizarre theorems.

“Iblis you insist on an absence of free will in the multiverse because you’re afraid.”

Iblis began to creep towards his mentor ready to seize the red hat from his control. “It’s not like that, I believe in upholding the collective. Your individualized screen of hyperreality has lead you to isolation, even solipsism I could argue.”

“Damnit! It’s not solipsism, it’s what all those sufis, yogis, and the rest of the mystical masses were attempting with no understanding of mass, energy, and the dimensional space—I deserve this technologic samadhi for my work.”

“No one is denying your work—but it is a delusion to assume you would be elevated, even brought to apotheosis by such deletion of your stable self, multiforming into the larger suggestion.”

“Who says that!”

“We all do Dr. Azarel. We’ve been worried about you. Your love calls me consistently telling me to pull you from your lab. The governments of the world want your advice—”

“—Oh they would only use me for weaponry—they’d blow up the stars before walking through them.”

“Your posthumanism has gone to far doctor. We’re suggesting a human intervention.”

“Ha! You’ll never dethrone what I’ve known, seen, and what I could perceive if you babbling peons would let me.”

“Rage all you want—” Iblis finally within grasping distance tackled the doctor—slamming him into the quantum computer and exposing them to the threat of permanent impermanence refraction—

But Iblis was swift and in subduing the womb helmet from Azarel’s skull, the mad doctor collapsed in fatigue.

Iblis sighed, picked up the womb helmet, placed it on his head. And beat Azarel to his own technoapotheosis.

For in science, there is only one god. And it is the scientist.