Just a word about the Bulwer-Lytton Awards 2010 which are out this week. Of all the literary prizes this one has no inbuilt bias towards those with talent, in fact it only gets in your way. Started in 1983 by Professor Scott Rice it has been a boon to bad writing ever since, regularly flooded with so much tortured prose you'd wonder how the judges can cope with it all and retain their sanity. All you have to do is come up with the most eye-wateringly bad opening sentence. The link provides plenty of good examples, and so inspired I couldn't help having a go myself.
The day began badly, not for the usual reason that the sky was as leaden grey as a businessman's suit, the sort bank managers used to wear back in the days there were such things, bank managers that is not suits, but because the dull thud of mail on the mat did not herald the arrival of Isadora's much anticipated acceptance letter but yet another sheaf of form rejections.
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