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 A Pipe Writing Contest

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thefoolish

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Age : 27
Location : St. Louis
Registration date : 2011-01-12

PostSubject: A Pipe Writing Contest   Wed Nov 16, 2011 12:00 am

So, I am issuing a challenge to all of those that I can reach. You don't have to be a pipe-smoker to take part in this challenge, or even have any knowledge of pipes at all, though the prize for winning might not be that exciting to you if you don't smoke a pipe.

Here is the challenge: Write a coherent story using as many pipe shape names as possible (a list of a few of these name will be include below). This story should not only include the needed vocabulary, but should also be entertaining. Stories will be judged on literary value, number of vocabulary words included, and if the words used flow naturally within the story.

Here is an example that I wrote a while ago: "A Canadian prince and a lumberjack from Liverpool are playing a game of billiards in Dublin, and another man joins them and says “I've got a bulldog and I know you'll just lovat." The prince spits the seeds of the pear he is eating into a pot, hits the eight ball, and says, "A bulldog? My friend, that's a Rhodesian Ridgeback!" The lumberjack drinks a horn of apple brandy while he picks up a poker and jostles the logs in the fireplace, sending embers up into the chimney like a volcano. "Whatever you call it," the lumberjack says, "his eyes are as red as a tomato and he's ugly as a blowfish!"

Rules: The story cannot exceed 500 words, must be fully your work, and must be posted on my blog (pipeschool.blogspot.com) as a reply to the topic "A Pipe Contest" by December 1st, 2011, at 11:59 PM. The needed vocabulary should be used in a way that makes sense and not just thrown it. Variants of a pipe name (bent apple, straight apple, etc.) will not be counted twice.

Prize: The author of the story with the most votes – or that the judges deem the best, should there not be enough votes cast – will receive 2 ounces of John Cotton No. 1 from a 40-year old tin, 50 grams of the original Balkan Sobranie, and his choice of 2oz of Full Virginia Flake or 2oz Penzance

Please feel free to vote on which story you feel is the best.

Good luck to all and have fun!

Some pipe-shape names:

Acorn
Apple
Author
Ball
Billiard
Blowfish
Brandy
Bulldog
Calabash
Canadian
Cavalier
Cherrywood
Chimney
Churchwarden
Clam
Cutty
Diplomat
Dublin
Egg
Freehand
Hawkbill
Horn
Liverpool
Lovat
Lumberman
Oom Paul
Panel
Pear
Poker
Pot
Prince
Rhodesian
Skater
Strawberry
Tankard
Tomahawk
Tomato
Volcano
Whale
Zulu
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Kyle Weiss

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Location : Reno, NV
Registration date : 2011-09-18

PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Wed Nov 16, 2011 1:19 am

Neat! Cool Challenge accepted. Though the last time I accepted something like this, unbeknownst to me, it was to help someone turn in a ridiculous paper for graduate school...and there was no prize. A fool and his words, they say... Cool
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joshoowah

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Age : 31
Location : Nairobi, Kenya
Registration date : 2011-09-24

PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Wed Nov 16, 2011 2:28 am

For your viewing pleasure:


A diplomat and a prince got together one spring in a pear orchard. There just so happened to be a little eatery next to the orchard surrounded by strawberry and tomato vines called ’Oom Paul’. They each sat down at a small table made out of cherrywood and ordered two tankards full of their finest pear mead. They spoke for hours about the places they had been and the people they met. They spoke of the beautiful city of Dublin in Ireland, the vibrant experience of Liverpool, and even their trips to Africa to visit the Zulu people. Interestingly enough, while visiting Africa they were able to examine and study the breeding history of the Rhodesian Ridgeback, which was the breed intriguingly used to hunt lions. They even saw a few whales on their voyage back home. Their conversation lingered until the sun began to depart; it was then that the owner ushered them inside to avoid the cool night air. He insisted they take a seat by the chimney to warm up.

After making his guests comfortable, the owner put on a pot of clam chowder, serving it with a side of deviled eggs. Much to their surprise, some fresh apple pie was provided for dessert. At that moment, a Canadian lumberman sauntered into the room with a cavalier expression on his face.

The three men who had begun to play billards turned away from their game to ask the lumberman, “Why so smug?” He haughtily replied, “While playing a game of poker I heard a tale of a beautiful woman trapped in a volcano by a savage man. I instantly flung my cards down and went to rescue her. At the top of the volcano, I used my tomahawk to chop off the man’s hand that was holding his hawkbill shaped machete, I threw her over my shoulder, and ran down the volcano as it began erupting. As we approached safety, she promptly handed me a golden acorn as a token of her gratitude and then the devilish cutty turned into a blowfish. ” The three men proved an impressed panel of judges: one dropped the ball that he was rolling to his bulldog, one dropped the pen he was using to freehand a sketch of the rhinoceros horns upon the mantle, and the last declared he wanted to be the author of the lumberman’s biography.

Finally, the churchwarden bustled in wearing his lovat colored robes with a calabash full of brandy, proposing a toast to the blowfish.
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Kyle Weiss

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Location : Reno, NV
Registration date : 2011-09-18

PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Wed Nov 16, 2011 6:23 pm

Space—it’s cold this time of year. Sorry, space joke. It’s always cold, and what I wouldn’t give for a good author, tankard of brandy, fresh strawberries, or some hot clam chowder or tomato soup out here. Stuff like that isn’t a good idea out here: the weight has to be kept to a minimum on a ship like this.

The name’s Commander Lovat, her name’s “Zulu.” I never liked her name, gave me the willies. That’s what happens when you get picked for the last ship in the line to be commissioned, and they don’t give these things out in a cavalier manner. Zulu’s an ungainly, tough whale of a ship, though, kind of acorn-like, egg-shaped with a hawkbill front--but has the grace of an ice skater. Living space in her ain’t much bigger than a chimney, with not much head room. Behind every panel there’s some mechanic’s idea of “fixing the problem,” schematics are drawn freehand and willy-nilly by every one of them. Some areas got real serious problems, and are hotter than a damn volcano. Wires and conduits curve around like an Oom Paul or calabash pipes—they’re everywhere. God, I wish I could smoke a pipe in here. The carbon-monoxide alarms would go off and shut the engines down, though. Back on Earth I got a hell of a blowfish briar and some good Virginia waiting for me. It won’t be long, this mission should be a cinch. Zulu ain’t much, but she’s home. I’d much rather some nice, warm cherrywood furniture than this ice-cold metal that freezes to my ass.

The Canadians almost beat us to this anomaly I’m exploring, and since China went to war with the Russians, they’re the only others with a ball in the space game. Met a few of ‘em when I was on vacation in Dublin. We won’t be going back to that bar for a while. Even the Irish stayed out of that fight. Some space diplomats we were. A little Cutty Sark in me, I’m no prince, I’ll tell you that. The jails there all smell like rotting pears and apples, are guarded by Rhodesian ridgebacks and bulldogs, and there’s but one pot to crap in. Better than jail in Liverpool—not to toot my own horn, but those guys were pushovers. All because of a billiards game gone wrong.

I suppose you’re wondering what I do for fun around here…well, not much. I have reports to write, radio poker with the guys nearby, old movies, and books, but the thing that gets me excited is launching the tomahawk-9 missiles at incoming asteroids. The proximity alarms sure get my blood moving—BOOM!

Being the sole operator of a broken-down space ship ain’t easy, but at least I ain’t no churchwarden or lumberman. Looking down death’s hallway is the real fun of this job. You gotta be nuts to be piloting a ship like Zulu sixteen light years from home…

-----------------------------

493 words, and I think I used the entire word list... I hope so! Laughing


Last edited by Kyle Weiss on Thu Nov 17, 2011 3:12 pm; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : Something written poorly that was bothering me... that's what I get for rushing that one out!)
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Bub

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PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Wed Nov 16, 2011 9:24 pm

Kyle, I didn't count the number of pipes, but you deserve an A+ for originality.
By the way have you seen HAL on your voyage?
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Harlock999

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Location : Los Angeles
Registration date : 2010-10-22

PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Wed Nov 16, 2011 10:34 pm

Kyle Weiss wrote:
The Canadians almost beat us to this anomaly I’m exploring, and since China went to war with the Russians, they’re the only others with a ball in the space game. Met a few of ‘em when I was on vacation in Dublin. We won’t be going back to that bar for a while. Even the Irish stayed out of that fight. Some space diplomats we were. A little Cutty Sark in me, I’m no prince, I’ll tell you that. The jails there all smell like rotting pears and apples, are guarded by Rhodesian ridgebacks and bulldogs, and there’s but one pot to crap in. Better than jail in Liverpool—not to toot my own horn, but those guys were pushovers. All because of a billiards game gone wrong.

GENIUS! cheers cheers cheers
The world weary tone, the humor, the use of all the words...excellent!
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thefoolish

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Age : 27
Location : St. Louis
Registration date : 2011-01-12

PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Wed Nov 16, 2011 10:37 pm

I'm really loving all of the responses. This has turned out to be a roaring success! I look forward to even more submissions. bounce
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MisterE
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Location : Mexico City
Registration date : 2009-08-24

PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Wed Nov 16, 2011 11:15 pm

I'll give it a go....


“Another glass of whiskey?” asked the Churchwarden. He was rotund man, much resembling a tomato. He himself would even agree that his physique had gone to pot. Though a member of the clergy, he was not above an occasional visit to the tavern.
“I think not, my friend” replied the author. “It’s late and tomorrow I must meet with the new Canadian diplomat. I have only barely begun to write his biography.”
“I won’t insist then”, said the Churchwarden. “I have heard that the he is a distant relative of the South African president Oom Paul. Is that true? That should make for an interesting interview!”
“It surely will, and yes, his African heritage will be a whale of a story.”
The author paused and set his glass of Cutty Sark on the cherrywood panel above the fireplace. He took the poker to gently stir up coals, setting them aglow once again. Sensing the new warmth rise up the chimney he continued.
“His father was a Dutch Prince who came to Africa set on climbing the Butajira-Silti volcano. He was a cavalier fellow by all accounts, bearing the countenance of a bulldog and a temper to match. Though he never climbed the volcano he remained in Africa and later became hero of the Boer War. He is reputed to have killed over a hundred Zulus with a tomahawk while serving under his cousin Paul Kruger! In later life, however, he became bitter and developed a strong taste for Strawberry and Pear Brandy. He drank the stuff by the tankard becoming an embarrassment to all. He eventually found his way to the Rhodesian countryside where he lived out his days in obscurity. He met his end in a drunken stupor performing foolish parlor tricks for his guests. The story goes that he died juggling an apple, an egg, and an acorn freehand style. He slipped, cracking his head open on the Hawkbill shaped corner of his livingroom fireplace. A sad ending to an otherwise heroic life.”
“Tragic” lamented the Churchwarden.
“It is difficult to imagine such a man with the mother. She was the daughter of an Irish lumberjack from Dublin and brought up under strictest of Protestant ideals by her mother in Liverpool. A talented figure skater, she nearly perished with the rest of the Irish Olympic team sailing around the Horn en route to Lake Victoria. She was saved by the then-Lieutenant who headed the rescue efforts. They later married and remained in Africa. Upon her husband’s death, she left for Toronto with her son. She eventually remarried with a local textile producer and lived to a ripe old age. Of note, the second husband’s factory was the sole supplier of fabric for Thomas Alexander Fraser’s (Lord Lovat) wardrobe.”
“Well, I shall look for the book when it comes out, sir! ”
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thefoolish

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Age : 27
Location : St. Louis
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PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Thu Nov 17, 2011 12:13 am

Hey, MisterE! Superb job! Would you mind posting that on my blog so that it can be lined up with all the others? Cheers on a job very well done! What a Face
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Kyle Weiss

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Location : Reno, NV
Registration date : 2011-09-18

PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Thu Nov 17, 2011 1:32 am

Brilliant, Mr.E... Very Happy
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dshpipes

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Age : 33
Location : Durham, NC
Registration date : 2011-03-06

PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Thu Nov 17, 2011 2:24 am

Nicely done, gents! I'm still doing some tweaks on my submission but I'll finish up soon. It looks like this contest is going to be quite the race!
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Harlock999

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Location : Los Angeles
Registration date : 2010-10-22

PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Thu Nov 17, 2011 9:27 am

MisterE wrote:
I'll give it a go....
In later life, however, he became bitter and developed a strong taste for Strawberry and Pear Brandy. He drank the stuff by the tankard becoming an embarrassment to all. He eventually found his way to the Rhodesian countryside where he lived out his days in obscurity. He met his end in a drunken stupor performing foolish parlor tricks for his guests. The story goes that he died juggling an apple, an egg, and an acorn freehand style.

Brilliant!
cheers cheers cheers
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alfredo_buscatti

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Age : 62
Location : Piedmont, North Carolina
Registration date : 2007-12-17

PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Fri Nov 18, 2011 6:22 am

Hmmmmm, a strawberry and acorn soup, my favorite! said the author, belching toward a neighboring chimney and farting at the gents playing billiards in the parlor. Ewwwwww!, they said, and grabbing a tomahawk and inserting it at the cue, continued their game of poker facilitated by dessert pears, in the dark and dreary paneled parlor.

Finishing the first soup, ordering a second of tomato with volcano garnish and introducing a pocketed whale in conversation with a zulu, the author pondered a paperback that attempted to skate down his hand, and which soon lodged in his navel. A tankard at his elbow, he tipped it back until the rhodesian at its bottom clanked its way to his mouth.

Oom Paul was his name, and together with his brother Oop Raul, they lovat
and leered at all the girls, who were not enamored given the size of their greying pots. Although they were princes, they lumbermaned to the window each time honeys drove by in egg-shaped carriages, hawking the bills of visiting freehands performing in Liverpool accompanied by horns.

Paul and Raul ignored burgeoning Dublin and drove a cutty to the home of a churchwarden who had a chimney in place of a nose and whose mouth was shaped like a clam. A diplomatic man, he nonetheless drank brandy in great draughts from a cavalier cherrywood calabash; his bulldog at his side.

He spoke to the inn-keep about a bed in the shape of a ball and retired early, pocketing a blowfish from a nearby aquarium and securing an apple for his pre-breakfast.
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Kyle Weiss

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PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Fri Nov 18, 2011 12:38 pm

alfredo_buscatti wrote:

Oom Paul was his name, and together with his brother Oop Raul, they lovat
and leered at all the girls, who were not enamored given the size of their greying pots. Although they were princes, they lumbermaned to the window each time honeys drove by in egg-shaped carriages, hawking the bills of visiting freehands performing in Liverpool accompanied by horns.

Weirdest paragraph yet. Laughing What an image that creates. Love it. Cool
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Vito

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Registration date : 2007-12-10

PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Fri Nov 18, 2011 1:52 pm

Youse guys are all crazy. Nice work! cheers I'm glad I don't have to pick the winner.

alfredo_buscatti wrote:
Hmmmmm, a strawberry and acorn soup, my favorite! said the author, belching toward a neighboring chimney and farting at the gents playing billiards in the parlor. Ewwwwww!, they said, and grabbing a tomahawk and inserting it at the cue, continued their game of poker...
...He spoke to the inn-keep about a bed in the shape of a ball and retired early, pocketing a blowfish from a nearby aquarium and securing an apple for his pre-breakfast.
Jeez, Mike...sounds like they're all on acid. Or you are. Wink

Your entry has to be the El Supremo in the free-form, quasi-psychedelic category. Not surprisingly (what with you being a charter member of The Bards of BoB, and all), it's more like poetry than prose (...albeit the kind of poetry Douglas Adams might have written).

It's beyond weird; it's Mutant Quality™. So, naturally, I approve!

jocolor

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alfredo_buscatti

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Age : 62
Location : Piedmont, North Carolina
Registration date : 2007-12-17

PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Sat Nov 19, 2011 8:37 pm

Vito,

Glad you liked.

As regards the surrealistic air, I was looking at other entries thinking that surely, they would best me as regards story; but then I thought that my odd rendition might be judged superior because of an original quality.

Who knows what the judges will decide?

Mike
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Vito

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PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Sat Nov 19, 2011 11:20 pm

alfredo_buscatti wrote:
... knows what the judges will decide?
It's not knowable, Mike. In the end, the judges have to pick one to the exclusion of all others using totally subjective criteria. They're entitled to their opinions, of course, but the nature of the game is such that creating one winner automatically makes everyone else a "loser". Contests in general are not the kind of venue I'm inclined to use for release of creative works.

One should never enter such contests with any expectation of "winning". 'Tis best to create such entries for the sole pleasure of doing it. And posting the entries here at least rewards the authors with some appreciative feedback from the brethren.

jocolor
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Lesath

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Location : The Ozarks, well hidden and always at large
Registration date : 2011-07-22

PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Sun Nov 20, 2011 1:22 pm

As I sat at my desk, pretending to be an author, sipping my brandy, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching down the hall. After a brief pause, the sound of smashing wood could be heard. My door was receiving abuse of the worst sort, causing me to jump up and retreat to the opening of the fireplace, retrieving the poker in the hope it could provide a measure of protection. Splinters flew, and the remains of my fine oak door shattered to either side. A burly Canadian lumberman stood breathlessly, a pickaxe in his grasp. Up until now, my useless bulldog lay sleeping. Now he sat up, looking as though he had swallowed a billiard ball. The lumberman made short work of him, striking him with teh pickaxe. The bulldog exploded like a volcano, years of overeating and sloth finally exposed. As the lumberman raised his bloody weapon, I cowered behind my desk, poker at the ready to receive a certain deathblow. Hearing a strange chanting from the fireplace, I suddenly saw a naked Zulu warrior, horn in one hand, and a ukulele in the other, step in front of me to confront my tormentor. It was a Mexican standoff of sorts, and then all hell broke loose. I am uncertain who moved first, but they began circling, looking for weaknesses. The first casualty was my rare Rhodesion statue of a cavalier. Next, the bullmoose mount was torn from its place on the wall. Reaching into my vestpocket I pulled out a ball, squeezing it in a fit of nerves. A hawkbill was knocked from another mount, a stone egg spun on the floor, and an acorn bounced on my desktop. In the course of this bedlam, the window of my study began to rise, and I swear directly from Dublin, a churchwarden crawled through my window. He strolled across the room, fight in progress, receiving not a single scratch. He climbed upon my desk, cleared his throat, and said, "Gentlemen, this is not a bar in Liverpool, stop this ridiculous behavior at this moment or I will take a freehand." The lumberman and Zulu stopped and turned. The churchwarden stood, tapping a cherrywood staff on my desktop. "Could I have a wee dram," he asked me. I reached behind me and filled a tankard from a pot of some fine stout that I just happened to have close at hand. As he tipped it, the two other guests made their move, as did I. I was sick and tired of these uninvited intruders, but someone coming through my window was just wrong. I swept the feet of the churchwarden with my poker, and he fell as easily as an unbalanced skater. The Zulu then struck him with the ukulele, and the lumberman disemboweled him with the pickaxe. Then, they turned to me and the lumberman said, "We've been trying to get that old diplomat for years, here's a coupon for a blowfish dinner at Oom Paul's. Thank you.

Five hundred words exactly...
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Kyle Weiss

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PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Sun Nov 20, 2011 2:05 pm

I like Vito's irrefutably correct and random sentiments (as opposed to politically correct, I guess) in response to the most casual of statements. Laughing You just never know where they're going to pop up next...

...fodder for another pipe-term themed story? Razz


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Vito

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PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Sun Nov 20, 2011 4:52 pm

Kyle Weiss wrote:
I like Vito's irrefutably correct and random sentiments (as opposed to politically correct, I guess)...
Kyle:

If I ever write anything that's "politically correct", please shoot me.

jocolor
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Kyle Weiss

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PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Sun Nov 20, 2011 5:13 pm

Vito wrote:
Kyle Weiss wrote:
I like Vito's irrefutably correct and random sentiments (as opposed to politically correct, I guess)...
Kyle:

If I ever write anything that's "politically correct", please shoot me.

jocolor

Deal. Cool
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thefoolish

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Location : St. Louis
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PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Mon Nov 28, 2011 12:50 am

Lesath wrote:
As I sat at my desk, pretending to be an author, sipping my brandy, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching down the hall. After a brief pause, the sound of smashing wood could be heard. My door was receiving abuse of the worst sort, causing me to jump up and retreat to the opening of the fireplace, retrieving the poker in the hope it could provide a measure of protection. Splinters flew, and the remains of my fine oak door shattered to either side. A burly Canadian lumberman stood breathlessly, a pickaxe in his grasp. Up until now, my useless bulldog lay sleeping. Now he sat up, looking as though he had swallowed a billiard ball. The lumberman made short work of him, striking him with teh pickaxe. The bulldog exploded like a volcano, years of overeating and sloth finally exposed. As the lumberman raised his bloody weapon, I cowered behind my desk, poker at the ready to receive a certain deathblow. Hearing a strange chanting from the fireplace, I suddenly saw a naked Zulu warrior, horn in one hand, and a ukulele in the other, step in front of me to confront my tormentor. It was a Mexican standoff of sorts, and then all hell broke loose. I am uncertain who moved first, but they began circling, looking for weaknesses. The first casualty was my rare Rhodesion statue of a cavalier. Next, the bullmoose mount was torn from its place on the wall. Reaching into my vestpocket I pulled out a ball, squeezing it in a fit of nerves. A hawkbill was knocked from another mount, a stone egg spun on the floor, and an acorn bounced on my desktop. In the course of this bedlam, the window of my study began to rise, and I swear directly from Dublin, a churchwarden crawled through my window. He strolled across the room, fight in progress, receiving not a single scratch. He climbed upon my desk, cleared his throat, and said, "Gentlemen, this is not a bar in Liverpool, stop this ridiculous behavior at this moment or I will take a freehand." The lumberman and Zulu stopped and turned. The churchwarden stood, tapping a cherrywood staff on my desktop. "Could I have a wee dram," he asked me. I reached behind me and filled a tankard from a pot of some fine stout that I just happened to have close at hand. As he tipped it, the two other guests made their move, as did I. I was sick and tired of these uninvited intruders, but someone coming through my window was just wrong. I swept the feet of the churchwarden with my poker, and he fell as easily as an unbalanced skater. The Zulu then struck him with the ukulele, and the lumberman disemboweled him with the pickaxe. Then, they turned to me and the lumberman said, "We've been trying to get that old diplomat for years, here's a coupon for a blowfish dinner at Oom Paul's. Thank you.

Five hundred words exactly...

Good show, Lesath! Be sure to post it on the blog (pipeschool.blogspot.com) to enter the contest!

Also, a quick update: there are only a couple of days left in the contest, so be sure to post any entries you are working on soon to be entered!

Cheers
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thefoolish

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Location : St. Louis
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PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Mon Nov 28, 2011 12:51 am

Vito wrote:
alfredo_buscatti wrote:
... knows what the judges will decide?
It's not knowable, Mike. In the end, the judges have to pick one to the exclusion of all others using totally subjective criteria. They're entitled to their opinions, of course, but the nature of the game is such that creating one winner automatically makes everyone else a "loser". Contests in general are not the kind of venue I'm inclined to use for release of creative works.

One should never enter such contests with any expectation of "winning". 'Tis best to create such entries for the sole pleasure of doing it. And posting the entries here at least rewards the authors with some appreciative feedback from the brethren.

jocolor

A brilliant analysis, but I am loathe for anyone to feel a loser. Just so everyone knows, I am planning a second, very similar, contest after the new year, so keep your eyes peeled and those creative muscles working!
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Kyle Weiss

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PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Mon Nov 28, 2011 12:56 am

thefoolish wrote:
...and those creative muscles working!

...neurons? Pills? Whiskey? Funny mushrooms? Days of fasting? All of the above? Et cetera?
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thefoolish

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PostSubject: Re: A Pipe Writing Contest   Mon Nov 28, 2011 12:57 am

Kyle Weiss wrote:
thefoolish wrote:
...and those creative muscles working!

...neurons? Pills? Whiskey? Funny mushrooms? Days of fasting? All of the above? Et cetera?

Whatever works for you! A combination of all of those things would surely result in some very interesting writing! Razz
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