Nothing like a good war to shake things up in the 'dome. Alliances were forged, blood was spilled, and somehow in the middle of the fray I managed to crawl my way back onto the Blood Throne. And for my tenure as judge, I've decided to depart a little from the norm. Frankly, I think you all have gotten a little too complacent within the confines of this silly, newfangled "short story" business, so I'm going to take us back in time a bit. That's right, get those quill pens/typewriters out, you wannabe Sophocleses, Shakespeares, and Chekhovs, because you're going to write me some plays.

Specifically, you're going to write ten-minute plays, a form that can be both restrictive and freeing, providing plenty of exciting opportunities for storytelling if you approach it creatively. Even if you've got no interest in writing plays, this should be an interesting challenge to write stories driven mostly by dialogue. Trust me, when I took part in Thunderdome a few years back, my dialogue tended to be pretty lousy. Reading and writing plays was immensely helpful in improving, since when pretty much all you have is dialogue it's a lot easier to tell when it sucks ass.

Okay, so here's the tricky part. Since theatre companies often don't have much of a budget to work with, your plays can't be too outlandish or excessive. You are limited to two characters, one location, and relatively minimal technical requirements (props, costumes, etc.). Oh, one more thing: I'd say we got a bit too fanciful last week, don't you think? We're keeping things more grounded, so your plays must depict something that could conceivably happen in reality. Your word limit is 1,500 words, and that includes stage directions and the like.

Request a flash rule for extra challenge, and you'll have three characters to work with instead of two, plus an extra 150 words.

That should be it. Just a tip: Keep the stage directions minimal.