Idea #14: Create a Writing Contest Even Though I Don't Run a Literary Journal

Description
The past couple years I've periodically submitted about a half dozen stories to a number of writing contests, paying submission fees that range from $2-20. And each time I wonder: what a great scheme! All these writers desperate for exposure, hoping to at least land on the Honorable Mention list, or even get a cash prize. Many of these contests also end up extending their deadlines, convincing more writers to submit their work - for a slightly raised fee.

Not that I think it's a scam. They do pay out the prizes, as far as I know. These fledgling literary journals or magazines need the cash flow - not  lot of people paying for thick books of short stories, poems, and essays these days. While there are more websites presenting magazines and journals in a more well-designed manner, like Issuu.com (looking through Writer's Market's list of publications, there's a lot of publications out there who haven't even updated their websites since the 1990's), but it's not certain that the Internet won't eventually destroy literary journals willing to pay writers for their work. The only ones that really provide exposure are the university-subsidized ones put out by the Creative Writing Department staff and students.

Would-be writers have always been suckers, though. Just desperate to get their name out there, they fork over a lot of money for books and seminars and webinars promising to make them good enough at the craft to be published the next day. Scroll through Writer's Market's website and look at the prices for some of these products - hundreds of dollars, many charging over $500, for something that could be learned in a library book.

I could probably run a contest, send each of the winners one of the ten copies I printed just for them and pocket the rest of the submission fees.

Steps
1) Create a slick literary website with a bunch of my own work under pseudonyms.
2) Hire a printer to produce a few copies for those who actually request one (and pay for it).
3) Start advertising a contest in Writer's Market or any of the other Writer's-whatever publications. Charge a modest fee a promise a cash prize for first and second place winners.
4) Wait for the submissions to roll in. Enjoy perusing peoples' work and select my favorites.
5) Announce the winners and send them a check along with a hard-copy of the publication. Although, it's not really necessary to send a hard-copy; this just adds to the legitimacy factor.

Enthusiasm: None. I actually don't care to do this. Sure I could, but it would probably only be a little less work than running and actual literary journal, with the added guilt of suckering would be writers like myself.

Practicality: As practical as creating a website and advertising on key writer's advice websites.

Difficulty: Technically speaking, not that difficult. Morally speaking - that depends on you.

Idea #6: Stemming the Invasion of Kipple

Description
I've been following through on the long-held idea to buy a car and move to another place, so I've been too busy to mull over hare-brained ideas. But while unpacking my stuff, I came up with one for getting rid of old stuff. I got rid of as much stuff as I could while packing, by put it out on the lawn with an ad on Craiglist saying "Curb Alert: Free shit!" (which is surprisingly effective - people [with horrible psychologically-based hoarding issues, no doubt] troll Craigslist for those kinds of ads), and dropping everything else off at Goodwill. But I still have all this stuff.

So I thought, "You know, if a fire rips through your home or a burgler puts his gun to your temple, there's really not much stuff you care to think about, other than your life." I wondered what I would choose to keep if someone put a gun to my head and said, "Is that really something you need?"

An extreme situation? Yes, definitely. But if this were some kind of new revival of the Saw films, and  Jigsaw were mind-fucking me to make me see some deeper meaning in life or something - what would I choose to get rid of in that dire situation?

The idea: each week, pick 10 things that are unnecessary to the continuation of my life and toss them in the trash. They could be big or small, like when playing strip poker and choosing to take off the watch or a sock so my shirt doesn't have to come off. But eventually, just like strip poker, I'd get down to the bare essentials. Every week, I'd get closer and closer to the smallest set of things I really needed.

Steps
1) Look around my room full of unpacked boxes.
2) Pick 10 items as I see them.
3) Throw them in the trash. No excuses.
4) Repeat the next week, moving to the various drawers of junk I have.

Enthusiam: Right now, with tons of stuff clogging up my smaller room with no basement to store junk in, it seems like a fantastic idea. I think my enthusiasm will wane as soon as I allow myself to make excuses for the things I keep.

Practicality: Seems incredibly practical, until some time in the future when I look around for something I decided to throw out during this life overhaul excercise. Whoops - there I go making excuses already.

Difficulty: Maybe humans are born hoarders - it's as difficult to let go of things as it is to accumulate them.