Many writers have shared their thoughts with the public:

"There is something delicious about writing the first words of a story. You never quite know where they'll take you." - Beatrix Potter

"The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say." - Anaïs Nin

"Sharing your writing, being enlarged by others' writing, is what makes you feel famous." - Gretchen Bernabei

"Writing is not an amusing occupation. It is a combination of ditch-digging, mountain-climbing, treadmill and childbirth." - Edna Ferber

"Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing." - Ben Franklin

"One must be drenched in words, literally soaked in them, to have the right ones to form themselves into the proper pattern at the right moment." - Hart Crane

"There are three rules for writing. Unfortunately, no one can agree what they are." - W. Somerset Maugham

Text Boxing

Hector’s huge frame loomed over James as they circled each other. Hector threw shade at him across the space between them, instantly shrouding the scene in darkness. This will be an interesting match, thought James as he squinted into the murk. He quickly lit the match, its orange glow cutting through the inky gloom in time to glimpse Hector making a frantic lunge towards him. James felt his teeth clatter together as Hector’s elbow connected with his chin, sending him crashing painfully onto his back. He groaned, turned his head sideways and spat blood onto the ground. Hector stood over him, his fists drawing small circles in the air. James used his own hand to draw a sword and stabbed him in the calf. As Hector cried out in pain, James rolled to his left and leapt to his feet. His mouth was throbbing from the hit, so he covered it once, then twice with his hand, so it recovered. Hector was in a blind rage now. Unable to see, he began throwing punches at random. The sickly-sweet liquid stung James’ eye as it blasted him in the face. Punch glasses fell to the ground between the two boys. A few drops of liquid ran into James’ mouth, and a fermented taste triggered the realisation that one of the drinks was spiked. He ducked and felt the spike whiz by, only centimetres above his head. Hector used this time to grab the glasses off the ground and put them on, restoring his vision. He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a typed list titled Battle Strategy. He barked a sinister laugh and brandished the page in front of James’ face.

"You can see by now that my tactics are far superior," he gloated, grinning underneath his ridiculous glasses. He produced a pen and drew a neat tick in the box beside 'gloat’ before returning his gaze to the battlefield. Fear ran down James’ spine, and for the first time he considered the possibility of losing the fight. He knew the next few moments would determine the outcome. If he let Hector get inside his head, it would be over. While Hector read the next step of the Battle Strategy, James crawled through the grass and found the blood he had spat out earlier. He discarded one of the 'o’s, then rearranged the letters before massaging it in his hand. Now feeling bold, he rose and turned to face Hector. His grin wavered as James confidently strode up to him and jabbed a finger at the Battle Strategy.

"Don’t you see it, Hector? The borders of your text are not aligned. They are haphazard and unprofessional."

Hector’s eyes widened as he stared at the page in disbelief.

"Your Battle Strategy is not justified," said James.

Horror spread over Hector’s face and began dripping off his chin. He remained motionless, rooted to the spot, lost without a valid plan of action.

"Looks like I turned your tactics around," smirked James. He triumphantly gobbled down a handful of the TicTacs. Hector was fuming as James munched on the mints.

"But… but look, I’ve already drawn this." He pointed to a tick in the box next to 'Win fight’ on the Battle Strategy.

After clearing the fumes with a wave of his hand, James used sterilised, fine-tipped tweezers to safely remove the tick. Its fat little body was pump with blood when he plopped it down on the grass.

"That’s okay Hector, I’ll just replace that wrong tick with this right cross."

A sonic boom erupted as the blow smashed into Hector’s face from point blank range, shattering the ridiculous glasses. The resulting shock wave drove James back a few paces. When he opened his eyes, there was silence, and he was alone. All that remained where Hector had stood was a few drops of horror and some broken roots poking out of the ground.

With some annoyance, James realised he had punched Hector into next week. He was hoping to wrap up the feud today, but it would now have to wait at least until Monday.

Letting out a sigh, James glanced around for the match he had lit earlier but couldn’t see it anywhere.

"No match," he muttered.