Hello again, It’s been both a productive and frustrating writing month for me so far. I’ve had several rejections including my fastest-ever one, with a turnaround time of just 10 minutes (horror writers will likely be able to guess which publication this was). But my
I don't know how you have the patience and stamina to trawl through these competitions, make such comprehensive notes on them/the winners, and then regurgitate your findings for your audience here - I am in awe! AND you wrote two new pieces to submit - wow.
I always get a little 'buzz' when I see a competition I'd like to enter, but unlike you, once I start reading the past winners I lose faith in my own writing and think 'what's the point?' - especially if there's an entry fee attached.
I still remember the year I cam second in the Yeovil Literary Prize (2016) - it was (and remains) the only time I ever received any kind of payment for my writing - and the euphoria was second to none (see what I did there?). And so many writerly friends told me this would be my springboard; that now I'd achieved these dizzy heights, my dream was virtually in the bag.
It wasn't, of course, and the farty noise of my euphoria deflating from my metaphorical balloon still haunts me.
I'd written that story in a kind of formulaic fashion as I'd been studying the short story at undergrad and thought I'd give some of them a test run by entering competitions that year. I was shortlisted and longlisted for a couple and even went to one of the ceremonies in case my name was called, naively not realising the winner would have already been contacted - duh! - and remember that year as being the one I thought I might actually have a chance of being published one day. I knew at the time I should have framed the cheque. I'm sure I have a photo of it somewhere as 'proof'.
Off on a tangent, apologies, but thank you SO SO MUCH again for such a rewarding read!
Oh, I feel this so much. Especially what you say about everyone telling you it's a springboard. I recognise that I definitely have a tendency to think that each competition I enter could be the 'big break', even though I know that the reality is more likely to be that you get a series of small breaks and in the meantime have to keep slogging, keep getting rejected. But the high you describe from coming second in a prize is just so potent and tempting, of course I don't want to give up on seeking it.
I'm fascinated to know what kind of thing you did to make the story 'formulaic', and did you enjoy writing it still? Do you think that prize-winning stories tend to follow a very similar type of pattern most of the time?
Thanks again for being a reader - I often don't know if anyone at all will care when I write these so it's amazing to know someone is getting something out of it.
I wrote the short story (the one that came second in the Yeovil Lit Prize) using the "Three Ps Principle". PLOT: A baby born in mysterious circumstances PLACE: An airport and PERSON: A caretaker who talks to invisible things, so it centred on this older guy who was a day away from retiring from being a caretaker at an airport and on his rounds, finds an abandoned newborn baby in the disabled toilets. While he's wondering what to do about it, his (dead) wife appears in the mirrors and talks to him. The ending is ambiguous: he wraps the baby up carefully and tucks it away on the shelf of his trolley, leaving the reader wondering his decision is. And yes, I loved writing it - it felt freeing actually, not drawing on my own experiences for once.
Another fabulous post, Alys!
I don't know how you have the patience and stamina to trawl through these competitions, make such comprehensive notes on them/the winners, and then regurgitate your findings for your audience here - I am in awe! AND you wrote two new pieces to submit - wow.
I always get a little 'buzz' when I see a competition I'd like to enter, but unlike you, once I start reading the past winners I lose faith in my own writing and think 'what's the point?' - especially if there's an entry fee attached.
I still remember the year I cam second in the Yeovil Literary Prize (2016) - it was (and remains) the only time I ever received any kind of payment for my writing - and the euphoria was second to none (see what I did there?). And so many writerly friends told me this would be my springboard; that now I'd achieved these dizzy heights, my dream was virtually in the bag.
It wasn't, of course, and the farty noise of my euphoria deflating from my metaphorical balloon still haunts me.
I'd written that story in a kind of formulaic fashion as I'd been studying the short story at undergrad and thought I'd give some of them a test run by entering competitions that year. I was shortlisted and longlisted for a couple and even went to one of the ceremonies in case my name was called, naively not realising the winner would have already been contacted - duh! - and remember that year as being the one I thought I might actually have a chance of being published one day. I knew at the time I should have framed the cheque. I'm sure I have a photo of it somewhere as 'proof'.
Off on a tangent, apologies, but thank you SO SO MUCH again for such a rewarding read!
Oh, I feel this so much. Especially what you say about everyone telling you it's a springboard. I recognise that I definitely have a tendency to think that each competition I enter could be the 'big break', even though I know that the reality is more likely to be that you get a series of small breaks and in the meantime have to keep slogging, keep getting rejected. But the high you describe from coming second in a prize is just so potent and tempting, of course I don't want to give up on seeking it.
I'm fascinated to know what kind of thing you did to make the story 'formulaic', and did you enjoy writing it still? Do you think that prize-winning stories tend to follow a very similar type of pattern most of the time?
Thanks again for being a reader - I often don't know if anyone at all will care when I write these so it's amazing to know someone is getting something out of it.
I wrote the short story (the one that came second in the Yeovil Lit Prize) using the "Three Ps Principle". PLOT: A baby born in mysterious circumstances PLACE: An airport and PERSON: A caretaker who talks to invisible things, so it centred on this older guy who was a day away from retiring from being a caretaker at an airport and on his rounds, finds an abandoned newborn baby in the disabled toilets. While he's wondering what to do about it, his (dead) wife appears in the mirrors and talks to him. The ending is ambiguous: he wraps the baby up carefully and tucks it away on the shelf of his trolley, leaving the reader wondering his decision is. And yes, I loved writing it - it felt freeing actually, not drawing on my own experiences for once.