Every now and then I wonder if my writing really cuts it. I know I’m not alone. From what I understand, all writers go through these self-doubts. They wonder, doubt, throw in the towel, pace the floor, read another writer’s words and say, “wow I wish I could write like that!”
To try and reassure myself I try and enter writing competitions. For the most part these are an expensive proposition as there are entry fees, waiting times, the nerves… and so I can’t and don’t enter that many.
For a long time now, I’ve been meaning to enter one or more of Morgen Bailey’s writing competitions. Last month I finally did. I didn’t win. The story that did, is one of those that elicit that response, “I wish I could…”
But, I am pleased to say, that the two entries I submitted received an ‘honourable mention’. For the moment that’s encouraging. I shall soon take one of Morgen’s online courses appropriately on Entering Writing Competitions.
Let’s hope I fare better next time.
The theme was ‘Fireworks’
Story 1: Dinnertime
Ma’s hand outstretched, indicating a dish. So busy talking, scolding, she can’t stop the stream of consciousness flowing from her mouth.
Meals at our home were like that. Ma at the ‘boss’ end of the table, Papa at the head. It must have been the head; guests sat next to him, when they visited or dropped in and were asked to ‘stay, there’s plenty,’ while we were told FHB (Family Hold Back).
Pa, eyes twinkling mischief, reaches across, shakes her hand, says, “Pleased to meet you.”
Ma, dumbstruck, silent.
We laugh, we laugh, until the lights are sparklers, gilding memories.
Story 2: Adamantine Anger
A tiny diamond in a silver ring, it caught the light, like a thousand twinkling stars, or snatched rays of sunlight shattering them into a kaleidoscope, the aching carbon screaming in silent agony at the exquisite pain of its creation. Its fury was a thing distilled – a jinn in a jewel prepared to battle humankind.
She entered the store. The diamond slung its lasso of light; caught her eye. “This one,” she whispered, slipping it on her finger. A facet slashed her thumb, and poison shot into her heart.
“One down” the jinn sniggered; laughter exploding into a myriad lights.