On Writing Contests and too Many Comments

A word of warning about entering writing contests: You may be wasting your time and money.

I entered two stories in at least seven contests this year. The same story scored a near-perfect 99 out of 100 in one contest and a measly 65 out of 100 in another.

Judging, like an editor or agent’s opinion, is subjective. And judges, like the general public, come with many different preconceived ideas – not all of them based on actual knowledge. For example, one judge said I should have the female main character in my story – a reporter – wear pants, not a skirt, “because,” the judge scribbled on my manuscript, “reporters usually wear pants.” Mmmm, is that so? I used to be a reporter. Three or four days out of five, I wore skirts, about the same percentage as the other women reporters in our newsroom.

Case closed.

Some judges are just plain ignorant. One penned at the end of my first chapter, “You should try writing this in first person, it might read better.”
My rebuttal is, HELLO, I wrote it in first person. The opening hook is: “I pull up to the crime scene, step down from my rusty yellow truck, readjust my thong, and curse my best friend, July, for talking me into buying the damn underwear.” Can’t get much more first person than that, now can we?

Then there are the nit-picky judges. The ones who seem to tear apart every word and phrase the writer chooses to use. Such as the one judge(the only one out of about a dozen who judged the same story) who had issue with the word “rusty” in rusty yellow truck. “Is the truck rusted?” she asked, “Or is it a rusty yellow color?”

Sigh.

My advice? Go ahead and enter contests, especially if you don’t belong to a critique group and are looking for comments. I complain here, but I did get some useful gems out of the comments too.

I have several good critique partners, so the comments are not the main reasons I enter contests. Oh heavens, no. I enter the contests, and fork out the $20 bucks or so, in hopes of winning and getting my story before the eyes of an agent or editor who I’m interested in working with. You know, the one who will look at my manuscript, voraciously read it from start to finish without so much as pausing to sip her cooling latte, wipe a tear from the corner of her eye as she finishes, and exclaim, “Who is this writer? I must have her book.”

So, I'm off to write out that next $20 check and pop another try in the mail.

Wish me rusty-yellow-first-person luck.