This week I bit my pride and sent a short and a flash stories to an international contest.
This Christmas as I lay in bed, waiting for my husband to wake while thinking of the good fortune I meat, I decided that I should thank my mother, for the spirit she bred in me. Thus I wrote a short story revealing my resilience to tragedy. To my fascination two pages were enough to watter my father's eyes.
Thereafter, when the news meat me that the publisher I applied my book for was a vanity-publisher, I realised that I should sell myself before my book. No serious agent or publisher will give a proper chance to my book if I am no one anyone ever heard of.
I found the perfect contest though it might be way out of my league, but since the aim is also to recognise my league I filled myself of virtual courage and put myself out there. The contest had three categories, one that fitted my short story perfectly and another that sounded like an amazing challenge, the flash story. They consider for this contest purpose that a flash story is bellow 500 words.
-"Challenge accepted!" - I had to free myself from description, for it extends the action beyond the limits, and I discovered that focusing on the story gave it such an extraordinary power.
So now I am not hoping for one story to make the best thirteen of the world, but also a second to make the best five. My nerves won't last and I will try focusing elsewhere, on my second book. I don't know when the results will be revealed, but the prize is awarded in October. I shall prevail non the less!
Cross your fingers for me. If you know of any contest for new writers let me know. :-)