Can You Recommend Short Story Competitions For New Writers?

Sometimes the website itself is the clue. If the contest page is plastered with past winner testimonials gushing about the 'incredible, detailed feedback,' that's a good sign. If it only boasts about the prize money, be skeptical. Testimonials are marketing, of course, but writers are a cynical bunch. If multiple people independently mention the quality of the notes, there's probably truth to it. We're not easily impressed by fluff.

Be wary of contests that accept entries year-round with rolling deadlines. They can sometimes feel like a perpetual money-making machine rather than a curated event with a defined judging period. A clear open/close date and a promised announcement date are signs of good organization. I prefer contests that only open for a month or two. It creates a sense of occasion and suggests all entries will be considered as a batch, judged against each other, not just against some abstract standard as they trickle in.

Alice Munro. Any Alice Munro story The New Yorker ever published. She makes decades pass in a paragraph, she jumps timelines, she understands the weight of the roads not taken. If you want to learn how to manage time and scope in a short story, there is no better—and frankly, no more intimidating—teacher.

Flash fiction markets are a great way to start. 'Microfiction Monday Magazine' publishes stories under 100 words. The constraint forces incredible creativity. While the pay is token, it's a fun challenge and a quick publication credit. There's also '50-Word Stories', which is exactly what it sounds like. These ultra-short forms teach you precision. Getting a few of these published can boost your confidence and help you build a writing habit. They often have quick turnaround times, so you get the satisfaction of completion and publication faster than with longer pieces. It's a good training ground.

Getting litromance short stories into print (or pixels) is a bit like courting: you need patience, attention to detail, and the willingness to show up even when you think you’ve already been rejected. I spend a lot of time reading across genres—literary journals and contemporary romance—to know how others blend emotional stakes with stylistic finesse. That reading habit helps me spot markets that lean toward lush, character-driven romance rather than genre tropes. Journals like 'The New Yorker', 'Granta', and 'Tin House' will sometimes publish pieces that lean romantic but are driven by literary voice; places like 'Electric Literature', 'Narrative Magazine', and 'The Rumpus' often have space for shorter, emotionally resonant fiction that could be a perfect fit for litromance. Knowing the tone of each outlet saves you the heartbreak of misdirected submissions. Once the story is ready, submission mechanics matter. I treat each submission like a small project: format to the journal’s specs (usually 12pt serif font, double-spaced, one-inch margins), include a short cover letter—two lines max: title, word count, a one-sentence bio—and follow their manuscript guidelines exactly (paste vs. attach, simultaneous-submission policy, etc.). Use submission managers like Submittable when available, and keep a simple spreadsheet with submission dates, responses, and rights agreements. If a place allows simultaneous submissions, note that and withdraw promptly on acceptance. For pricing and rights, be careful: small presses often buy non-exclusive first North American serial rights for modest fees; read contracts and don’t sign away book or audio rights without understanding the implications. Contests and themed anthologies can be excellent waypoints—sometimes a good anthology showcases litromance specifically, and prizes bring exposure. Beyond submissions, build a small ecosystem around your work. Find beta readers who love both literary fiction and romance so you get feedback on voice and emotional arc. Join a local or online workshop to sharpen scenes that hinge on intimacy rather than plot. Read craft books on dialogue, interiority, and tension, and keep submitting—the ratio of rejections to publications is brutal but normal. If traditional markets don’t bite, consider self-publishing a short collection via 'Kindle Direct Publishing' or running a serialized piece on a newsletter platform; both let you gather readers and proof of concept. Personally, the thrills of a first acceptance still feel electric and remind me why I keep sending stories out into the world.

I’d advise any new writer to try a mix: submit one story to the dream market, another to a mid-tier paying market, and post a third on a free site for engagement. This way, you’re not putting all your emotional eggs in one basket. The instant gratification from readers online can fuel you through the long, silent waits from professional magazines. And you never know—a story that flops in submissions might find a rabid fanbase on AO3 or Quotev.

The potential for a nice, clean publication credit. Before you have a novel or a collection of published work, a short story credit from a reputable contest is a solid line on your writing CV. It’s an objective third party saying your work has merit. When you later query agents or submit to magazines, that line shows you’re serious, you can finish pieces, and your writing has passed a judging panel. It’s a foundational building block for a writing career.