Enter Writing Contest Novels & Stories

“The congress is coming; only five days left.” I nodded, handily closing the calendar. "I've been wanting to talk to you about this too." I sat on the bed, letting the tears roll down my chest muscles. She looked at me suspiciously. "What is going on?" "I'll cross your name out of the contest; you don't have to enter," I said casually. Her face froze, and she frowned. “Impossible; if I withdraw from the competition, what about Evelyn and Roger? And… the important thing is that everyone in the legal age group must participate; if you are, people will criticize you.”

' My fingers hovered on the entry key but I held myself back from pressing it. What would I submit? I hadn't even drawn anything in weeks, not since the whole divorce situation cropped up and the mask I draped over my marriage began to fall. The theme for this year's competition was Rebirth. How poetic. It was likened to the belief I had for myself, the hope I had that my future could be reinvited into a life lived solely for myself. Still, my mind held doubts and ultimately, I scrolled away from the entry key and down to the list of co-organizers where I spotted Alaric's name and brand.

It was a notification from the class group chat with good news. [Congratulations to Ellie Wagner! Her writing “My Mom” won first prize in a local competition and has been shortlisted for the state competition. Please take note, Mrs. Wagner!] That’s great. My writing won an award. I revised that writing so many times and poured so much of my heart into it. It was filled with my most genuine feelings for Mom. The group chat was instantly flooded with congratulations. [Mrs. Wagner, you’re amazing! How did you raise such a well-rounded child?]

“That’s so amazing. I don’t know what to say.” “Say yes. You never know. Your story could win the prize.” Huh. “Okay.” I give in with a laugh. “That’s awesome. Go ahead and enter it.” I can’t believe this is happening. It still feels so surreal. “Whatever the outcome of the contest, this will be a nice feat to add to your resume. Also, about that recommendation letter you asked for, whenever you need it, feel free to come to me. I’m sure we can work something out.”

Then there was a bold writing by the side, which read; Writing contest for High school Students. Winner of the contest gets a free trip to France. You must be between the age sixteen and nineteen to be able to participate in this contest. Deadline: 26th of July, 2020 Visit: elixirwritingcontest@gmail.com to register for the contest and to enquire for more information. "How am I even supposed to participate in a writing contest when I can't even update my story during the week? Besides do you think parents would even let me go to France by myself?"

"Your stories have the power to touch hearts, to inspire others. Don't let fear hold you back from sharing that gift with the world." With her words echoing in my mind, I took a deep breath and made up my mind. I would enter the writing contest, not for the sake of winning, but for the joy of seeing my words come alive on paper and reaching out to others. Days turned into nights as I poured my heart and soul into crafting the story for the contest. I spent countless hours refining each sentence, polishing every word until they shimmered with emotion and authenticity. The characters on the page became real to me, living and breathing with every turn of phrase.

she said. "A writing contest? No, I didn't see it, but I love contests. I enter them all the time. I never win, but you have to keep trying, right? I read that a lot of famous writers have their books rejected twenty or thirty times before they're finally published. And you definitely can't win if you don't enter." Lucy shrugged and opened her math book. "It was nice of you to tell me, Jane. I'll go and check it out."

My shift will end soon. And I still I have to finish my final draft for the writing contest! It’s due next week. I thought. I joined the “Writer's Luck” contest to win $700. Not only that, you'll be an automatic member of an elite book club called “The Golden Phoenix” wherein you will meet many personalities and big people. Also, this club could aid you find a sponsor or a publisher to publish your writing. And I think this is a tremendous opportunity to pay off the debts of my aunt. I hope luck will be in my favour.

He'd ask me questions that had me Googling at midnight. Ms. Beck smiled. "He's going to need enrichment. Additional work. Maybe a mentor farther down the road. I'd love to get your permission to submit some of his work to a citywide creative writing contest." "Yes," I said immediately. "Absolutely." I walked home, feeling like I was floating. The street noise was the same—blaring horns, bikes rattling over potholes, laughter from a convenience store radio. But the world had changed. Lighter. Brighter.

I ask, starring into her dark brown eyes. "Well, the fiction competition has a specific topic." She says, getting up and walking over to a filing cabinet. Miss Edwards is about 5' 5" tall and very well proportioned, with a thin waist, flat stomach and a tight, curvy ass. Her ass gets as much attention as her tits when the guys are discussing what they'd like to do with her. "The subject this year is ethics and morals. You'd have to write a short story with a main character who is struggling with a moral dilemma." She says, handing me the entry form and rules. I guess I know the subject pretty well, but I'm not sure I could submit a story about my current moral dilemmas. "Would you be able to