Free To Enter Writing Contests Mga Nobela at Kwento

"To exhibit, to sell, to run however you want. Three years fully sponsored." I looked at the flyer again. The submission deadline was printed at the bottom. It was six weeks away. "Is this real?" I asked. "I went last year," he said. "I entered the mixed media category. I did not win but I saw the winner receive the keys to the gallery space in person. It is very real." I folded the flyer carefully and held it in my hand. "You should enter," Andrew said. "You have six weeks. That is enough time to put something serious together if you start now."

, I asked. "Exactly January 24th, next year; provided there are no disturbances and factors that could hinder it. If para venture it's postponed, the organization is going to let us know. Do we understand?" "Yes ma'am" we replied. I could see it that everyone was excited to be chosen for the competition. Mrs. Stella adjusted some files on the table. "So you all have a task. Your poem for entry into the competition is to be submitted before Wednesday, next week. That's exactly six days now. We have to forward it to the organization via their official website. Should I trust you guys to do this?"

“Though, Christina is not taking part in it. What should I do?” “Should I tell Lucy about this?”. He picked up the magazine and bents down to pick it up. Then he checked the entering criteria. “It’s free of cost. As we are looking forward to wonderful art created by one of the most brilliant artists in the world. Only you need to win and climb the ladder. We are here to support your back!”. Suddenly he noticed something else also. The sponsoring company is Bradley enterprises. His throat went dry seeing his dad’s company sponsoring the competition.

the caller said. I was stunned for a moment when I heard his voice because it was Oliver. How did he know my—oh yeah, probably because of Matthew. I immediately stood up. "Yes, speaking," I replied. "I just wanted to ask if you've started writing," he asked in a monotone but polite voice. "Actually, I haven't," I honestly answered. Please end the call. I was pacing back and forth in my small living room. "Please do start writing now because we have already decided to enter your work, Mr. Wright, into a competition that will happen in three weeks from now." Say what? I stopped walking, a competition?

“We’re all here for you. And don’t hesitate to let us know if you need anything—whether it’s support or just a distraction.” “Thanks so much. I’ll certainly keep that in mind.” Kayla smiled, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Of course. And speaking of distractions and opportunities, I’ve got something exciting to show you.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a colorful poster, holding it up for me to see. The poster advertised a city-wide costume-making contest, with details about the event, entry requirements, and a tantalizing grand prize for the winner. “I saw this and thought of you immediately,” Kayla said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “This could be a huge break for

I took a seat beside her and peered into her laptop but the only thing I could make out was ‘Regal Couture Competition’. “After crying on my shoulders for one hour, I'm sure she's okay,” Mel chuckled. “Are you entering for this?” She nods, “Alex convinced me to. It's a competition that gives up and coming designers a chance to work on the big stage. She believes my work is good enough and I should go for it.” “She's right.” “There you go gassing me up too,” Mel laughed. “Fine, I'm entering anonymously though, just in case I don't win.”

'Paragon annual designing contest' I halted, slowly scrolling through my phone. "Paragon is hosting a contest?" I muttered, my eyes scanning through every words displayed on my phone. It was a contest where talented designers upload their designs, and the best design with the highest audience votes wins cash price, dress of the year, and a percent of the sales of the dress. For a second, I thought of giving it a try, but as I scrolled through the number of people that already applied with their work, and some of them being celebrities who had won the contest three times in three years, I lost the spark. Will I even get a chance to win anything?

“Look at this—Painting Fest! Right here in the city next weekend.” I gave her a flat look. “Rhea… you’ve seen my inbox. Does this look like the face of someone who wants to fest anything?” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop. This isn’t about work. It’s about you doing something you actually love before you turn into a tragic couch statue. And before you say no—” she shoved the flyer into my hands, “—they’re offering a cash prize.” “Uh-huh,” she said, plopping herself down next to me and spreading the flyer across my lap like it was a treasure map. “Anonymous entries, live showcase, cash prize. A whole hundred dollars for first place.”

"Relax. If you faint, I'm not carrying you." As they walked, Sylvia suddenly brightened too suddenly. "Oh! Speaking of imagination, there is this writing competition opening in two days." She tucked her hair behind her ear proudly, “Huge prize. Big publishers watching. Since Elara and I are collaborating, we could submit something. It would be a perfect chance for us to shine.” Fallon barely heard her. She was still trembling from earlier. Sylvia continued anyway. “I’ll tell her about it tonight. We could win if she focuses. I mean… if she really gives it her all.”

I could feel the determination rising within me, and I clenched my fists, pushing aside the nagging questions about the media. “Oh, his birthday is coming up, isn't it?” Pierre's voice broke through my thoughts, his words pulling me back into the moment. “That would be the perfect time for you to submit your entry as well.” I paused, my brush hovering over the half-finished painting. “Submit my entry?” I echoed, squinting at him in confusion. “What do you mean? Where would I be submitting it?” Pierre raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Right, I forgot you don't have your phone with you right now. There's a contest happening in the city,”