Poetry Writing Contests Novels & Stories

"Nancy, my laptop broke, and I need one for the competition. Please help me. Otherwise, I won't be able to compete, and then I won't be able to pay everyone's tuition." I looked at her coldly. "You don't need to pay my tuition, so why should I help you? There are plenty of people in this class. I'm sure one of them would be happy to lend you one." Someone pulled Wendy over. "Wendy, I'll lend you mine. Don't beg someone so cold and heartless." I just smiled and walked out of the classroom. To be safe, I called my dad. Our company was one of the sponsors of the university's creative writing competition, so I asked him to speak to the organizers and change it to an on-site format with randomly

"This is regarding the poem you wrote for the 'The Pen Is Mightier Than the Sword' contest in grade 8." Bile rose in my throat as memories flooded back. I had poured my heart into that poem. The theme that year had been personal growth, empathy, and anger. I did not want to be reminded of my mother because she had been the subject matter of the poem in question. But hearing Cupid's inquisition about the poem caused a sense of unease to wash over me. How did they even know about that poem? And why were they bringing it up now?

'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?

Publications; Book (Full-Length Poetry Collection) Author of Love, Air (Atmosphere Press – forthcoming in mid-2021), Journals, Magazines & Anthologies (by country/region) ASIA & THE PACIFIC UNITED STATES PHILIPPINES AUSTRALIA SINGAPORE FRANCE ISRAEL PUERTO RICO VIETNAM CAMBODIA GERMANY JAPAN INDIA CHINA MAURITIUS ISLAND HONG KONG MALAYSIA SOUTH KOREA PAKISTAN CANADA BANGLADESH UNITED KINGDOM NATIONAL/REGIONAL WRITERS WORKSHOPS (Creative Writing & Criticism Workshops); AWARDS & RECOGNITION:

said Betty. She unzipped her handbag and took out a flyer Marietta had given her. "Look, this is the competition I'm talking about. It's a short story contest that will be announced to the public in a few days. "However, this contest is a last-minute thing being held in Marietta's honor, so the timing is very rushed. They want submissions next month. "Take a look and see if you want to participate in it. Your short story is only about a few thousand words long anyway."

"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.

Gen said. “I’m all ears!” I said. “Well, remember your entry you wrote on your journal?” she asked. “Which?” I asked her, unsure of which she was talking about. There were many poems in that book hand written by me. “Let me tell a love story.” she answered. “Yeah, what about it?” I asked. “Don’t freak out but Britney submitted your entry to a competition hosted by one of her I*******m followers. It gained recognition and you’ve been given an opportunity to publish for one of the biggest Poet association in America!!” she announced.

“How can we help?” “Student council will be having a poem writing contest at 14, 8 in the morning. That day, Ledger will give you the details, I mean, the scores of every contestant from the 3 judges,” he paused and then he looked at Zyah, “Can you help him, Clarriese?” “Yes, sir. No problem.” “One more thing. Do also the certificates, I’ll just give you the layouts later.” The following week, we are all busy doing our assigned tasks.

I said. He nodded and then reached into the bag he was carrying. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and held it out to me. I took it and unfolded it. It was a flyer, printed on good paper, not the kind people made on a home printer. It had a photo of a large open gallery space at the top and bold text underneath. ARTISTS CONNECT. ANNUAL ART EXHIBITION AND COMPETITION. I read further down. It was an open competition for artists at any level. You submitted a piece or a series of pieces. A panel of judges reviewed them. There were different categories—Painting, sculpture, mixed media, digital.

I quickly scanned the papers—it was actually a solid idea. We were the ones to hold the workshop while they handled the contest afterward. The winners would have their work published by Arrow Publishing, with their names on it, and even a chance to be scouted as new writers. I looked at Lathan. “Have you seen this?” I asked. He shook his head. “I’m actually waiting for you. If you like it, I’ll sign it.” Kin and Enzo cleared their throats while Sierra covered her mouth to hide her laugh.