Reedsy Writing Contest Novels & Stories

Sometimes the guys can be a bit too much but Miss Johnson is always there to keep them in check. Once the class had settled down, we sat eagerly waiting for the day to begin. I was nervous about my essay because I wrote it out of my crush and desire for someone that is forbidden. "As you all know, the essay that you have written has to be submitted today. If you haven't completed that essay yet, you have plenty of time in class. This essay is part of the competition and it counts towards your grade. When you win the competition, it will be in a local magazine in a column that is catered for creative writing essays and that will also help you into getting into selected colleges." she announce

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I could hear him because it is not that far from where I am standing right now. I couldn't move. I was completely surprised by what he just did. He didn't forget that I like vanilla-flavored ice cream. "Your treat! Your treat! Your treat!" the crowd screamed repeatedly. Dale just grabbed the 1st place award in the feature writing category at the University's Power of Pen workshop. More than 500 aspiring writers joined the said workshop from different universities and Dale secured the 1st spot. I couldn't stop myself from joining their cheers. I'm so happy for him.

Scarlett walked up to me and asked, "Reed, what kind of works are you going to work on for the design competition?" "I won't participate in it." I answered with my head buried in my lunch. She blinked her eyes and looked at me in disbelief, "What? You won't participate in the contest?" "Yeah" "But there is a bonus. According to hearsay, the highest reward seemed to be at 400,000 dollars. Everyone in the company seems to want a share in that." Scarlett seemed to be unconvinced by my words. I looked up at her and gave her a wry smile, "Designers of so many companies and studios will participate in the competition. Among them, there are many hidden talents. Even if I use all my skills, I don't

'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?

Before I can say a word, she sneaks up behind me and peeks at my phone screen. “Naya, you did it!” is the next thing I heat and she wraps her arms around me from behind, hugging me tight. The news becomes the main discussion at breakfast. I rush my food fast while Reilly and her bestie talk about other things. Twenty minutes later, I'm at the office. As I already expected, some faces are cheerful today and some are gloomy. The contest is organized by top fashion designers in the world. Not everyone who uses a sits in front of a sewing machine meets their standards.

Her fingers hovered above the trackpad, eyes fixed on the progress bar inching across her screen. Upload: 96%… 97%… 98%… The faintest smile touched her lips. She had asked Mark to rewrite the article three times, ensuring every word hit where it hurt most. The title gleamed at the top of the draft like a blade ready to strike: “The Untold Past of Ashley Kingsley: Brighton’s Hidden Scandal.” As the upload bar reached 99%, Reese raised her glass to the air, giving herself a toast for a job well done, then leaned back and took a sip of wine. Her nails tapped softly against the glass.

On closer inspection, I recognised that crest. I dropped the jewel I was working on and reached for the envelope-The Global Fashion Foundation. They finally sent word. They had a contest three weeks ago. I submitted an outfit—a dress and a set of matching jewels. I’d been waiting for word from them since I submitted. It finally arrived. I hope I win. My hand trembled as I slit the envelope open. Dear CJ Styles, You are cordially invited as one of the finalists of the Global Emerging Designers Contest… I jumped to my squealing loudly, and my assistant rushed in.

Richard’s sickening, insatiable greed and Camilia’s venomous, burning hatred swirled in her mind, over and over like a broken record, like knives digging repeatedly into old wounds but beneath the disgust, a profound sense of clarity settled over her and she would tear down heaven and earth to reclaim what her parents had left for her. Suddenly a melodic ping shattered the silence of the room. Ruby blinked, snapping out of her trance. Her gaze flicked toward her desk, where her laptop sat wide open. With a slow, deliberate stride, she walked over to the desk and pulled the laptop closer. The sender's address instantly made her breath hitch,’The International Crown Art Competition Committee’.

"Ah okay, just this one time, Mey." "Thank you!" I smiled. He gave me a brief nod and continued to explain our task, "At the end of the year, each of you shall complete a 30,000 words novella. We would make it a contest, and just like any competition, there shall be a winner. Our English teacher, Mr. Rodriguez, an editor from our local paper, and I would be the judge." Koltin seemed very interested. I watched him eagerly raise his hand before asking, "What do we get if we win?"