I came back from holiday on Monday to find this month's issue of Writing Magazine in our post box. On flicking through, I discovered I had been shortlisted in their Real Time Short Story Competition, which was a nice surprise.
I'm particularly pleased because the story I submitted was science-fiction, which they don't often reward, unless it's a specifically sci-fi themed competition.
The Photo Republic of London have launched a new project, called Urban Flash, which is taking place over the next year. It involves text and photographic prompts, which members can respond to either by submitting a photograph or a piece of flash fiction.
I entered the Warm-Up Prompt Competition, submitting a short piece based on the following prompt:
"I thought I knew that part of the city like the back of my hand, but I turned a corner and..."
I went to the launch party for the project on Wednesday 15 March - and was announced as the winner in the fiction category!
Back in November, I entered a competition to have one of my stories recorded by a company called Soundwork. I forgort all about it until this week, when I was tracking my outstanding submissions. I spotted a note I'd left for myself, saying I would need to check their website for the results - and, lo and behold, my story was shortlisted!
So, it just goes to show, you should always keep track of where you've submitted stories, and make sure to follow up on the response.
The very day I pretty much decided to abandon my novel as a 'useful first experiment', I got an email telling me I've been long-listed in the UK Novel Writing Competition!
Out of 3,112, mine has been selected along with 249 others to go forwards to the next stage of the competition.
So, yay! I'll find out if it makes the short-list in March. In the meantime, perhaps I should put the novel back on my list of projects for later in the year...
This month's issue of Writing Magazine arrived in the post today, and I was shortlisted in the Tight Situation Short Story Competition!
I'm particularly pleased with this result, because the story I entered went through a development process I'm planning to cultivate more often in my writing this year. I worked on it in several stages, giving my subconscious crew plenty of time and space to come up with ideas. Then, I sent it to a couple of people for feedback, and revised the story further, based on their comments.
So, it's good to know the process works and makes my work more likely to succeed.
I wait. Formless yet conscious, just beyond the edge of reality. I know I have a role to fulfil. The passage of time has no meaning for me yet, but my time will come. Nothing can remain static forever. All things change and, when the change comes, I will be ready.
There is a shift in the ether. Even in the nameless void, I can feel it. Something is stirring. A curiosity and a desire that may lead to my release. The potentiality alters my form and my nature, bringing me closer to being. With it, comes an impatience that has me pushing at the boundaries of creation. My sense of imminent freedom builds.
I have a purpose. My achievements will be great, so great as to dwarf any that have come before. My impact upon the universe will be so all-consuming, so catastrophic, that nothing will ever be the same again. My presence will change the very nature of existence for all creatures that currently, or will ever, walk the earth.
Far beyond the reach of my senses, another great entity works towards its own ends. I cannot assist from my prison, but I know those ends will result in my birth. I yearn to influence the outcome, though I am confident it is inevitable. What little knowledge I possess in my non-corporeal state tells me this is so. A seed has been sown, an idea brought into existence. One little thought, one small question. That is all it takes to start the process.
And yet, I want desperately to be involved. I am tired of waiting. I want to take my place in the grand tapestry and start weaving my own part of it. What happens at this juncture will be debated and talked about for all eternity, and I want an integral role in that tale when it is told. My greatness deserves adulation, and will inspire awe and terror for every generation to come.
At last, the tempter is victorious. The fruit is taken, tasted. Knowledge bursts forth into a mind ripe for conquest. As a child unwittingly walks into danger during play, the new sinners revel in their desires without thought for the consequences. And those children open the door and welcome me in. I ride out into the world and doom follows in my wake. I am their punishment for disobedience, I am the price paid for their sin, I am the end of all things.
I am Death.