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So many much hope for seconds

I've placed in my first contest..... I've received my first prize-money check.....I've had my first interview...... and all of this from one small, 741-word flash fiction piece, Charon's Lament.

Had I known when I was writing and re-writing what I thought I would never be able to shave down below the 750-word max---that the piece and contest I almost gave up on---would land a 2nd place win, and on-line publication, I might have cursed my wordy sentences and my befuddled brain a little less.

There was a point, somewhere in the middle of one of those sleepless nights where I almost said, to hell with it. I almost tore my red-inked pages to shreds, almost slammed my laptop shut caring not to save whatever I had just typed, almost flopped back onto my bed--relishing the sour mood of defeat, which would have been far easier to endure. Almost. Almost.

What it was that kept me going, I don't know if I'll ever know. It certainly wasn't confidence in my writing ability--- I hadn't had and still don't have enough out there to convince me to submit based on my ability. It wasn't anyone's direct influence in submitting to this particular contest. I do have the supportive love of wonderful friends that prod me to continue, but none were aware that I contemplated entering this contest.

There was nothing specific that persuaded me to go ahead and enter, just like there was nothing specific that almost persuaded me to go ahead and accept defeat.

Funny how the duality of one's brain can snap back and forth so effortlessly. It's just as easy to listen to one side of your own argument as it is to listen to the other side.

What made my courageous side win out that night, I'll probably never know....but, I'm very glad it did win out. Now that I've had my first taste of what being a real writer feels like, I very much would like to fill my plate again. One small taste is never enough.


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