Writing Contests and Kitchen Remodeling

This is the time of year when my petunias get a little stringy and I wait to hear who won the state writing contest. I won once, a couple of years ago, and I wear the jade ring that was the prize on my right index finger. When I wear it, part of me hopes someone will ask where I got it so I can tell them I got it because I was funny.

The piece that won wasn’t funny so much as it was wry and the judge happened to have a thing for wry so I won. There is a lot of happenstance, read luck, in this contest business. But you have to have a decently written piece before luck can do its magic.

I like this contest because there is a quick turn-around and it feels homey, like all the kids in 5th grade entering the newspaper’s Christmas coloring contest. “You don’t have to win, you just have to do your best.” In the case of my writing, I don’t know what my best is. Several essays I wrote in one sitting with no editing were home runs. Others I’ve worked and reworked so much, I’ve forgotten the point of their existence, like why did I want to write this? Often, my attachment is about a couple of sentences or a scene that by itself would be great but doesn’t tell a story. “Kill your darlings” I am instructed but without the darlings, these reworked pieces would be as flat and worn as grandma’s kitchen linoleum.

I should just rip up the floor. That’s what I need to do, just pull up the linoleum and stare at the bare wood for a while.Let the wry rise like perfume from hundred year old boards. Next year.

Meanwhile, I wait to hear the celebrations down the street.