Categories
LGBTQ Fiction Paris Short Story

A Short Story for My Readers –

Here’s a short story about a lesbian couple taking a spontaneous trip to Paris in the midst of a crisis. It won 3rd place in a recent short story contest.

Paris at Sunset and Into the Night

A new beginning, she said. A chance to reconnect. To say we needed one was more than a little misleading. We’ve never been closer. I was more than willing, however, to accept Annie’s reasoning on calling it a new beginning on our year instead of on our lives. It’s only early June and I’m ready to pack this year away and never look back on it. When Annie mentioned Paris, it took me three seconds to say yes.

And now we’re here and I’m trying my best not to regret our spontaneous decision. We’ve left so much chaos back home, I find it difficult to focus on anything else.

“Remember our first trip here?” Annie says. We’re holding hands and standing in the middle of the bridge closest to the Eiffel Tower. It’s where we come at sunset to see the sun turn the Seine into a river of liquid gold just moments before the tower bursts into life with its spectacular light-show. “Remember how we didn’t know about the lights? How we both gasped in disbelief as it began?”

“Yeah,” I say, squeezing her hand a little tighter. “It was pure magic. You never get first times like that ever again, though, do you?”

“Nonsense, Margo,” Annie says with a hint of laughter. “Shame on your pessimism. Just you wait. It’s almost time. Don’t you remember?”

The sun begins to sink behind the buildings in the distance. I don’t feel the joy I felt the first time. There’s too much weighing on me. The first time, we were young. Invincible. And relatively new to each other. It seems like a millennium ago now. Though we’ve been back since, I’ve never been to Paris bearing such a burden as the one I now carry. This time, it’s different. Tainted.

“Our first time was over forty years ago, Annie. You can’t remember to take the garbage out. Besides, I’m almost certain you’re mis-remembering the lights. They didn’t start until sometime in the eighties. Our first trip here was in 1977.”

“For the Marche des Fiertés LGBT.” Annie turns to me and her smile is more than I can bear. “First one. Of course I remember it, Margo. I’ll never forget it. We were warriors.”

“There were no lights that first time. Or, at least no light show. Not like they have now.”

“Semantics,” Annie says. “First trip, first trip with the lights. Whichever. You knew what I meant.”

I did. And it’s not the first time I’ve called her on things. I can’t get away from myself these days. All I do is nitpick and whine.

“Let’s just enjoy the lights, shall we? Then we can head back to the flat before it gets too late.”

“We have all the time in the world, sweetie,” Annie says, her voice dreamy with misguided optimism. With lies. “No need to rush the evening away.”

Time has recently become the only thing in the world we do not have enough of. I turn to say something, but Annie puts a finger to my lips. “Ut tut tut. Don’t spoil the moment. You promised.”

Another thing I hate about myself of late. I keep making and breaking promises. There’s no way I can keep them all. One of us needs to be realistic. One of us needs to take this seriously and see it for what it is.

I relent, for her sake. I turn back to the view of the river and try to enjoy the way the sun’s rays melt into the golden chop of the gentle current. Just as I turn back, a big Bateaux Mouches passes under the bridge and comes into view below us. Voices from excited tourists on the top deck rise up to greet us. One of them catches my gaze and waves up at me. I return the wave and call out a quick, “Hello.”

Soon all heads on the open deck of the boat turn upwards and everyone waves. Annie’s smile blooms anew and she practically jumps for joy as she returns their greetings.

“See, Margo,” Annie says as the din of greetings dies down. The boat stops in the near distance to give the tourists a premium view of the upcoming light-show. I’m sure they paid a ridiculous premium for the vantage point. “Magic happens in this spot. It’s our spot, here. Our Paris.”

“I love you, Annie Willis. All of you. Completely.”

“What brought that on, sweetie?” Annie says. “Those are the first kind words you’ve said to me since we got off the plane. This is not like you.”

“Oh, please, Annie,” I say. I cringe because I know she’s right. But I don’t know how to calm down, take things in stride. “Just shut up and tell me you love me back. I’m war-torn and tired. I’m trying my best to navigate this landmine on your terms.”

“I’d give you the world if I could, Margo Wright,” Annie says. She winks and pulls a bottle of champagne from the grocery bag she’s been carrying since she arrived back at the flat and told me we were going for a walk down by the Seine. Before I have a chance to react, she hauls out two plastic wine glasses. “It was true when I fell in love with your dumb ass forty-three years ago, and it’s true today.”

I take the glasses from her as she sets the bag against the railing of the bridge and makes to open the champagne.

“Why are you the one who always gets to be so full of surprises?” I say. “I swear.”

“Because I really do love you,” Annie says. This has become a constant reply to this type of question. She’s as predictable as she is full of surprises. It’s what I like most about her, what drew me to her. She was home, only different. Better. “And you, on the other hand, are only sticking around for a good time.”

She couldn’t possibly be any further from the truth. It was here in Paris that I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this crazy woman. Back at that first Marche des Fiertés LGBT. Looking back at pictures, two things were obvious from that first trip we ever took together. One, the seventies would mock us from afar for the rest of our lives. Perms, flares and day-glo lipstick do not age well. And two, the way we looked at each other in those pictures. Fists raised to the sky in revolt and reverence, arms wrapped around one another as though we were afraid we would float away if we didn’t hold on. Those pictures scream love. Undeniably.

“Shut up and pour,” I say, holding the glasses out in anticipation. The cork shoots off and into the air above us. It unexpectedly arcs out over the river and plunges into its current. Annie covers her mouth, which is frozen in an O of shocked exclamation.

“Oops,” she says. There is laughter in her eyes. It is there always, come what may. I wish I could learn to take things in stride like she does. You would think some of her positivity would have rubbed off on me after so many years together. I seem to have learned nothing.

Annie fills both glasses and sets the bottle down beside the shopping bag. As she takes her glass and raises it into the last of the dying sunset, she says, “To us! To how far Marche des Fiertés LGBT and all the other marches have come, and to us! We’ve had such a great life, Margo. We’ve seen so many wonderful moments. Like the city of lights, we are immortal. To us. Forever.”

I bite my tongue. I have to.

“To us, baby,” I say, choking back tears as the solemnity of the moment does its best to smother me in its grip.

Our glasses find each other and offer a faint dull plastic click as they meet. Someone from the boat sees our raised glasses and offers up a hoot into the relative silence. This is followed by a growing round of applause as the rest of the tourists spot our toast and join in on the celebration, even though they have no idea how somber the moment is between us.

Or maybe they have the right idea.

For the entire two months since her diagnosis, I’ve been fluctuating between gratefulness and despair…thankfulness and hostility. I’ve always been the frugal one, the level-headed one, the pessimist, the ballast keeping Annie’s exuberance from floating us away like balloons on a trade-wind to someplace more exotic and unpredictable. I’m Debbie Downer to her Mary Poppins.

I almost said no the other night when she whispered, “Let’s go to Paris,” as I began to doze off. It was out of the blue and she caught me just before my final plunge into another night of bad dreams and restless sleep. Perhaps being caught off guard is what saved me this time.

Even though it took me mere seconds to say yes, the no was the thing that came immediately to my lips. I pushed back against it and banished it away, forcing it back down my throat as the yes rushed out. I have a long history of saying no and it’s a history I can no longer get back. I can’t bear to think of the missed opportunities I shot down for one insignificant reason or another.

We sip our champagne even though I have no idea what it is I’m celebrating.

“We saw the world change around us, pretty girl,” Annie says. “We have time to see more and you know it.”

“I’m scared, Annie.”

“You know me, Margo,” she says. “Nobody likes a challenge like I do. We have lots of work to do back home. I’m stubborn enough to stay long enough to get it done. This trip? It’s just a breather. We’re here to regroup.”

“I’m sorry. I should be more supportive. I’m just scared. Sixty years isn’t enough. We haven’t done all the things I’ve said no to yet, Annie.”

“Never apologize, Margo. You’re the sane one in our relationship. You keep me grounded.”

I swipe an errant tear as bile rises in my stomach. It’s the anger I feel with myself for the wasted bits. Annie merely smiles. She hands me her plastic glass, now less than half full, and bends to grab something else from her shopping bag of surprises. When she comes back up with the two pink pussy hats we made last summer for the Washington rally, all I can do is laugh. I’m not sure how to stop.

“What?” she says. “You didn’t think I’d leave home without them, did you?”

“Annie,” I say, grabbing one of the hats and pulling it down over my head, not giving a good goddamn what it does to my hair. “What the hell am I ever going to do with you?”

We laugh, but somewhere deep down inside I’m asking myself a very different question. What will I ever do without her?

“I’m not done yet, my love.” Annie puts the other hat on and reaches in to plant a kiss on my unsuspecting lips. Our teeth click together and we giggle before managing to get it right.

Annie poses us for a selfie with the tower in the background. It’s very similar to the ones we’ve taken all along in this spot, long before they were ever called selfies. Smiles on our faces and pussy hats blazing, she snaps the shot. I know she’ll post it soon on either Instagram or Facebook, and it’ll be accompanied by some harsh words of condemnation and battle cries for revolt…but the thing most people will see is what will make the heart of the shot and give it likes and mileage. Even after all these years, at the heart of it all we’re just two girls in love.

The tourists in the boat below us rise up into another cacophony of applause. This time, though, it’s not for us. The Eiffel Tower bursts into light as the darkness becomes complete.

I hand Annie back her glass before I finish my champagne and toss my own glass into the bag at our feet. Annie finishes her drink and bends down to pack things away properly. As she straightens up, I reach in for another kiss. We pull away and take in the shimmering display of lights on the tower. The world around us has fallen into a hush as everyone flocked about the tower looks on in awe.

Annie stands beside me in all her pussy hat splendor. I wonder at the way she takes in the lights like it’s the first time she’s ever seen them. My lone thought fills me with hope. The world still needs Annie Willis just as much as I need her. This truth soothes me more than a spontaneous trip to our favorite city ever could. Annie’s not done fighting. The least I can do is be in her corner.

THE END

CLICK HERE TO CHECK OUT MY LATEST NOVEL THE CAMINO CLUB, AVAILABLE NOW FOR PREORDER ON AMAZON KINDLE!

(Pictures are my own, taken during my 2014 trip to Paris with the LEFT BANK WRITERS RETREAT.)

Categories
Short Story Stratford Rotary

3rd Place – Paris At Sunset And Into the Night…

It’s official! The winners of the 2019 Stratford Rotary Short Story Contest have been announced! My story PARIS AT SUNSET AND INTO THE NIGHT, about a lesbian couple coming to grips with a cancer diagnosis while taking an impromptu trip to Paris, tied for 3rd place in the competition!

A new beginning, she said. A chance to reconnect. To say we needed one was more than a little misleading. We’ve never been closer. I was more than willing, however, to accept Annie’s reasoning on calling it a new beginning on our year instead of on our lives. It’s only early June and I’m ready to pack this year away and never look back on it. When Annie mentioned Paris, it took me three seconds to say yes.

And now we’re here and I’m trying my best not to regret our spontaneous decision. We’ve left so much chaos back home, I find it difficult to focus on anything else.

So begins my story. I will refrain from posting it in its entirety here, as I heard there would be an anthology of winners in the future.

Congratulations to all the winners, including SHARON FRAYNE who I know from the Muskoka Novel Marathon. Sharon took 2nd place. (-:

Categories
On Writing Short Story Stratford Rotary Writing Contest

2019 Stratford Rotary Short Story Contest Shortlist Announced…

What a great way to get back into the writing mindset!

I made the list! Such a thrill to discover yourself on a shortlist! Rotary Club of Stratford’s annual short story contest winners will be announced at the Stratford Writers Festival on October 19th.

Up for grabs in the contest?

19 and under-Teen

  • First: $300
  • Second: $200
  • Third: $100
  • 3 Honourable Mentions

20 and over-Adult

  • First: $500
  • Second: $250
  • Third: $100
  • 3 Honourable Mentions

For me, just making the shortlist is a great reward and honour. I submitted a short story about a lesbian couple struggling with a recent cancer diagnosis and revisiting one of their favourite places on earth for a respite from their harsh new reality. PARIS AT SUNSET AND INTO THE NIGHT made the first cut, and in my book that’s pretty awesome in and of itself!

YOU CAN VIEW THE FULL SHORTLIST HERE

Good luck to my fellow shortlisted writers! And to all those who entered, KEEP DOING WHAT YOU’RE DOING!

Categories
Short Fiction Short Story Stratford Rotary

2019 Rotary Stratford Short Story Contest

I’ve just been made aware of the upcoming open-to-submissions date for the next FREE Rotary Stratford Short Story Contest. The 2019 Rotary Club of Stratford Short Story Contest will begin taking submissions for short stories of no more than 2,500 words of any genre on MAY 1st, 2019.

Submission window is:

MAY 1st – AUGUST 31st, 2019

There are two categories, based on AGE—Youth & Adult.

19 and under-Teen (must have parental or guardian consent)

  • First: $300
  • Second: $200
  • Third: $100
  • 3 Honourable Mentions

 

20 and over-Adult

  • First: $500
  • Second: $250
  • Third: $100
  • 3 Honourable Mentions

NO CONTEST FEE!

Submission Deadline Again: AUGUST 31st, 2019

LINKS:

CLICK HERE FOR CONTEST RULES AND REGULATIONS AND TO SUBMIT

CLICK HERE FOR COMPLETE LIST OF LAST YEAR’S WINNERS

FULL DETAILS AND ELIGIBILITY

Contest Announcements:

  • Shortlist Announcement: September 2019
  • Winner Announcement: October 18 – 27, 2019 during the Stratford Writers Festival
Categories
NYC Midnight Paris Short Fiction Short Story Short Story Challenge

NYC Midnight – Round Two and Me!

20140620_201108
The entrance stairs to my third floor flat in Paris in Rue St Louis.

I honestly can’t believe this, but I get to move forward to ROUND 2 of the NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge 2019! The first cut of this challenge is the deepest. It just went from over 4,500 writers to only 750 writers in the 2nd round. Just after midnight last night (or, I suppose, this morning) the Round 1 results were posted. Not only did I make the Top 5 in my heat, but I made FIRST PLACE. I know, I’m just as flabbergasted as you are! But after I read the results three (or four, or five) times, I decided I was reading them correctly. It’s right there in black and white, come what may…

nyc

I have been writing short stories quite a lot lately, and they’re always set in cities that I have visited in the past few years. I decided not to stray from that theme with this one. I guess it’s working. My heat in round one had 3 stipulations. The genre had to be DRAMA, it had to involve PET-SITTING in some form or another and one of the characters had to be a FIANCEE. I wrote a story from the perspective of the apartment I actually stayed in while in Paris in 2014. I had the good fortune of being told by the hotel concierge when I arrived at my hotel on Rue St. Louis on the Island that they had a special apartment down the street. He said, “You’re a writer, no? We would like to give you the full experience!” He took me for a walk down the street and showed me a top floor flat with a view to a courtyard below. As if he was afraid I would say no and demand to be taken back to the hotel, he offered me a daily discount to stay in the incredible flat. He had me at hello. I saw the woman downstairs while I was staying in that flat. I put her in my pocket, knowing I would use her at a later date. Thanks to the NYC Midnight challenge, because the prompts called her willowy ghost back into existence.

20140620_201122
See those three windows at the very top? That’s where I called home when I was in Paris. They looked down into the closed circular courtyard below. And…maybe into a few of the windows below, too. (-;

I’m stunned, really…so so happy and excited too. I can’t wait for the next round, even though it terrifies me. I can work around the other stipulations, it’s the genre challenge I fear the most. I tend to stay in my lane as a reader and as a writer…which means I could definitely miss some of the subtle nuances of quite a few of the potential genres I could find myself facing. I shudder to think!

And I won’t have long to worry about the gunshot that goes off and sends a scary genre-bullet my way. THURSDAY AT MIDNIGHT—that’s when I’ll receive the 2nd round challenge. And the 750 writers still alive in this challenge will have 72 hours to submit their 2000 word stories for the next round of judging.

paris1
Nina, a dear friend I met while in Paris for the Left Bank Writers Retreat in June 2014. We spent a lot of our free time together, exploring all of Paris on foot. This is us atop the Arc de Triomphe.

Here’s what the 2nd Round officially looks like:

nyc2

I’m so thrilled that I held on to that woman these 5 years. When I run across my potential characters in real life, they sort of haunt me relentlessly until I get them on the page. She was particularly insistent. She’s free now. And I thank her from the bottom of my heart, both for sticking around and for pinch-hitting when I needed her most. Cheers to the woman downstairs in Rue Saint-Louis en l’Île, Paris! I am eternally grateful for ‘meeting’ you.

GOOD LUCK TO MY 749 FELLOW ROUND TWO WRITERS! Full disclosure: Every July I travel up to Huntsville, Ontario for the 72hr Muskoka Novel Marathon. That’s right…I write an entire novel in 72 hours. I’m ready for this challenge! BRING IT!

Categories
Anthology I Will Tell the Night Short Fiction Short Story Trevor Project Uncategorized

Love_Is_Love Anthology and I Will Tell the Night Aesthetic

Two things. The first, I’m thrilled to announce the release of an anthology in which I have a short story! Love_Is_Love released yesterday (Jan 24/19):

Love_Is_Love: An Anthology for LGBTQIA+ Teens

All proceeds from the sale of the anthology go to THE TREVOR PROJECT (The leading national organization providing crisis intervention and suicide prevention services to LGBTQ+ youth. The Trevor Lifeline: 866.488.7386.)

My story is called THIS IS ME IN GRADE NINE and it follows a trans girl in the moments leading up to her first day of high school.

Here’s some cover love for you! The strength of the Rainbow Fist in the Air is divine:

 

 

YOU CAN PICK UP A COPY OF THE ANTHOLOGY HERE. PLEASE CONSIDER DOING SO, AS THE TREVOR PROJECTS NEEDS YOUR HELP IN ORDER TO CONTINUE TO THRIVE.

The second thing? During part of the festivities on Twitter this month for #LGBTRelease I made a NOVEL AESTHETIC for my upcoming release I WILL TELL THE NIGHT. I wanted to share it here. 🙂

tell.jpg
Steven & Finn and their cross-country journey to healing, complete with BEETS.

The origin story for the title of I WILL TELL THE NIGHT can be found at this recent blog post HERE. Details on its release to follow, but it is SOON.

Categories
Editing Edits On Writing Short Story

I Don’t Think I Wrote What I Thought I Wrote – The Edit

Sometimes I will re-read a sentence in one of my WIPs and think, ‘what the heck was I trying to say here?

This one fact, more than anything else, is good enough validation that we should always put our writing down long enough to come back to it with fresh eyes. The hope is that those fresh eyes will be confused by something/anything we wrote which does not make sense to the reader.

13658980_10153620157102021_5222252651703869556_n
One of my many editing places. The dock at the yearly Muskoka Novel Marathon in Huntsville, Ontario.

Today’s Tidbit of Wisdom:

If you put it down long enough, you become the reader.

This is the part where I say how lovely it is to edit. Not everyone loves to edit, and, to be honest, my own relationship with it is probably love/hate at best. But when I love to do it, I really love to do it.

This is never more true a statement as when I am editing my short stories. I suppose, because I understand intrinsically that editing is SO VITAL with short stories. I know it’s important with anything we write. And I also know that one could argue that every word counts in whatever we write, whether it’s as tiny as a haiku or as gargantuan as a big ole tome of a novel. Yes, of course all words matter. BUT…with the short story, EVERY. WORD. MATTERS.

You only have so many words with which to build your entire universe within the confines of a short story. None of those words can afford to lead the reader astray. If you lead the reader astray in the limited universe that a short story entails, you will lose them forever. No amount of breadcrumbs will bring them back to the story in one piece. As READER, every breath you take inside a short story needs to count…needs to get you to the end fully intact and alive. Therefore, every word the writer uses factors into the measuring of the reader’s breathing pattern. That’s just a fact of language…one that writers cannot ignore.

I recently stumbled on a line I had in a short story I was revisiting. I was attempting to get it submission-ready, but knew it still needed some work. For a good three or four minutes I tried not only to figure out what it was I originally attempted to say, but also to figure out how the line fit in with the narrative around it. Picture a basket filled with bright red tomatoes, with a great big juicy green Granny Smith apple right in the middle of it. I didn’t know how the apple got there and I couldn’t figure out a way to leave it there in the basket, surrounded by all those gloriously red tomatoes. I had the sense it somehow didn’t belong.

All this to say PUT YOUR WORK ASIDE. Become unfamiliar with it. This is the best way to ensure you are saying all the things you want to say, in the way you want to say them. If you read it immediately after you finish writing it, you might READ WHAT YOU MEANT in your lines…even though the words on the page don’t match up with what it is you were trying to say. DISTANCE MAKES FOR BETTER EDITING.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I have an apple to remove from a certain basket I’ve been eyeing suspiciously.

Happy Writing. Happy Editing. Happy Friday.

Categories
NYC Midnight Short Fiction Short Story Short Story Challenge

Col. Mustard in the Study with a Revolver – 2019 NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge

untitled

Okay, not quite the same thing…but close! The 2019 NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge kicked off Midnight Friday January 18th. We have 8ish days to submit our short stories for the first round of the competition. Each writer was sent an email with their 3 story stipulations: GENRE/SUBJECT/CHARACTER. The fun has begun. Here’s just a few samples of the first round heats:

Genre                                  Subject                             Character

  • Suspense                       Impossible                            a witness
  • Thriller                         Witnessing a crime             a hypochondriac
  • Comedy                         A raffle                                  a princess
  • Political Satire               Lying                                    a fruiterer
  • Action/Adventure         A standoff                            an engineer
  • Sci-Fi                                an exotic pet                       an interior designer
  • Fairy tale                        repetition                             a gunslinger
  • Suspense                        a secret club                          an intern
  • Drama                             photo shoot                          a composer
  • Crime Caper                    a backup plan                      a fixer
  • Fairy tale                           superhuman                        a cheesemaker
  • Spy                                     mountain climbing            a reporter
  • Romantic Comedy          comfort food                       an x-ray technician
  • Romance                           procrastination                    a social climber
  • Comedy                              a labyrinth                           a meter maid

 

You get the picture. That’s just a few of the heats in the first round. If it was easy, it wouldn’t push us to become better writers, now would it? I purposely did NOT mention my heat in the sampling above. I have a few days left to come up with my story. I’m panicked but it’s a relatively calm panic for now. I’m exploring options, stopping and starting…attempting to find a groove that takes me to a finish line. False starts and retracing of steps are to be expected. I’m leaving myself breadcrumbs so I don’t get completely lost. I’m not worried about having something submission ready by the deadline. I just don’t know if it will be something on solid ground or not.

Good luck to all my fellow contestants! There are A LOT OF YOU! Don’t forget the part of the contest opener email that shared a hashtag for writers to use and connect. It’s a huge community. I’m sure we can commiserate and egg each other on along the way…see you in hashtag land…

#ShortStoryChallenge2019
If you plan on updating your progress in the competition on social media, make sure to use the hashtag #ShortStoryChallenge2019 so you can follow other writers and they can follow you!

 

Categories
NYC Midnight Short Fiction Short Story Short Story Challenge

NYC Midnight & Me

Here we go. I am entered into the 2019 NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge. It begins at Midnight tonight and it is my first foray into all this NYC Midnight business. This is the 13th annual challenge and I’m pumped for it but certain I’ll fair poorly. I’ll come back and let you know, once I get the boot…but for now, here’s how it works:

KNOCKOUT ROUND ONE:

(January 18-26, 2019), writers are placed randomly in heats and are assigned a genre, subject, and character assignment.  Writers have 8 days to write an original story no longer than 2,500 words

The contest judges will choose the TOP 5 STORIES in each heat and those writers will move on to Round #2. All other writers are given the boot.

KNOCKOUT ROUND TWO:

(April 4-7, 2019)where writers receive new assignments, only this time they have just 3 days to write a 2,000word (maximum) short story.

Whoa. The time between rounds?! I wonder if this is set up this way to mess with the writers’ psyches. I’d much rather prefer to jump right back into the ring, myself. Listen to me…as if I’d make it to round two! Judges pick finalist from this round, as well. And they get to move on to the third and final round. LET’S GET READY TO RUMBLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THIRD & FINAL ROUND:

Remaining writers are challenged to write a 1,500 word (maximum) story in just 24 hours (May 17-18, 2019) in the third and final round of the competition.

Begins in January and ends in May. Yikes! The prizes for the winners are QUITE SUBSTANTIAL. First Prize is $5,000.00USD + almost $1,500.00USD value in other writer-related prizes. You can see the whole list of prizes HERE.

The biggest benefit for all writers who enter is FEEDBACK. From the site, here’s the statement in regards to feedback. It can come not only from the judges, but also fellow contestants on the group forum:

Not only does every writer receive feedback from the judges for every story submitted, but a special review forum is available for the participants to submit their stories for review from fellow writers throughout the competition.  During the Short Story Challenge 2018, there were over 9,500 comments made on the 700+ stories submitted on the forum.  Click here to visit the forums.

Oh, just so you know…as of this blog post there are still a few hours before the registration deadline. Sound like a great idea? Then CLICK THIS LINK TO GET YOURSELF IN ON THE GAME (Scroll down to the CLICK HERE TO REGISTER button—but registration closes at 9:00pm EST today — Friday January 18th).

The first challenge will be emailed to contestants tonight at Midnight. I guess that’s where the name comes from!

GOOD LUCK, SHORT STORY WRITERS! May the words be with you!

(I’ll be back with my results at a later date—good or bad/head high or tail between my legs. You can’t win if you don’t try.)

Click image below for NYC MIDNIGHT on Instagram:

nyc.jpg

Categories
Anthology Half Dead And Fully Broken Love is Love Short Story Trevor Project

This Is Me In Grade Nine – Love Is Love

Look for an announcement regarding my latest anthology inclusion. My short story THIS IS ME IN GRADE NINE will be published this month in the LOVE IS LOVE  anthology. All proceeds from this anthology will go directly to the TREVOR PROJECT. Full details to follow. (-:

love is love

In the meantime, I will be re-releasing the 2nd of my novels that was once with Curiosity Quills Press. Half Dead & Fully Broken will re-release in February, 2019. Details to follow.

received_2264007010547991

love is love

Further details on LOVE IS LOVE will be forthcoming. Stay tuned!