I submitted two pieces for competitions and I’m actually feeling…positive?
Two competitions entered in April. Guess those strategies for overcoming self-doubt paid off. And weirdly, I seem to have swung, like an insecure pendulum, into the realm of self-confidence.
Being a writer is to be a hypocrite, isn’t it? On some level most of us think that we’re good. Some of us even get started in this game because we read books and think ‘I could definitely do better than this’.
And is it possible to truly believe that our writing is bad if we’re sending it out to competitions and editors?
If we were completely convinced, we’d never bother, would we? In the same way I’ve never applied for Mensa, despite not being clever enough, or tried to enter Crufts without a dog or Royal Ascot without a horse.
And yet, at the same time, crippling insecurity is one of the hallmarks of a writer. It’s amazing any of us can stop worrying for long enough to actually finish a book. Or even a piece of flash fiction.
The difference between quietly confident and just…confident
So, yes, obviously deep down I have some confidence in my ability. One time a major publisher of speculative fiction ran an open submissions, allowing unagented authors to send in their synopsis and sample chapters. 1,500 people submitted; my entry made it into the top 25.
I don’t think that’s something that you can achieve accidentally. Every now and then things like that happen that make me think I must have something. Is that something enough? Well, that’s what I’m not sure of.
And I’ve submitted to competitions before. Of the three pieces I submitted last year, one was placed third and one made the longlist; the other wasn’t placed, but two out of three is great. So, wasn’t I feeling buoyed by confidence those times I submitted, as well?
Actually, no. The goal then was simply to submit, regardless of the quality of the story. I sent those pieces off in the state they were in because the deadline was coming up and there wasn’t time to make them better.
I submitted out of necessity, and because I promised myself I would. I’d have sent in a blank piece of paper if that’s all that was ready in time.
When your best is actually pretty good
These latest two though are different. One is the sample chapters from a novel, the other a short story. And in both cases I can’t help but feel that they are strong entries.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying they’re winners. I’m not sitting here with my feet on the desk, safe in the knowledge I’ll be hearing from the competition organisers about the prize.
(What I will of course be doing, though, is compulsively checking my email the closer it gets to announcement day until Gmail gets fed up and slaps it out of me).
There’s a good chance I won’t win these competitions. But I feel like I’ve done a good job with these pieces and so I have the best chance I possibly could. I’ve done my best on them, and my best is actually pretty good.
Whether it’s better than everyone else who submitted isn’t for me to say, and I have no way of knowing without reading all the entries anyway. But what I do believe is that it won’t be easy to discount my entries. They won’t fall at the first hurdle.
Rather like those sample chapters that went to the publisher, if these don’t make it, it’ll be after a long, difficult decision.
Of course, I could be completely wrong. They could be awful. But I spend most of my life living with a constant sense I’m not good enough, so while this current feeling lasts, I’m going to enjoy it.
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Header photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash
