you know, i get why contest have entry fees but on the other hand, I just spent 7 quid entering the Bridgeport Prize and it kinda hurts. (and with a story that, in its first incarnation, was already been rejected by Ambit Magazine so I don't know why I bother - but I am secretly gleeful that at least I know one of my heroes Ali Smith will be reading the entries, so there's that).
And then there's the Manchester Fiction prize, which I really want to enter but oh well IT'S 15 BLOODY POUNDS. surely, the prize is £10,000 but most of us won't win that so. Getting shortlisted for that would be the coolest ever, wouldn't be? I mean, it would give me a proper excuse to finally visit Manchester, land of Thomas De Quincey, Jeanette Winterson, the Hacienda, Life on Mars and the 1999 football team of everybody's dreams.
In short: I want to enter literary contests but have no money. Entry fees are unfair (for me right now, I'm sure if you give me five minutes I'll come up with a good defence of contest entry fees but right now I'm hungry and can only afford Dae Ramen noodles as dinner).
I also had an excerpt of my novel, The Cardiff Affair, rejected by Dogzplot. And it's only Monday. Let's see if I can get to my birthday with at least five rejections this week.
It's really hot in London today and I don't feel like buying groceries. I stay in my room and go through the "very awesome writing" folder in my bookmarks and I wish, more than anything for a moment, that I was as talented as Matthew Kirkpatrick.
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