Once upon a time a baby girl (who bore a striking resemblance to her maternal grandfather, who was, by the way, a very handsome man, but an unfortunate-looking female baby) was born. This baby girl would later say that she was born with pen in hand and words (never-ending words) in both mouth and mind.
In first grade the little girl would write (and cast and direct and perform) her first play. Over the years, this girl would fill up journal after journal with copious words, thoughts, stories, poems, rants and raves. She would enter (and win) an alarmingly large number of writing contests and competitions.
When it came time to pick an elective class for her sophomore year of high school, she (for some strange and to-this-day inexplicable reason) selected Journalism over Creative Writing. That lucky accident would give her the opportunity to win local, state and national competitions, to become editor-in-chief of her high school's nationally-ranked newspaper, work for the local paper as a correspondent during her junior and senior years, and eventually cover a national murder trial for the Associated Press.
Life, love and the birth of another baby girl led this now grown-up girl to take a hiatus from the world of professional writing, although even on hiatus she found her skills and passion sneaking their way into her alternative career path in education and business management--even helping to launch (ever-so-briefly) a national trade magazine.
One divorce, one successful career and yet another baby girl later the girl found herself antsy and longing to get back in the writing game. Her own baby girls were now teenagers ready to venture out ever further on their own, her career was no longer suitable nor satisfying, and her eventual downsizing (compliments of the economy), left writing loudly knocking (once again) on her door.
Blessings and connections and many happy accidents have kept the girl flush with writing and editing opportunities for nearly two years. All the while; however, this cowardly girl (oh, yes, it's true!) has hovered in the shade--resting where it's comfortable and easy--all the while pointing to that spot in the sun where she could be.
Next month this cowardly girl will be attempting to leave the shade and soak in some of that sun. It is the Writer's Digest annual competition. This girl has, previously, submitted a paltry one or two entries into a single category and hoped for the best. However, regardless of how brilliant the girl (sometimes) thinks she is (and how easily she won nearly every writing competition she ever entered in her prolific youth) one stinking entry in one stinking category has not a winner made.
So, the heroine of this little tale is seeking your assistance (her devoted readers and supporters and fabulous friends) to help her mix it up this year. Since the blog is the main depository of my literary aspirations, most entries will likely come from this (and my other blog at www.wasatchwoman.com, which has some posts that were not posted here) blog.
Please peruse your memory (and the blog archives if you have the time) and let me know which pieces have been your favorites. I have mine, but I do not have the discerning ear, eye or heart of the reader. Please let me know up to 10 of your favorites.
I will be primarily entering the creative non-fiction and personal essay/memoir categories.
The competition deadline is May 15 (I believe), so if I could get your votes before May 1st, that will give me enough time to re-work and polish as needed before throwing my little gladiators into the Colosseum.
Please feel free to post your votes in the comments, on facebook or (for those who have my address) via email.
I humbly and graciously extend to you my sincere thanks for your continued support, encouragement and laughter!!!
Thank you for helping me out as I work to take this (almost) middle-aged little girl's writing career to the next level!
1 comment:
Hey Rebecca, I've been enjoying going through your archives since I'm new to your blog. I read one the other night that maybe wasn't the funniest or most literary, but I really liked it. It's from Wednesday, February 24, 2010- Maybe Old Dogs Are Just Afraid.
I can't wait to keep reading more! You're an awesome writer Rebecca.
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