Yesterday, I my interest was piqued by a writing contest for Canadian authors when I stumbled across the Canada Writes website. It surprises me that I didn’t find the site until this weekend, considering how much time I spend online and/or writing and being Canadian. It’s the CBC Creative Nonfiction competition, and I’m going to enter. In true me style, I found out about this thing ten days before the contest closes on February 1, so yet again I find myself working on a tight timeline. Crap.
Luckily for me, the length requirement for this competition is 1200-1500 words, which is considerably shorter than many of my blog posts. I cannot submit anything I’ve done for Blue Speckled Pup since the rules forbid entering any writing that’s been previously published. Based on the brief length of the composition I need for this enterprise, I should have been able to rattle off a piece in an hour yesterday afternoon. After all, “creative nonfiction” is what I write and publish here most days. Creative nonfiction refers to engagingly-written true stories, serious or funny or whatever else they may be. The genre varies from journalistic non-fiction writing in its use of language and literary techniques.
The grand prize is $6000. I could certainly find good use for $6000, and I promised The Electrician that if I happen to win this contest (however small the odds, I believe wholeheartedly in positive thinking) I am taking us to Disneyland. Nothing says “worthwhile investment of Canadian contest booty” like a trip to the state of glamourous excess and the hub of American family tourism.
Here’s the thing: I can’t decide what to write. Many of the stories I would love to share with a wider audience already exist here. I don’t want to overlap anything I’ve already said on my blog in case I get disqualified for having an entry that’s too similar to a previous piece. I don’t know how strict the adjudication is, but since I’ve never attempted this competition before, I’m going to play it extra safe. I half-expected a snazzy idea to burst forth from my brain matter yesterday while I did laundry and scooped the cat box, but nothing happened. I guess cat turds don’t provide fertile thinking ground.
Help me, beloved readers! (Yes, I really do love you and you don’t even pay me). What do you recommend: should I write something humorous or should I come up with something sentimental and goopy? I have a bit of an idea for either option, but I’d like some guidance from my modest but loyal fan base. Leave me a comment and give me your valued advice. Thanks in advance!
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