I’ve never been one for the high-stakes, cutthroat world of writing competitions. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the craft or the skill involved—I do. But for me, writing has always been about something deeper, something more personal.
There’s a certain magic in putting words to paper (or screen) without the looming specter of judgment breathing down my neck. I thrive in the quiet spaces where stories unfold naturally, free from the constraints of rankings, deadlines, and the ever-watchful eyes of a judging panel. My words aren’t meant to race to a finish line—they’re meant to wander, explore, and find their own way.
That said, I admire those who enter the fray. The writers who sharpen their quills and go to battle, pouring their souls into carefully crafted pieces, knowing they’ll be weighed, dissected, and held up to scrutiny. It takes courage. It takes resilience. And perhaps, one day, I’ll dip my toes into that arena. But for now, I’ll keep telling my stories at my own pace, unshackled by competition, driven only by the need to create.
After all, the only real rival I face is myself—the writer I was yesterday.
Read more of my #March of the Writers Posts.