The Sharp Sting Of Writer Envy
I felt it last night. The successful applicants to be included in an autistic women’s anthology were announced on the publisher’s website. I was an applicant. I was not successful.
Ouch. Why did it sting so much?
I enter writing competitions fairly regularly, mainly as a way of honing my skills with the benefit of a built-in deadline. But this was different.
I had invested so much in writing my essay because I wanted it to be the definitive expression of me as an autistic person. More specifically, an autistic writer.
The instant I saw the competition I knew it was smackbang in the middle of my wheelhouse. It inserted itself in the centre of my creative universe and didn’t budge.
I put many hours into brainstorming, planning, developing then discarding elaborate ideas. Then the long process of writing, redrafting, editing and proofing. This was no last minute sprint. For weeks, it shaped my waking hours. Then I submitted it and waited. After a build up like that, there was a lot riding on it.
Surely I knew I was setting myself up for a fall?
The problem when you enter a writing competition is that you don’t know who…
