Here’s my philosphy for today: Everybody can write. There are a few who can write brilliantly. Some who can write well. Many who can write and get published. But even if you write brilliantly you will never be published unless you try.

I’ve got it! The contest bug. I’m on round two of the Snoop Red Light Green Light. I’ve entered YAfiction, and I’m honing a ms. for W.I.N. How did this happen?

I’ve gone from never entering a contest, oh one, but that was so long ago I only remember I won something–a hundred dollars actually and for something that I wrote under the influence of youth. So I do remember that contest now that I’ve reached into the back of my brain. And, guess what, I’m going to do it again. Maybe I’ll even enter more than one. Up my odds. I could use another hundred dollars.

I did it. Chapter One is exactly one thousands words, and, surprise, it’s far better than before. I’ve decided that writing under pressure of word count has merit. It’s just like writing grants, just like writing conference proposals. Choose those words with care. Use those structures wisely. Think about what is really important and cut the heck out of everything. I love it when I only have four words to add the lace I want. Yeah!

Oh my gawd. They only want 1,000 words! In those few words have I made the character engaging, launched the conflict, established the setting, drawn the reader into the story? Whew! So maybe this is why contests are worthwhile. Instead of wasting time in self-absorbed drivel, I’ll have to actually appeal to my readers. Nice concept.

So another way to show that you can write or want to write or think you can write or think you want to write is by entering contests. From what I’ve read so far they are good and they are bad. I suppose the way to approach them is to go in with a why-not- try attitude and see what happens.

What is a blog supposed to do? I’ve read all kinds of things:provide cheap therapy, promote sales for books, write something other than what you usually write, bare your soul and become one with the universe. My goodness what else?

Okay, someone go find February and bring it back. I didn’t get anything done I had on my list, the list which I can’t find, but know has important stuff waiting to be done.

Some poetry for March:

Blackberry clouds drift over
Darkened hills
I lick dust from dry lips
And run on to escape
The whir of defeat

Rain allows the outdoor person in me to settle for a desk, computer, and inside time for writing. So today I’ve actually accomplished writing more of my novel, submitting a finished story, and editing other writers’ manuscripts. It’s a vast improvement over last week when nothing but a lot of mental milling was going on.