Bullshit Ceremony: An Utter & Complete Waste of Time

Bullshit, complete and utter bullshit. That is what the award ceremony was. I finished a Women’s Fiction manuscript and entered it into a writing competition. It wasn’t a romance, but it did have to do with a woman in her late thirties who keeps dating fuckasses. Did I draw inspiration from somewhere? I did, I drew from my own dating and relationship disasters and that of others. It was quite an interesting read and my target audience loved it… the judges didn’t.

I think it was mid-November when I received an e-mail from the organization that the award ceremony would be on December 9. Then, I sent an e-mail back asking for the results. I mean, why should I go there if I didn’t win one of the three prizes? Will I at least get some feedback from the judges?

It just doesn’t make sense to me to sit there for two hours to hear the person holding the microphone calling someone else’s name. Does that make me a sore loser? No, I can take and handle a setback. But there just has to be a fucking reason I’m going to sit there for two hours.

The entire night was bullshit, from beginning to end.

I went with my mother, it was nice to spend time with her. Aside from my date with her I absolutely hated that night. Why? For starters, it was bullshit, I just can’t say that enough. Some guy gave some long-ass speech about the organization, the competition, blah-dee-blah, just SHUT THE FUCK UP! All of that info he said on that stage might be important, but just give it to me in some folder or something.

After an hour, or so, the head judge took the stage and announced the third prize winner. Of course, she ripped all authors who wrote Women’s Fiction a new asshole before doing that. According to her, research shows that women in their early twenties to mid-thirties do enjoy reading about relationships, but she thinks they are predictable and cliche. They’re always about some woman choosing the wrong man, nothing new under the sun.

The judges would have liked to read more historical events and what-the-fuck intertwined in the stories.

I couldn’t help but think if she was there to judge the writing of people and their stories or just to want to read what she likes. Why agree to judge a writing competition, then? I think the entire thing was very unfair. There had to be some great stories with potential that need to be polished. None of us other writers received any usable feedback from the judges. All we heard is how good the winning manuscripts are and how we, the non-winners, need to work on our craft more.

It fucking bothered the shit out of me. Such fucking bullshit. We sat there for two hours listening to shit, then some more shit from some asshole subjective judge to go home with some crappy certificate of participation.

“You wasted my (fucking) time.”

I e-mailed the organization and I said that… I did leave out the ‘fucking,’ though. They wasted my time. PERIODT. In that e-mail, I wrote I would have liked a report from the judges with constructive criticism. Or at least a simple piece of paper with suggestions. Because otherwise, why did I sit there for 120 fucking minutes? It was a waste of my time. I’m only speaking for myself, and yes, they wasted my time.

To top it off, all three winners are people who’ve written before. The second prize winner has even published internationally. I said that it was unfair for me as a novice to have to contend against someone with years of experience. It’s the same as putting a toddler in a marathon. It would be better if there were a separate catergory and/or prizes for different genres.

One of the people managing the e-mail address of the organization is so stoopit she deserves a medal, said that she will not be the one to tell professional authors they can’t compete in the competition.

“That is discrimination, and I don’t discriminate. And let me tell you, I’m not an experienced runner, but I was faster than most professional runners when I entered my last marathon.”

I said, “Okay, great. So, I’ll organize a running competition, everyone is welcome to participate… and then I’ll invite Usain Bolt, as well.” Stooooopit person. Fucking wasted my time going there and wasted my time again trying to make her understand my POV.

At some point during the conversation, I said to myself, “Woman! STOP! You’re arguing with a fucking fool. That makes you one, too. Just thank the stoopit person for her time and shut the fuck up.”

And that is just what I did… I shut the fuck up. I realized I don’t have the fucking energy to go back and forth with people anymore, especially if they mean fuck-shit to me. But I am organizing my own writing competition this year.

I can and will do it differently.

Tiara Ray

I am grateful & blessed to have the life I live. (Soon to be) Traditionally published & self-published author in her mid-thirties. I unsuccessfully tried changing this picture numerous times, so I just left it. I wish you lots of love & may you get what you need. <3

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