The Killer Contest Robot has rolled into the room and will only be appeased by a double-spaced contest submission. Thankfully, I have a contest to enter, thanks to Fog City Writer.
Now $50 seems like a hefty chunk of change, but somebody has to keep the Pacific Northwest Writers Association in whiskey and toner cartridges. Every entry receives two critiques, probably a nice "Thank you for playing but killer robots creep us out" note. If you win, you get to wear a ribbon at their conference in Seattle. Woweee.
This contest accepts entries in a dozen categories, including short memoir. I probably won't finish it in time for this contest, but I'm thinking of writing a short memoir of our move to San Francisco. Memoirs seem to be hot these days, the more traumatic the better. Not to minimize anybody's bone-deep suffering or anything, but I'm still having flashbacks to that frantic day we left our house in Michigan. Shiver.
Yay! Good luck. I'm wussing out on the book entry. Because actually, I hate my book. But I'm still considering the short memoir category.
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