Competition win

Someone once told me it was good policy to enter as many literary competitions as I could, because you never know if you might win.

That philosophy also explains why I regularly spend £10 on the lottery, and rather like my approach to the lottery I forgot all about my entry once the manuscript has been despatched off into the ether of the internet.  

Hence, when an e-mail popped up declaring that I had won a book award, for a moment I didn’t quite believe what I was reading. The words seemed to dance on the page, brought to life by the heartbeat pounding in my ears. This can’t be right; I don’t win things.  

A wave of surprise swept through me—sharp, bright, and dizzying. My stomach fluttered, my hands trembled slightly as I re-read the page. It was there for a second time. I could hardly stop smiling. Then came the delight—pure and effervescent. It wasn’t just joy at winning, but a deep sense of gratitude. I thought of late nights hunched over my desk, of the doubts that whispered I wasn’t good enough, of friends and family who’d believed in me when I couldn’t. In that moment, every struggle seemed to melt away.

Although it’s a few weeks ago now, I still think of that moment and a quiet, glowing pride that settled inside me. Winning the book award was more than recognition; it was a moment of affirmation, a reminder that passion and perseverance can lead to something truly extraordinary for anyone of us.