What goes around

Not the prettiest image, unless you're a jobbing writer.

I've said in the past that I'm a big fan of short story competitions. You are usually presented with a theme, a word count and a deadline - and all for no more than a nominal entry fee (we can have that debate some other time).

Even if you don't win a prize, you've still come out on top because, if you've written something new, you'll have an original piece of work inspired by the comp requirements. Which means you have something else to add to your portfolio, sell on, use in a blog post, or rework into something different.

But, let's face facts for a moment, the big happy ending is becoming a prize winner. So allow me to share my joy at getting a 'olympic silver' in the Arc / Tomorrow Project fiction competition, for Perfect Circle.

My thanks to Intel, New Scientist. Reed Business Information and Simon Ings.

But mostly, my thanks to Write This Moment for bringing the competition to my attention. Another year's subscription that was money well spent! 

Perfect Circle tells the tale of Billy Cloudsbury, who finds out he has a deceptively simple - and rare - talent. You can read the story here.

Now, some of you out there have been asking about my fantasy, Covenant, which is due for self-publication this month. It's still on the way in paperback and I'm also playing around with ebook formats. Expect an announcement in the next two or three weeks.

And then there's the tale of a hellish takeover, but that's another story altogether!

How low can you go?

Wordcount, that is. The 100 word One Tight Write competition, run by A Word with You Press, is going great guns. It's remarkable how much you can fit into such a small space, like the literary equivalent of the joke about fitting four elephants in a Mini.

I've written 50 and 60 word stories in the past, but the most celebrated short story is surely Ernest Hemingway's masterpiece: For sale: baby shoes. Never worn.

The Arvon Foundation ran its own six short words competition earlier this year and these were my entries (with thanks to fellow writer Susie, who is better at archiving my emails than I am):

One survives, one dies; now choose.

Last human, online; then instant message.

Congratulations! I blanch, knowing I'm impotent.

Good to see you again, Lucifer.

Published at last and no one suspects.

Till death us do part... goodbye.