The Secret Is There Is No Secret

So You Want to Win a Challenge?

And it's come down to your Hail Mary option - asking that Scottish-Italian arsehole Paul Stewart, how to do it?

Well, gather round the fire and let Old Man Stewart tell you the ways of the ninja. I mean, writer.

First, learn to count to 10 in Japanese.

That seemed vitally important to my Sensei, and so I must impel you to learn it as I did. If you don't have karate pyjamas, just wear clothes. Any old clothes. Yep, even the one with the curry stain. (Full marks for the Flight of the Conchords fans that got that reference)

• Ichi (pronounced each)
• Ni (pronounced knee)
• San (pronounced sahn)
• Shi (pronounced shee)
• Go (pronounced goh)
• Roku (pronounced roh-koo)
• Shichi (pronounced shee-chee)
• Hachi (pronounced hah-chee)
• Ku (pronounced kyoo or koo)
• Ju (pronounced joo)

Repeat ten more times or until you are suitably bored.

That's step one of becoming a ninja.

But what about a competition-slaying winner?

I'm getting to that.

Patience, caterpillar.

First, read the instructions.

Yep. That's my sage advice.

Read the prompt. Not just the little teaser bit. The full paragraph.

Then read it again.

Then translate it into your mother tongue and read it again. So you take it into your heart.

If you don't. You can alternatively ask your mother (or father, or sibling, or anyone else really) to read it to you.

Laugh at them if they don't understand those proper writer terms like "epistolary", "ekphrastic", and "story".

Those are real words.

Become familiar with the prompt. Then make coffee or have an energy drink (if you're Sara, crack open a Monster!).

Second. Brainstorm.

Don't get too het up on details right now. You are just feeling up the corners of your mind and shaking the old brain rug to see what potential ideas fall out.

Next, you will want to practice holding your breath. A lot of people approach this wrong. They try to be a fish about it and inhale the largest volume of atmosphere they can. Then wonder why their face goes red, and they pass out after 45 seconds unless they release that tsunami.

Think small, hold longer. Take a manageable volume of atmosphere into your mouth. Build up gradually.

Start with 7 seconds. Once you can do it comfortably for 7 seconds, do it for 23 seconds. Then, 42. Finally, when you can do it for 71 seconds, call it a day.

You can now hold your breath for 71 seconds.

Back to writing a competition-worthy entry.

Unless you think of the most genius idea in that first brainstorming session, it is often a good idea to leave it gestating or percolating or germinating or purifying in your head before doing anything about it.

Winners Extra Tip

One of my failsafes that I often use is I will set out to write at least three entries. I know there are a lot of people that will say just concentrate on one instead of spreading yourself thinner and thinner..but I never feel I am. I have had just as much success with multiple entries as I have with singular entries.

My rule of three is not affiliated with the overused rule of three that everyone bangs on about.

My rule of three is that often I will have a first good idea, then a different take, and then a third is often my outside subversive no-holds-barred take.

If you want an example of this.

So, along time ago, when I was in the pit near the pendulum, wondering when it might hit me, I was grubbing around trying to get some kind of placement.

Then along came the Extraterrestrial challenge.

The prompt stated:

"Write a rhyming poem about the first thing you would introduce to an alien on Earth."

I thought. Okay. Aliens. Green little buggers. Sometimes.

But before I started writing like a Temu hack, I read the rest. Remember. Read it all.

"Imagine: an alien has just landed on Earth for the first time. They're curious, wide-eyed*, and eager to learn about our world. Your mission is to introduce them to one thing that, to you, embodies the beauty, wonder, or quirks of our planet. Let your poem convey the momentousness or humor of this first introduction. Do you take them to Mardi Gras, make them watch your favorite sitcom, or share a slice of pizza? Whatever you choose, put your heart into it, have some fun, and be sure to make it rhyme!

*Editor's Note: We do not know if they have eyes."

Now we're talking.

I thought about this one a lot.

Then I came up with my first idea.

What if an alien came to Scotland? What would I do? Get them hammered on a wide selection of alcoholic beverages from around the world.

Wrote it. Thought it stood out because of the use of dialect. And my deep research into different beverages from as wide a range of countries and continents as I could. It made sense, was genuinely funny, and felt. Real?

Called it Tektal's Around The World Drinking Session. History and fate sealed. (More on that in a minute if you don't already know)

Next ode, Dear, Mr Alien. A subversive look at how crappy we have looked after our beautiful planet.

I figured, if the alcoholic bingefest was too much subversion, maybe my social conscious effort would triumph. It didn't.

That's two down and one to go.

For as long as the challenge had existed, I had in the back of my head one idea I really thought was hilarious and punny.

And it all revolved around testicles.

Yep. I went there.

I figured I didn't have anything to lose. So what if others had thought of it and then decided against it? That's not how I roll.

Extraterrestrial with an Extra-Testicle was born.

I have no regrets. And no, it's not autobiographical. I have two healthy testicles.

Anyway. It turns out my first idea was the best ever. At rhyming poems about aliens visiting Earth.

Because it won.

(My knee is dodgy as funk.

Too much jazz not enough 4-4.)

Edit.

If you read any writing guide by anyone more celebrated, academically qualified, and experienced than the stupid Scottish-Italian arsehole you're listening to right now, they will always say some sorta thing about editing.

Sylvia Plath famously removed a shit ton of writing when working her drafts to the finished pieces. Around 30 to 50% often.

Do I think you need to do the same to win?

No.

Never do anything just cos someone said you need to.

Use your brain, your heart, your eyes, or hands if you are blind and using braille. Which reminds me, I'd love to see what a Paul Stewart poem or story looked like in braille.

Editing is important as that is when you carve out personality, character development, and your voice.

People don't just write first drafts that bring men and women to their knees to worship. There's usually a bit of arsing around.

Honestly, it gets a bit tedious when you're deciding whether an adjective deserves to live or be sacrificed.

Please remember that words have meaning and feeling, and when you reject them, it's like a breakup.

If you are Sylvia Plath, edit like Sylvia Plath. Also, if you are Sylvia Plath, how's being dead? Sorry about your crappy life, and can you sign my copy of The Accidental Poet by Paul Stewart?

Drink plenty of water. That always seems to be helpful.

Proofread until you are sick of your own god-awful work.

More important than editing is proofreading. If you don't trust your own eyes, employ or negotiate the use of a trusted friend, rival, or crime boss. Make sure they speak real good English, though.

Get enough sleep. That's also a thing people say.

But take it from me, sleep is overrated, and sleep paralysis, night terrors, and feeling like you almost die every time you get a bit of shut eye does not a good writer make.

Or maybe it does.

Nine wins don't come from nothing.

Well, they did because they didn't exist, and then magic.

Ninja time.

Finally, I wanted to reverse what I've already said.

When the Craft Over Catharsis challenge dropped, people lost their fucking minds.

Let's look at the prompt:

"Write a story that prioritizes structure, technique, or form over emotional release."

And the full description read as follows:

"Some stories are built to move us. Others are built to hold together.

In this challenge, structure is not a vehicle for emotion but the central concern. Shape, pattern, constraint, or technical approach should guide the story’s choices. The satisfaction comes from coherence, precision, and follow-through rather than catharsis.

Let the form lead. Trust that meaning can emerge from control, design, and rigor, even when emotional release is withheld."

This proved to be quite a challenging challenge.

I can still understand why.

In the end, I had five entries.

After much thought, I had started with three potentials in my head.

• One about war.
• One about a serial killer.
• One about grief.

Then I wrote two more. An odd one that felt like some kind of breakdown and included another run through of my highly publicised hatred for humanising Dracula.

Each new one I wrote, I thought was better than the last.

Para Bellum actually scored a second place in Liam Storm's Catch-22 Unofficial Challenge about paradoxes.

I still think I did a great job of coldly showing how the pursuit of peace is hampered because, as humans, we can't but help use war to gain peace.

Closed System is all about a character and his foolproof method for getting away with multiple murders.

The one about grief is called The Five Stages of Damnation — Quinque Gradūs Damnatiōnis and was entered into the Craft Over Catharsis challenge and the Mismatch challenge.

I think if it weren't for my fifth entry, this might have placed.

The opening lines are:

"I intended to write a literary masterpiece masquerading as a survival horror tale of gore, cheap thrills, and cheaper scares.

Call it The Five Stages of Damnation and set it in an abandoned something or another."

It actually transpires over the course of the piece that the narrator is trying to cope with grief and working through the five stages of grief.

I still feel amazed that I wrote something like that.

The fourth was ridiculous and pushed the prompt to the max.

Then the fifth came along.

While I might argue that "The Five Stages..." is one of my finest and most favourite pieces. I got jittery on the day of the deadline.

I had a fever dream of an idea.

I am always curious about what people read closely and what they miss.

I also think sometimes people just think I write erratic, weird crap for the sake of it.

So on the day of the challenge deadline, I envisioned conducting an autopsy on "The Five Stages..."

How much more unemotional can you get than an autopsy?

I took apart my best shot of winning and explored it at a component level. Framed it as a literary post-mortem and entered it. After thinking about it for some time, the idea took all of two hours or so to complete and enter.

I placed in that challenge, and it was with that fifth entry.

Now this makes me ruminate on two possibilities. Had I not entered that last Hail Mary option, I may not have placed or may have placed with the piece it took apart.

There's a lesson there.

If you have an idea you feel strongly about. Don't put it off because you think "I already have four strong entries"

It may just be the one that places.

In conclusion.

Here's the big secret.

There is none.

Read carefully, think carefully, and always write your heart out.

You can't win everything and won't lose everything.

The reason some people win is not because they are writing ninjas.

Though that helps.

Learn Japanese numbers just in case and edit honestly.

And remember, I won a challenge once that revolved around an apology from a Glaswegian man to an ex-girlfriend, trying and failing to clear up a shit he took on a pile of old bras.

*

Thanks for reading!