This Was My Best Fucking Piece (And It Still Lost)

Confession Time

Something that will not be too surprising for anyone that knows me is the fact that I am a pretty bad loser.

Like, seriously, bad.

I lose badly. But I write well. Let’s talk about why those two facts are married.

If you were a fly on the wall any of the times (and there have been a lot) that I have been overlooked for challenges and secured anything less than a win, you'd feel the scourge. The scourge of a grown man taking an absolute verbal dump on anyone who will listen about how “the bastids overlooked me again.”

Clearing the Air

To be clear: I am never unsure as to why others win. So don’t sit there and think “that Paul is disrespecting me,” or “Paul thinks he’s better than all of us, the egotistical motherfucker.”

I don’t.

I’m not.

I actually say quite often — and truly mean it in my black and miserable heart — that when a friend, or a writer I admire, wins and I don’t, I am happy for them. Happy to lose to them.

But losing in general… feels shit.

Judges & Bias

Any competition — Vocal or elsewhere — ultimately comes down to the judging panel, the criteria they value, and their own personal bias as readers (readers, because we’re talking writing competitions here).

I know people who are genuinely magnanimous in defeat (I won’t name them, because that’d be unfair). I know they mean it because they genuinely are great people. When they don’t win, they’ll say things like:

• “Ah well, it was a strong entry pool for that challenge,” or
• “I didn’t expect to place,”

…or something similarly humble and human.

Loud Defeat is Still Defeat

It’s not that I dismiss that approach, if that’s honestly how they feel.

What I don’t dismiss is the opposite reaction either. I don’t think I am any less justified for responding with lines like:

“That was my best fucking piece of writing this year and it got overlooked without even an Honourable Mention thrown its way.”

Because yes, there is a point here.

Why I Write

We are — or should be — passionate about our writing. Everyone has different reasons why they write. Me? It’s an addiction. If I don’t write, I feel rubbish. So I write because I need to. Because I want to. Because I write to tell stories, to express myself, and to try to write better than the last time.

My stories and poems — all of them, from the daft ones to the deep and serious ones — are not merely submissions. They're offspring. And it’s not arrogance to be pissed off when your kid doesn’t get applauded — it’s parenting.

So it’s only natural that when one of them:

• doesn’t place
• doesn’t even get mentioned
• or doesn’t show up on the list at all…

…it hurts.

Aiming for the Win

I set out to place, to win, to write the hell out of whatever story or poem I am working on at the time.

Yes, I have a shit ton of placements and badges on my profile page, and I am grateful, and over the moon about those successes.

It still doesn’t remove the sting I feel when one of the others doesn’t get singled out as the amazing piece I believe it to be.

Taking the L

I’ll take defeat. I don’t have to like it. Writers aren’t made of metal and concrete — we’re made of blood and passion.

I don’t need to win every time. But it would be nice if my kids get to stand on the podium more often than they do.

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Thanks for reading!