Hallelujah, chorus! You may now commence humming tasteful huzzahs as I regale my readers with a tale of semi-success.
A few weeks back, I was in the midst of a writing frenzy. I sent off eight contest submissions in one week. Now you might think, "Val, that is pure folly. The name of this game is Quality, Not Quantity." And you may very well be right. But this morning, I was greeted by an email notifying me that I was named a finalist for the first of those eight pieces I submitted. Granted, I finished out of the prize money top five. And there were eight other finalists sharing my spotlight. But still. I've submitted there twice before, and only got honorable mention, and nothing. So I'm moving in the right direction.
If you care to take a foray into the dark world of humor, and see what ol' Val's been up to, you can find my piece here, 'Tis the Season of the Whacker. I've suppressed my Valness, and am listed alphabetically under my proper name. I souped up a story from my super-secret six-year-old blog, and VOILA! Instant contest entry.
When I first found this site, and earned honorable mention, I thought to myself: They must give everyone who enters a prize. So I submitted again. And won nothing. So much for that ten dollars. If you are still wallowing in Christmas vacation free time, and want to see how far ol' Val has come as a writer, my first "winner" can be found here, Grinding the Axe. As you might notice, I enjoy a timely Christmas theme.
One of the other contests I entered announces winners on Christmas Eve. There are just three places, but they all pay. And the entry was only five bucks. However...my entry fee check has not yet cleared the bank. As well as a second check for a different contest. Perhaps that's how mail-in contests operate. I hope those dead-mouse-smelling-post-office clerks who tossed my entries so unceremoniously into battered milk crates didn't have anything to do with that.
Hallelujah, chorus. I've completed another blog post. Any writing is good writing to Val. Like a rambunctious dog needs a walk, my humor needs to be let out for a spirited romp every evening.
Hope you can Handel it. Get it? Huh? Handel. Because my title is Hallelujah, Chorus. Sometimes my humor behaves, and sometimes it chews up the newspaper.