'No Mantlepiece Needed!' Well, the entry conditions didn't actually say that in so many words, but in the section headed 'The overall winner will get:'...Ìý Sorry, I'm dashing ahead and probably leaving you behind in my excitement.ÌýI'll start closer to the beginning but keep it short so's not to bore you. As a young and eager writer I'm always on the look-out for competitions to enter with publication promises, prizes, fame and fortune to aim for, and I'm always watching for the equivalent of 'Stars in Your Eyes' for writers - maybe 'Stars in your Pencil' or 'Word Idol'.ÌýJust imagine me writing like Jilly Cooper or Alan Bennett or someone and being done up to look like one of them for my televised stage reading.ÌýFantastic! Anyway, I search everywhere for competitions and it’s a labour of love, I can tell you: no page goes unturned. My latest find on the Competitions Highway was in the local rag. Just a few lines. It looked quite tasty with tempting words such as '´óÏó´«Ã½', 'tickets to local adventure park' and 'no upper age limit', (the last being the most delicious of all).Ìý I stumbled about in the mire of the Internet for some days and eventually got an entry form to squeeze itself reluctantly out of the printer. As usual I fished out my highlighter pen and flourished fluorescent optimistic yellow methodically and selectively through words, lines, paragraphs, all criteria, dates...Ìý(To be honest this process sometimes takes so long I'm too tired to write anything at all afterwards and the whole page is yellow.)Ìý But this one:ÌýGeronimo!ÌýI could be 2 or over 105 and I could still enter! I paused. Breaking for a teabreakÌý- competitive writing is thirsty work (two cups and a nice slice of coffee and walnut cake to soak it up) - I began to feel more and more optimistic about this particular one.ÌýI wasn't sure why, but there was this sort of tingly feeling - anticipation - thrill - glee - like I just knew the words would come and they'd be the right ones in the right order.Ìý(In actual fact this feeling often comes to me but more often than not I become so taken up with the sensation that the closing date passes before I've got to the third paragraph and I'm left dismal and deflated.ÌýA sorry sight.)
Sorry. To return to the form.ÌýChecking my highlighting I spotted an omission, not from the form but from my checking.ÌýI blanched, then fiercely marked the words 'POSTAL ENTRIES NOT ALLOWED'.ÌýThe acid yellow words pierced my eyes, stabbed my soul and batted my brain into registering the meaning: 'No envelope. No form to fill in by hand in black biro. No paper clips.ÌýNo stamp. And lastly - No satisfying thud as my creative writing hit the bottom of the post box'. I abandoned ship and went in search of anything else at all. Later I became braver and bit the bullet, rummaging about in drawers, plastic wallets, shopping bags, filing trays, cupboards - all the writer's necessary accoutrements - and eventually found my handwritten notes headed: 'Sending Documents by EMAIL!!!
Will I EVER be able to do this???', a many-multi-coloured, highlighted, underlined and capital-lettered document.Ìý But I was determined I would manage when it came to ‘The Time'. ‘How you doing darling?ÌýWanna go for a beer?’
Maxine Malloy.ÌýYoung and eager writer just like me but thinks she’s writing for Bonny and Clyde.ÌýGreat woman.
'Max.ÌýHow are you?ÌýWhere shall we go?ÌýNow?Ìý8.30?'
'Bring your latest'.ÌýWe spoke in unison as always for this line.Ìý'Let's crit it!'
Not having any 'latest' to take, I took the latest competition application instead and Maxine practically gobbled it up.
'Where did you hear about this, you?ÌýI didn't see it.'
'I think it was a newspaper mis-placed-print item.ÌýI found it among the small ads. Here's the page.'
Avoiding the beer spills the unfolded tabloid-sized sheet revealed the writing competition item and the 'supporting advertisements’ which we read out aloud together following Maxine's finger:Ìý
'Lampshade frosted glass pendant up lighter with black metal and chains.'
'Foxy Kittens.ÌýVisiting service 8pm-6am'.
'Bambi cotton nappies. Birth-potty pack. Mostly unused.ÌýAccept £60'.Ìý
We fell about at length over all of this - most satisfying.
Once our hysterical laughter had subsided and more beers brought in, I found myself under interrogation:Ìýwhy was I so keen; what had I got to send in;Ìýwhy did I look kind of different - kind of tingly; why was I smiling so much; had I found a man?ÌýI showed her the computer print-out and I must have been looking smug or something because Max started stabbing the paper with her finger.
'Look at the prizes!ÌýHardly Orange or Whitbread or Hovis or whatever it is now.' She eased off with the finger. 'I'm up for those park rides though!ÌýI'll take your goes. You can eat ice creams on a bench while you're waiting!'
'This is the bit Max.ÌýThis bit about the trophy. It categorically says the winner will get a trophy AND, wait for it, AND it categorically says the winner will be presented with it but 'it will be kept on display at the ´óÏó´«Ã½ Headquarters'!'
'What do you mean?ÌýI've no idea what you mean.'
'You knowÌýI've never won a trophy for anything and I've always wanted one.ÌýWell, I've never wanted to win a writing competition with a trophy before because I haven't got a mantlepiece to stand it on!ÌýSee? This competition I can enter and win without building a mantlepiece or buying a glass cabinet!'
Maxine looked at me very seriously. 'Oh yes, I do see.ÌýYou're nuts!ÌýSo. So, what have you written?'
'Oh. Well. Nothing yet. There's still time. Drink up.ÌýWe'll have another.' | 
