txtlit.co.uk - The UK's Easiest to Enter Writing Competitions

Winning Entry:

He trapped the last of his collection inside. He was hardened to their cries and whimpers. They could only be let out after the flood, thought Noah. 

Victoria Biram wins February's competition, themed "The Collector". Vikki has been writing for as long as she can remember, and recently completed an evening class at the City Lit in London which encouraged her to write more and start entering competitions. A runner up in the Txtlit January 2010 competition Vikki was delighted to rediscover the site this year. (Of course) Like many competition entrants Vikki finds that entering Txtlit competitions is very good exercise, bringing home the importance of every word and its consequence on  the piece as a whole, and has taken the lessons learned in word choice through to her longer pieces. 

Because we set the theme of our monthly competitions, it's inevitable that there will be some repetition of ideas across the entries we receive. For the February competiition however, we were amazed by the diversity of the stories and concepts. Whilst we had a few 'Grim Reaper collecting souls' type stories, the majority showed great originality, making the judging that much harder. We like Vicoria's entry though because she uses a technique we haven't seen for a while; using an element we are already aware of in order to tell part of the story. In this case it's Noah, who has been collecting pairs of animals on board his ark to save them from the flood. Whilst there is a suggestion of foul play in the build up, using Noah as a character combines the reveal with a mild twist. Cleverly done.

Other Shortlisted Entries:

The coins chinked in her pocket. She crossed another name off her list. Collection almost done, she approached another sad geek. "lunch money. Now."

By Lynne Thomas  

For children in Africa, she says, shaking her tin. I avoid her eyes, walk past and somewhere a child dies - but at least I have enough cash for a Big Mac.

By Brian James from Staffordshire  
 

He sat in the dark waiting excitedly. He knew he had to sleep but he wanted to see her. Lifting his pillow he poked the tooth that the fairy would collect

By Kate Carr  

Winning Entry:

And so, after destroying yet another planet - this time the once beautiful gem called Earth - the race of aliens known as humans moved on. 

Well done Katharine de Vall of London, winner of our first competition of 2011 for which the theme was Science Fiction. A freelance advertising copywriter for  15 years, Katharine decided last year that it was time she did some writing of her own and so took a three day creative writing course at the London School of Journalism to help her get started. Katherine soon discovered that there are loads of writing competitions to enter but immediatley loved the concept of Txtlit when she discovered us online. Well, who can blame her?

Science Fiction as a competition theme always generates lots of entries, and we have had some excellent stories in the past with some brilliantly original ideas. Sometimes though, an original variation on an established idea can grab your attention and that's what happened with us this time round. The concept of humans destroying their own habitat certainly isn't a new one. It could even be argued that it is the current reality rather than fiction. The difference with Katharine's story however is that the destruction of the planet is portayed as a regular occurence and humans have a history of colonising planets, rendering them uninhabitable and then moving on. The story also has a neat construction; uncomplicated with a modest reveal at the end when we discover that it is actually humans we were being told about, even though we kind of new what was coming.

Other Shortlisted Entries:

Sympathy for the machine is this century's great weakness. These automatons are not alive, do not feel. I clamp the soft face in my hand and twist.

By Ross Stewart   

How quickly the human body repairs itself. Kai's new head even had the hair he'd lost since turning 120. But what point if just to re-join the war?

By Carolyn Thomas
 

She stands at the porthole until earth is a blurry speck, hand on her belly. He will be an old man when he lands, just like all the others she must grow.

By Kerenza Moore 

Winning Entry:

The ransom was in a bag - her stepfather's  money. I kissed her, gave her the bag and let her go. It was going to be OK - he loves my daughter like I do. 

Brian James from Staffordshire wins December's Txtlit competition, the theme for which was 'Money'.  Brian, who works full-time in local-government outsourcing hadn't really taken much notice of writing competitions before, let alone entered one. But, he came across Txtlit.co.uk and decided it looked like fun and so entered a story. We bet he's glad he made the effort as he'll soon be £50 better off. We're just happy to have introduced someone new to the genre.

This is a very clever story by Brian James which expertly tells us so much by reading between the lines. Clearly a ransom has been paid but it's not until we read the whole story that we understand the motivation behind it. The fact that the apparent kidnap victim is let go with the bag containing the ransom causes some confusion, but it all becomes clear when we understand the lengths that a father has gone to for the sake of his daughter's happiness and wellbeing. An interetsing interpretation of the Money theme too. Brian has clearly thought outside the box with this one. 



Other Shortlisted Entries:

As the cash-filled envelope dropped to the mat so did her hope. She had been praying he would want them both. 'Sorry' she wept, gently touching her belly.

By Karen Francis  

My stupid, rich parents! I told them I wanted money for my 18th. They got me a crappy picture of water lilies by someone called Claude. I torched it!

By Delphine Richards of Dryslwyn, Carmarthen 
 

Mother regarded our gift a curse. But as we watched the sixth and final ball roll down, she agreed some premonitions could be advantageous.

By Andrea Hayward of Bury St Edmunds 

Winning Entry:

It was a pleasure to burn. Inhalation was heavenly, exhalation a sin. I grieved every time the fire died. It felt like hell when the packet was empty.  

Congratulations to Martin Parsons of Weybridge in Surrey for winning the November competition for which we had some excellent entries. Martin has been writing for over a decade, but up until recently, only for his own pleasure. This year he's begun to write short stories for publication and entering as many writing competitions as he could. Yet to be published Txtlit is the first competition in which Martin has seen any success and it has given him great encouragement to continue writing. He's been practicing his flash fiction by regularly entering a 75 word story competition at another website which has allowed him to hone his skills when it comes to writing very short ficiton ss his win this month clearly demonstrates.

With your opening line given to you for the November competition it was interesting to see the number of different ways it was interpreted. We were blown away though by the quality of the entries, hence a couple extra making the shortlist. But we love a good twist or a reveal at the end of a story that makes us say "Ah, yes!"; and this narrative from Martin Parsons doesn't dissapoint. We are given a little clue at the outset with how the inhalation and exhalation make our protaganist feel. And there is something sinister about grieving each time the fire dies. Are we dealing with a pyromaniac perhaps? The closing line is a real gem but it's a simple phrase like "when the packet was empty" that gives the game away. Any smokers planning to quit this January?

Other Shortlisted Entries:

It was a pleasure to burn in the crackling, blazing depths of hell. My deliciously sinful memories transcended me above the pain and sustained me through the isolation.

By Karen Francis  

It was a pleasure to burn. The sharp rays of the sun soaked her pale skin for the first time in her life. Finally free of the cellar, she turned her back as her father was led away.

By Chloe Banks from Bristol
 

It was a pleasure to burn. He had done it dozens of times before and he never lost his taste for it; a phoenix, he would rise a new. Glancing at his engulfed documents, he vacated.

By Richard Turner from Abram, Wigan

It was a pleasure to burn. I rocketed up and adorned the night sky with fire. Such a short life. I faded, whispering as the sky darkened. Remember, remember the fifth of November.

By Jo Thompson
 

It was a pleasure to burn. To burn them all. To smell their melting flesh, to see their beautiful scars. I smiled as they screamed. But we all knew I was the best tattooist in town.

By Lizzie Morrison