Laura and the final of the novel writing competition

On 27th May I took part in the final of the Writing on the Wall 'Pulp Idol' competition. It was with great excitement I headed off to Coffee Union on Bold St, the designated venue for this event.It was with great disgust that I inhaled a blast of intense coffee fumes as I entered the doorway. I do not enjoy the company of coffee and believe the beans to be grown in the devils own back garden. It has always annoyed me that despite today's 'equal opportunities' obsessed society there is no such thing as a 'Diet Coke Union'. I am quite sure that there would be a huge market for this and it would stop people's nasal passages being infiltrated with evil smells during their entrance to novel writing finals.Anyway, I digress. I was accompanied at this exciting event by Alan, Sallyann and Katie from my office at work. I handed the judges 3 copies of my freshly printed out novel and then we all took our seats at the back. Within minutes I had developed terrifying stage fright again which caused the following unpleasant reactions:

Feeling that I was about to have a stroke, seizure, heart attack, brain tumour or dandruff attack from the stress.
Feeling completely unable to take Sallyann up on her offer to indulge in a chunk of her cake, due to the fact my digestive system had shut down in the midst of the 'fight or flight' anxiety response.
Feeling at a loss as to why I had subjected myself to such a petrifying ordeal and then feeling compelled to ask my assembled posse for answers to this dilemma and then not being satisfied with the answers.
Feeling completely unable to take in what people were saying due to being obsessed by my own feelings.
Feeling sure that I would need to evacuate my bowels in the ONE toilet the establishment possessed, which when I checked, had no flushability credentials.

There were 12 of us who had made it this far and once again I was selected to read second. I took this to be a lucky omen and then mysteriously and miraculously, as soon I was called to the front all stage fright disappeared and my performing monkey side surfaced. This always happens and I don't know why God insists I go through hell first, only to become super confident when taking the stage. I will ask him when I die and also demand explanations for the existence of coffee.My reading was a hit and I noticed several people in the audience were unable to contain their mirth. One woman turned to her friend halfway through and muttered 'brilliant!'. She took the words right out of my mouth and I could only hope that the judges thought the same. There were 3 judges; Joe Riley from the Echo, Dan Franklin from Canongate publishers and some other bloke with curly hair whose name I can't remember. I was asked a series of questions and I answered modestly and wittily, whilst displaying my expert knowledge of the novel writing process.I returned to my seat afterwards to listen to the rest of the readings and assess my competition.It seemed there were 2 or 3 other people besides my good self who were all in the running for the winner title.As the result was announced I went temporarily back into major panic mode and then looked up in disappointment. I had not won.Some woman who had written a beach holiday 'chick lit' style novel had won and none of us had had her down as the winner of the competition. She calmly took the stage to accept her applause and then gave a quite obviously well rehearsed speech.I was glad I was sat a the back so that no-one could see my miffed expression.But then when the crowds dispersed, one of the organisers of the competition came over to me and told me not to worry about not winning. He said it had been very close and he had listened to the judges deciding and there hadn't been much in it. He hadn't gone up to anyone else so I took this to mean I almost won.Which isn't a bad result really and I always think it is much better to be a runner up than a winner. Plus, as a finalist I have got a place on a weekend residential writing course and I also get a detailed critique of my novel from the judges.I have tried to analyse why I didn't win and I came up with the following conclusions:A button on my top was undone. This made me look sloppy and trampy and sloppy tramps do not win novel writing competitions.The judges might have had faecal matter blocking up their ears.It might have been because on the evaluation form there was a section that said 'how would you describe your sexual orientation?' and I put, 'mostly heterosexual, but I can't deny I lust after Britney Spears'.When I get my detailed feedback from the judges I will ask them if any of my theories are correct.Needless to say I have been in a World War 3 level sulk since this competition and lost motivation to write blogs. Thankfully, normal services are now resumed and for your comfort and enjoyment, they will never be written in a 'chick lit' style. Despite the popularity of this genre in today's world, I stand firm with my belief that what people really want is cutting edge and sharply observed prose from a post modern girl who doesn't really do very much except go to the Spar and the carvery.