Writer’s Digest | The Red Boy
So I come home to find this large parcel on the kitchen table addressed to me. Return address is FW Publishing (whatever that is). I slice it open with a kitchen knife to find a brand-new copy of the 2002 Writer’s Market.
Which is odd, because I didn’t buy it. n fact, I’ve never bought Writer’s Market. I’m a playwright. I buy The Dramatists Sourcebook, because it’s a little more, y’know, focused.
Wait a minute, there’s a sheaf of papers underneath it. Hang on a sec…
“Dear T M,”
[They always leave out the periods, the bastards.]
“One of my most enjoyable task as editor of Writer’s Digest is passing along good news to writer.”
[Whatever, just cut to the chase. Why’d you send me the book. Did I order it and forget? Did you get my name off a mailing list for gullible hacks who want a free sign-up gift? Did I win a contest or something?]
[Did I win a..?]
[Pause.]
[Inhale, scanning the page furiously…]
“It is my pleasure to tell you that your manuscript, The Red Boy, has been awarded [Holy Shit!] 10th Place in the Stage Play Script category of the 2001 Writer’s Digest Writing Competition.”
[More scanning…]
“This year’s contest attracted around 19,000 [!] entries. Your success in the face of such formidable competition speaks highly of your writing talent [No shit, Dick Tracy.] and should be a source of great pride as you continue your writing career.”
[I reread it again, this time in Christopher Walken’s voice.]
Nineteen thousand submissions (not just for the playwrighting category, sure, but . . . y’know.)
I go to their website, check out the top nine. Nobody I’ve heard of. I’m sure they’re all doing the same thing. Looks like there were more than ten entries, too. That’s good. Maybe there were more than a hundred, too. Ninety other people who didn’t get a 30 dollar book and…
…damn, there’s a check in there too! Twenty-five clams!
Nineteen thousand.
10th place.
10th place in the Writer’s Digest.
That’s a good way to end the day, yeah?