Finding a Writing Life Through Competition

This month's blog post comes from Autumn Bettinger, our new assistant and special guest judge for April 2026. She is a short-form fiction writer and has won the Tadpole Press 100-Word Writing Contest twice.

There are a few ways we may have tumbled into writing. Perhaps we’ve been scribbling since our little hands could scrunch around a pencil. Perhaps we’re retired and want to try a new hobby. Or perhaps you’re like me, and the thing that rekindled your love of writing was an inconsequential ad on Instagram for a writing competition called NYC Midnight.

The year of 2020 was wild. I know… we all repressed a lot. But it WAS.

I found myself quarantined in my house with a toddler and a baby while my husband had essential work. It was CNN in the background and washing individual grapes. It was a lot of waiting, a lot of fear, a lot of entertaining my kids while the world shut down.

There are only so many episodes of Bluey you can watch, so many craft projects you can do, so many dance parties you can have while nursing and changing diapers… again… before your sanity slips.

I dropped the onesie I was folding when the ad popped up.

Microfiction. Two hundred and fifty words. Two days to write. Prompts.

A writing competition? How strange, how thrilling, how intimidating!

Could this be my opportunity to regain my identity and mind from the doldrums of the pandemic? Could this unobtrusive ad offer me a way back to something?

I’d always liked writing little one-page accounts of memorable adventures with friends in high school and even considered pursuing a creative writing degree. So I registered. When the contest kicked off, I got my prompts in an email. A genre, action, and word I had to incorporate to prove I was writing something new. I felt rusty, eyes glazing over as the cursor blinked. I tried to get my toddler down for a nap and brainstormed while singing "You Are My Sunshine" on repeat. Once the house was quiet, I started picking at the keyboard. Action/adventure was my genre, so what could set me apart? Instead of real stakes, what if I made it playful? With a fourth cup of coffee and a haze of imposter syndrome, I wrote about some kids having a water balloon fight.

While scrubbing jelly handprints off my pant leg, I re-read it after submitting. I was proud. It felt like a valiant effort. Though I was competitive, I wasn’t aiming for first place. The real win here was my participation.

While I waited eons for the results, I found the NYCM forum. The old-school interface was a blast from the past—like an ancient AOL dialup chat board. It took some asking for help and experimenting to figure out how it all worked. Once I got the logistics down, the challenge was building the gumption to share my story.

The comments came trickling in. They were positive, they were critical in the kindest, most helpful manner, they were… people. In a world so cut off, the communication with other would-be writers was a balm. I checked the forums every day, feeling loneliness fading every time a new comment popped up or an interesting thread started. I was now a part of a teeming community of people who were just as excited and nervous as me. New and experienced writers who shared their creations while waiting for results and learned from each other. I responded to comments and threads, fostering friendships. I felt like I was a part of something again. Something real and tangible. A lifeline in the dark.

When the results came, I scrambled to see if I’d placed.

My name was there.

I’d taken third in my group and would be going to the next round!

I couldn’t breathe.

I squeaked.

I texted the results to every single person I had ever met. 

Round two came and went and I didn’t advance to the finals. But I had already achieved my goal. I was finding myself again, connecting with other creatives.

I was hooked.

I signed up for the 100-word challenge, then the 1000-word. Pretty soon I knew other writers well enough that I searched out their stories on the forum. I unearthed other competitions. I found the Tadpole Press 100-Word Writing Contest, started participating in Writing Battle, then Twisted Tournament, and then Not Quite Write. I saw the same people in the competition circuit and we started cheering one another on. All the while, I improved. Eventually, I was invited to an online writing group that included many of the people whose work I admired. It changed my life. I now had daily encouragement, beta readers, and friends to regularly check in on me.

I am a better writer with the help of the competition community. Having other writers I respect read my work and critique it, help me polish it, and genuinely cheer for me when I place is what has brought me to where I am today.

* * *

I relished the economy of words, the merit of fast writing, and helping others with their work. I started to appreciate short-form writing as a valid pursuit in and of itself. "Not all writers write books," I told myself. Some of us write little glimmers, tiny one hundred-word gems.

I began advancing in competitions. I gained more confidence, wrote every day, and believed I could push this passion into something more. In November of 2023, I took 1st place in the Tadpole Press 100-Word Contest. In January of 2024, I applied for a Fishtrap Fellowship and got it. That fellowship was not only a beautiful July week in nature with incredible teachers and collaborations, but it was also my foot in the door of the wider writing industry. That summer, I won the Not Quite Write Prize. The following year, I got my second win—10th place this time—in the Tadpole Press 100-Word Contest, cementing my place in their wonderful community. In May of 2025, I turned my fellowship foot in the door into a teaching opportunity with Fishtrap that continues today, teaching classes on microfiction and sensory detail through nature. This led to me teaching my microfiction workshop with Tadpole Press as well. I am now so pleased to be their assistant and special guest judge for their April 2026 contest.

All this from a little competition ad while I was half asleep in a pile of baby socks.

Everyone finds their own way into writing, but if you’re curious if competition may be your way in, I’m here to tell you it worked for me. I’m a stay-at-home mom without an MFA, writing every day, doing the thing that lights me up and gives me purpose. Maybe this will encourage you to put yourself out there, make a friend or two, and see where it takes you. I hope to see you out there. If you see AutumnBe on the forums, don’t hesitate to say hello!