Competitions

I've only got 200 words of a story that ideally needs to be 4000. It's just not fair. When I have to write a short story, I can't cut out enough words, and when I have to write a long one, I can't write enough in the first place. Then again, the 200 words is bloody good. I would turn to writing poetry, because it's shorter, if I wasn't completely hopeless at it. I've got three days anyway. I'm sure I'll get it done.

I have to at least enter, because the prize money is so much.

Dad is moaning that we're not earning any money for going to Australia, but I don't see him being in any way helpful. It's not like he's been awash with practical help. We did put up an advert on a forum, but nobody wanted us. I've seen other people, with similar adverts, who have had loads of responses, and yet I posted ours and we got like nothing. Dad goes on about people wanting summer childcare, but he doesn't get that there are all these people out there with references and loads of experience, and they win hands down over us. Yes, people need someone to watch their kids, they just don't need us, and there in lies the problem. Urgh. It's horrible business.

And then he starts being very helpful by ranting that we won't be going if we don't have any money. Uh, I think we will, thank you very much. It is our trip, after all, not his, so why does he moan so much about it? And anyway, I've got about a third of the money that I've saved up, and another thousand should come soon. Then we'll only need two thousand. It is doable.

Feeling hot, hot, hot.

Ugh. Hot. Very, very hot. Like 30 degrees, indoors. And it's much cooler than yesterday. We're all dying from the heat. Actually, we're more all lying about wilting and complaining about the heat. The windows are all open, there's a fan on, but it makes no difference.

And it's not global warming. It's just a rather good summer. People have just forgotten what those are like.

On the upside, it's a good excuse to drink a lot of rosé and white wine, since that's mostly what's cold in the fridge.

Unfortunately, it's so hot I can't bring myself to write. Who can get their brains to work when they're sticky and sweltering? I just like to lie around reading travel books and wondering how dead we will be when it's summer in Australia. I've got some nice surf shorts-not that I'll ever be doing any surfing, I'm far too scared of sharks and jellyfish-for taking to Oz.

Must get off short stories while I'm at it. The prize money would come in very handy. Will do it tomorrow. Might try and write one for another competition, which can be longer, so shouldn't be too difficult. I've got one story that is a touching family saga, along the theme of jealousy, and another about drug addiction. I'm hoping they'll go down well. They're for the Writer's Bureau competition, for £1000 first prize. Then I'm hoping to enter the Bridport prize, which is £5000, plus the top 13 get read by literary agents.

I've an idea for that, something I've already written that's kind of a portrait of grief. It'll need some work over the next few days, but then it'll do fine. I can only have a go, after all. Cool, I think I'll do that. Only a few days to enter though. Wish me luck.