So I’m printing my GH entry as I blog. And I’m looking at it thinking, this is a really dumb idea.

Fifty bucks.

Fifty bucks to throw your manuscript at the wall and see if it sticks. To wonder if other writers will think it’s even any good. To wait until March to see if you finaled, then sit in agony the day the loops are filled with “I got the call!” posts as you continue to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And then when you’re convinced you aren’t going to be one of the lucky ones, you wait some more for your scores to arrive in the mail so you can be thoroughly depressed when they’re all over the map.

Because they’re just scores. 1-10. And decimals, even! No feedback. And no scoring guide. So you have no idea why you got a five or what the freak a five even means!

Argh.

Of course, there is always that fantasy that you’ll final. That you’ll get to dress to the nines for the awards ceremony the last day of Nationals. That you’ll be invited to the finalist parties, that people will look at your GH Finalist ribbon with envy. That you, of all people, will hear your name called and get to walk across that stage and show the world what a wonderful writer you are.

That’s the fantasy. That’s the reason we keep entering even though its a crap-shoot and most of us know our odds of winning the lottery are probably better than finaling in the GH.

But we do it anyway.

Because there’s always that uncertainty hanging out there…

What if…