Battle Hardened
Allister: Welcome to Battle Hardened. Kearston: Two important questions right off the bat. Allister: Who the heck are we and why should anyone listen to us? Kearston: Well, I'm Kearston. I write flash fiction, collect rejections like Pokemon, and somehow still have a handful of published stories. Allister: And I'm Allister. At least that's what I go by on the writing contest circuit. Those of you who read Dungeon Crawler Carl might recognize the moniker as the thirteenth author of the Dungeon Anarchist's cookbook. Kearston: I've been competing for over a year, recently long listed with Not Quite Write, and left my house, making it to the Sweet Sixteen for the last Tempest Owl writing battle for Cozy Mystery. Allister: I've been writing since August of 2025. And I have also made it out of the house once for, what it's worth, in my first battle with a story called Comfort. Kearston: I'm a rabid reader, usually with one on my Kindle, one on Audible, and a paperback in hand in a valiant effort to vanquish my never-ending TBR. I'm also working on two novels, which I avoid with remarkable consistency and creativity. Allister: I enjoy reading fantasy and comedy, and my favorite author is Michael J. Sullivan. Much like Kearston, I also have a couple novels I am kicking around, and which I avoid astutely. Kearston: My focus is really centered on creating engaging characters with compelling story arcs. What about you? Allister: One of my biggest focus areas has been on how to provide high quality feedback. Those efforts were rewarded in the Tempest Raven contest with a coveted Panda trophy, for which I am very grateful. On the Writing Battle website, I've read over 700 stories totaling about 650,000 words, and I've left feedback to the tune of 110,000 words on Debrief, give or take. Kearston: You've read an impressive number of stories from Writing Battle. Is that what gave you the idea for the podcast? Allister: Actually no. To be honest, I saw the forum posts warning us that Vote Count is not a measure of story quality, and my rational brain internalized that message. It thought, okay, perfect. Makes sense. Unfortunately, my emotional brain didn't get the message. Some of the results day reveals were totally devastating, and there's still this war going on between my logical and emotional reactions to judging results. Kearston: Yeah, it can really sting when you've put your heart into a story that just doesn't resonate with whether it's peer or professional judges. Allister: Well, this story certainly resonated with me. Kearston: So, tell me, what are we listening to today? Allister: This story is from the Fear contest which had a 1000 word limit. The genre assigned was Horror, character was Charmer, and object was Surfboard. Kearston: Please be advised, this story has been tagged with the following content warnings. Allister: Implied or described Sexual Assault, Violence, Gore, and Sexual Content. Kearston: Without further ado, sink into this story with us. Riptide, by Addison DeFrancisis [https://writingbattle.com/story/debrief/cb326761-0989-46cd-821e-2acfd98a8255?uploadedStory]. ---------------------------------------- LMHO: The first time I saw him, the sea forgot to breathe. Now he rides the surface above me as though it belongs to him. No fear. No pleading. Not like the sailors before. Even the swells open themselves to him, sighing, as he glides between them like starlight on that pale shard of land that refuses to sink. His heartbeat echoes through the water and into my bones, a pulse that isn’t mine. I begin to rise before I understand why, drawn to the heat of him, to the way the salt clings to his seamless throat. I smell his sun-dyed skin through the dark sea between us, and I taste the sky, wanting it for the first time. I break the surface in silence. The air bites my scales, sharp as coral. I know I should sink back below, but my body won’t obey. He hasn’t yet seen me. He’s too busy chasing the dying light with a kind of joy I can’t understand. I drift closer, letting the current carry me like flotsam, my hair dark as ink spilling around me. His laughter wrests the very soul from me, and before I know it, I’m singing the ocean’s song for him. He stills, searching, the pull of me already in his blood. When his eyes find mine, surprise flashes across his scaleless face. There is wonder there, but no fear. He steadies himself on the ivory slab that keeps him from me, and I hate it for a heartbeat. Then he smiles, and the hatred melts to foam. My song hangs between us, soft and free in the blushing half-light of dusk. The sea quivers at the sound. He does not. He speaks, a word shaped like my name, though he cannot know it. His voice pierces through me, bright and warm and foreign. I need to taste it, to pull it closer, to make it mine. He calls to me again, and I echo without words, only melody. The sound folds the air between us, drawing us inward like an undertow, until we are only a wave apart. He leans down from his wooden island and offers me his hand. I shouldn’t take it. His warmth is a wound waiting to happen. But I do. His lonely fingers, webless, close around mine, and I shudder at the dryness of them. The sea grips my waist, pulling, jealous. But his breath pulls me harder. My song tells him of wonders the sun would never let him see. His smile broadens, and I know he understands. I pull him gently from the board, and he follows, trusting, the way a wave follows the wind. The surface barely ripples around us. I feel his warmth against me. Our eyes stay locked, unblinking, as I guide him down. The water takes us like a lover long denied, hushing the noise of the sky and wrapping us in its cold embrace. I lead him through the blue twilight where the fading sun filters down in ribbons. I long to show him everything I love, the coral cathedrals, the gardens of glass. He clings to me, startled at first. I feel his soft, porous skin yield to my scales as I pull him closer, thin tendrils of warmth unraveling between us, crimson and cerulean. The sea hums its approval, curling around us. I taste the copper of him, and I can bear it no longer. I take his face in my hands and press my mouth to his. My fingers carefully open the skin behind his jaw, giving him the breath of the sea. Bubbles rise from his lips like laughter, and I laugh too, overjoyed that he’s learning so quickly. I feel his pulse quicken. I kiss him with a depth only the ocean could know. My sharp tongue explores the cavern of his pleading mouth. His body trembles. His trembles turn to throes, then to something deeper. My body writhes with his. Locked in a tidal pull, we plummet farther under, past the cathedrals and gardens that flit by unseen. I lose myself in the pleasure of it, wild and turbulent. We land, entangled in a bed of seagrass, as the boundaries of us unravel. He is salt, I am the current, and the sea takes the rest. His body seizes in ecstasy. The ocean inside him finally tears free, and I hold him through it, gentle as the hush between waves. A final gasp of pleasure, his eyes rolling white. At last, our tempest abates, and I feel his body calm beneath mine. The current rocks us for a time, slow, tender, unfeeling. I kiss him once more, but he doesn’t respond. The beat of his pulse eludes me. Like the sea around us, it has grown silent. The heat in him fades, leaking into the leagues of isolation that surround me. His hand drifts from mine, and his fingers, lifeless, brush the bone-speckled seabed. I wail and beg him to return. Only silence answers. I gave him everything. My love. My breath. My song. I gave him the ocean and still he abandoned me. I leave him there with the rest, the current bearing me upwards through the hollow of my grief. At the surface, the wood still drifts, white, patient, defiant. I rake my claws across its skin, carving my sorrow into its grain until it bleeds splinters. Still, it does not sink. The wounded board gleams in the vesper light, a monument to what I’ve lost. A gravestone to my love. I hate that it floats. I hate that it remembers. But I know the sea will take it soon enough, as it does all things, sanding away every trace of him. The waves will smooth its scars and whisper his name where I cannot. When they do, there will be nothing left to grieve. The sea begins to breathe once more. I sink back below, letting it close above me in a curtain of foam, alone. ---------------------------------------- Allister: Thanks so much Addison for sharing that with us. Love that story. And thanks as well to LMHO for really bringing it to life. Addison: Oh man she did an awesome job with that narration. Kearston: Love it. Addison: So, when I wrote that, in my mind, I feel like I was trying to focus more on like a romantic feel with subtle undertones of that predator horror kind of thing. And that reading was like flipped with that where it felt like the horror in that alien monster nature was the forefront with the subtle undertones of the romance. And I think I like that more. That was awesome. I really like that. Kearston: Yeah same. Allister: One thing that caught my interest on rereading that I didn't realize beforehand was: I just pictured this narrator as unambiguously female. But looking closer there's no explicitly stated gender. Did you have an intention for the mermaid to be male or female or something in between? Addison: Typically when I write I tend to leave the gender of my characters ambiguous unless there's a specific reason for clarification. That said in my mind this was a female being a siren or mermaid or whatever you want to look at it as. But I think the story works either way if it's a male if the reader prefers that. Allister: I definitely picked up on the siren aspect and I particularly liked how you inverted it in a way because she is unable to resist her own temptations right she tries to turn away and and let the surfer live, but she can't. Did you do that inversion of the typical siren song intentionally or did that just evolve naturally as part of the story writing process? Addison: Originally I was going to write this from the surfer's point of view… being charmed, but once I started thinking about the story I didn't think that it was going to capture the the horror aspect very well. But when I started picturing it from the siren's point of view it felt really predatory, which I tried to lean into. And I think it caught the horror a little better but it it felt a little too creepy to me so I wanted there to be a little bit of misunderstanding of love or lust of some sort and it turned into the siren feeling like she was being charmed by the surfer as well which added a different layer to it. The charmer prompt led me down that path and it made for a unique point-of-view. It also helps that I'm really not comfortable in the horror genre. I'm much more comfortable writing romance stories so that helped me lean into something I was a little more comfortable with while still capturing that horror point-of-view. Allister: I think that helped give the character a sense of naivety which gave her more nuance and made the character much more intriguing to me. Addison: Yeah. I didn't want her to feel like a monster just with no other qualities so I tried to make her feel like she was in love or something along those lines so that the reader could almost feel bad for her. Kearston: And it worked. Allister: It worked for me for sure and I did not read much horror before this contest—full disclosure—but one of the things I found I liked most about the genre was that trope of the monster that doesn't realize they're a monster, especially when they're the narrator and this story was a great example of how to combine those elements effectively. Addison: Thanks. Kearston: So those are some pretty tricky prompts to weave together what was your ideation phase like for this story. Addison: Oh, the prompts were miserable. So I'm going for a dinosaur, so I rerolled all of my prompts. I kept charmer because I was like okay I can work with charmer there are definitely worse character prompts out there and then I got the surfboard and I wanted to die. So horror is one of my least favorite genres to begin with, or at least as far as writing. I'm just not the horror guy. So I was already uncomfortable, but I mean that's kind of why I'm doing writing battles, is to get out of my comfort zone. And when I saw surfboard, I thought I was toast. But I knew the story had to revolve around water, with the surfboard there and the charmer prompt just screamed siren to me. So I was like okay I guess we have a siren that's going to charm a surfer I just let the story fall in place from there. Luckily I had a pretty quick idea of the content of the story and the prose and the POV came later but you know those prompts just helped me lock down a story and I didn't go through that weird spend two days trying to figure out what I want to write. This seemed like the only sensible story that I could write with those prompts and I just went for it. Allister: For sure. Kearston: You mentioned a dinosaur and I don't know that everybody's going to know what a dinosaur is. Addison: That's a good point. So in Writing Battle there are trophies that you can earn for doing various things. You can get slot machines for using all of your re-rolls in a battle and if you have I believe nine slot machines you can combine them to make a dinosaur trophy, which I am one story away from doing! So. Allister: On the precipice! Kearston: RAWR! Addison: Yes, rawr. I'm excited. Kearston: Nice. Allister: Is there anything you learned from writing this story or from the feedback you received on this story? Addison: Actually yes! This story taught me a ton of things. First of all, I knew that this story was going to be very difficult to write, and I knew I needed to write the hell out of it in order to sell it, so I focused on the prose and just trying to tell a horror story using subtext. Since it was from the point of view of the siren, and she doesn't think that anything she's doing is monstrous or terrible. I needed to try and figure out a way to tell the story from her perspective as a love story, but have the reader understand that this guy is getting murdered. So there's gore and there's death but I didn't want to rely on the shock of it for it to land. I learned a lot about telling a story by implying things instead of just graphic explanation. And the feedback that I got was overwhelmingly positive, even in terms of normal Writing Battle feedback. I've got serious imposter syndrome just like most writers, but this is one of the few stories where I felt like I wrote it well, once I got all the feedback from everybody. And when I got zero points in the judging, I didn't win a single round, I thought that was going to be a disappointment to me. But it actually wasn't. I was honestly totally fine with that. The feedback I got and I learned a lot of writing techniques and gained some tools through this. And that just told me that the story was good. And the zero points basically just felt like three judges that got a different story that they liked better. It felt like a preference thing over a quality of my story. And that actually felt amazing. It helped me put everything into perspective that the Writing Battle scoring is not a status of how good your quality is. It's just whether a single judge who read two stories shows your story to win in that moment. Your story can be good, and your story can score poorly, and they are not mutually exclusive things. Allister: That's definitely one of the driving ideas behind this podcast, so I love to hear you say it. Kearston: Well, and I think it'll be interesting to see how that changes with the upcoming battles and how they've changed the scoring for them for pro. I think that'll be interesting because I do think that this story would have done a lot better in the new format. Addison: That's fair. Allister: Yeah, they're doing away with the duels. Addison: I also think that this story would've done better in a Peer battle as opposed to a Pro battle. I think that a different feedback could have helped shed some light onto why this didn't perform particularly the well in the pro battle. I didn't get any feedback from the pros that screamed, you know, you did this wrong or you did this wrong, or this could have been better… this is why I voted for the other story, so I'm not 100% sure what the disconnect was there. But like I said, it honestly was fine. Like I'm still very, very happy with the story. Allister: And I'd just like to circle back to the point-of-view again because another thing I noticed on reread is that the death of the surfer is actually not the ending. About the last quarter of the story is the siren character contemplating their actions. And there's no remorse. It lets the scene breathe and the consequences settle. Addison: Yeah, I tried to humanize that the monster in that moment by showing that she's she's upset about the situation, but not because she just killed someone. Because she doesn't understand that she just killed someone. And I think that's the horror of it. The character's obviously done this before. She's probably going to do it again. And the real sad part of it is that she doesn't even understand that she's the one causing her own problems. Kearston: And I think she blames the sea as well in some parts of the story. And I enjoyed that because of the naive way of thinking that none of the actions were actually taken in malice, and she was just in awe of them wanted to take in all of the warmth and sun kissed skin into herself. So the shift from losing breath and that… lovers embrace way of describing the drowning was interesting to me. And then the shift to frustration and anger as they drop their lover to the pile of bones and all of those that came before to go and just claw at the surfboard. I loved that full loop that you brought us through. Addison: I do have to admit that was also me taking out some frustration on that prompt. [laughter] Kearston: Well done. Who would not want to claw surfboard? Addison: I did! Kearston: It made me think of a shark and just what you would find after, you know, what what those that loved this surfer would find is just a clawed scratched up surfboard. Allister: And another thing about that focus on telling the story through subtext that I was really impressed by was how even though this narrator is unaware that they are the bad guy, you can still tell early on in the narrative that they are a predator. There's these little tells like the mention of the sailors, the focus of the heartbeat. There are a lot of little details that you can pick up on or you could totally miss on the first read, and then look back on later and see how it's so obvious, that this character is in fact a predator. Addison: Yeah, I tried to think of… like I said, I don't watch a lot of horror, but I've seen films and any time the killer is watching the victim and you have that sense of someone being hunted, it's really creepy. So I wanted to try and capture that with from the sirens point of view, but you know, use the subtext that it didn't feel, as scary. But I tried to use as much imagery and symbolism as I could that was aquatic and creepy, but also I tried to add a little bit of erotic subtext to it. And I think that accidentally gave it a little bit more of a creepy predatory feel that kind of worked with it, and I just let it let it lie once I realized it was happening. Kearston: I loved that as they're holding their lover, they're piercing into the flesh behind their jaw and the slow rivulets… Allister: Oh, yeah, that really made me cringe. Kearston: Yes! The blood that's just flowing like ribbons and the description of the body slowly losing the warmth. The things that the monster wanted to bring into themselves, they're just slowly losing all of it until they're nothing and then they just drop them. Allister: Yeah, that scene is so beautiful and horrifying at the same time. Addison: I appreciate that. Allister: Do you have any closing thoughts, Addison? Addison: First of all, I love the concept of this podcast. I know that in the forums for Writing Battle, we always talk about don't get too upset if you get zero points or low points or whatever. But I think talking about expectations and what the score really means is really important. And I appreciate that you guys are doing that. I know I got a lot of feedback from this battle in particular from other authors that I really respect who are extremely talented, who also scored poorly. But they felt a little better about it having seen stories that they really liked that also scored very poorly. And I think it helps everybody put things into perspective when you find a story and you're like, that story's great. It's going to win. And then you look at it later and it's didn't perform as well as you thought it did, but everybody agrees. It's a really good story. The more of that that gets out there is helpful. So I really appreciate you guys doing that. Kearston: The story is going down in infamy. It is it is still actively talked about so often because of how much everyone who read it loved it. And then to have zero points, everyone's like, Oh, well if it happened to Addison, then I feel better. [laughter] Allister: That's a great perspective. I try to tell myself that all the time, but I'm working on really believing it. This conversation reminds me of the silver medal paradox, which I think about a lot, where bronze medalists tend to be happier than silver medalists. And it has to do with counterfactual thinking. Bronze medalists tend to think, "If I did a little worse, I'd have missed the podium." Silver medalists, conversely, think, "If I did a little better, I'd have won it all." I see this counterfactual thinking all the time with "I only made Honorable mention" or "I only made the Sweet Sixteen." Kearston: So many people get disheartened when their stories don't do well because they put so much stock in winning a competition that if they don't, they're like, "Ugh! I'm a failure! Never writing again!" Allister: Right! Wherever those goalposts are, that mindset steals so much joy from the process. Maybe one good thing to come from some of my low scores is making that bronze medalist mindset a little easier for some of my friends to adopt. I think we should celebrate the wins, and these stories and the act of writing have value in and of themselves. Addison: Absolutely. Kearston: Thanks so much for joining us. Addison: Thanks for having me guys. I had a blast and good luck with the podcast. I think this is a really good idea. So I'm really excited to listen to it in the future. Allister: Yeah, thanks again. ---------------------------------------- Kearston: Addison was so sweet, that was so nice of him. Allister, we did it, we just had our first guest on Battle Hardened. Did we talk about all the things you had hoped to cover with him? Allister: One thing I liked that I didn't notice when we were talking to Addison, but the moment where she ultimately kills this surfer… I thought there was a word repetition at one point when I was stitching the audio together. And I realized that I actually really liked the similarity between the sunlight ribbons and then the blood. Kearston: Oh, and the blood. Yes. And it's the warmth of the sun and then the warmth of the blood as it's billowing out in ribbons around this siren who does not realize that the amorous embrace is not amorous, but murderous and they're drowning. Allister: Yeah, and it does harken back to it early on, there's this, yeah, his warmth is a wound waiting to happen. Kearston: Yes. Allister: So warmth and cold are used as another inversion in this story, where normally we see warmth that's good and cold is bad and this character has a very opposite approach to that, which is that the cold is viewed as positive, wrapping us in its cold embrace, this sort of language that tells us the narrator sees cold as positive and warmth as pain. So that is an interesting motif that is woven throughout this story. Kearston: Agreed. Allister: There are a lot of different aspects of the narrator's personality that are very clearly conveyed through language choices. We see things like the scaleless face, the seamless throat… She's disgusted by the dryness of his hands, right? She shudders at the dryness of them. His lonely fingers. Yeah. So just the phrasing here, right? His fingers are lonely because they're webless, right? So this narrator's worldview comes through so many different places with just one word here, two words there. Kearston: All those things that are different. Allister: Yeah. Kearston: And I think you just hit on something really important is the loneliness of the surfer, but at the very end of the close of the story, it's our narrator being once again alone, which is beautiful and full circle. Allister: Yeah. So many structural parallels between them, between the motifs, between the inversions. Kearston: It was a fun one. And I think it was a good first episode story too, just because of how well known, how appreciated that specific story is because of just the overall attention that it received and then the score that it ultimately pulled from the judges. Also, I do have to say, because we haven't talked about it, I know that I suffer from imposter syndrome horribly. And I think that— Allister: We're working on it. [laughter] Kearston: It's horrible! But Addison talks about dealing with the imposter syndrome as well. And he doesn't seem as though in this case, because of how comfortable he was with the way he told the story, he was fine with the score that he got. Allister: Also just, I think it takes some bravery to offer up a story— Kearston: Absolutely! Allister: —for a concept like this, even though we are trying to build up people's stories and say why we think they're great. It takes some courage to come out and talk about your story and why you're okay with getting zero votes. And fortuitously, I think, even though we hadn't talked about it in advance, Addison sees things the same way we do, which helps. And another thing is that, and I could be wrong on this, but I think a lot of people do look up to him in the Writing Battle community. Kearston: Yes, I would agree. I would say that Addison is very well known and appreciated in the Writing Battle community. So I think that maybe some folks felt personally offended on his behalf for that. Allister: Totally. So as for analysis, I really liked how there was a flat character arc that was used to good effect in this story, which is not usually something you see as an effective storytelling tool. Usually, we see these growth arcs that make us encouraged for the character or these downward spirals that show them losing their integrity. But in this case, the character is always this predator that…the tragedy stems from their inability to recognize it. Kearston: And I agree. One of the things that I loved about this story was that everything that the creature, the monster, the siren that they wanted were things that they could never actually have. So this perpetual longing for what they couldn't have was really effective. And then as the body is just sinking, you know that this is not the last time because it definitely wasn't the first time that it's happened. Allister: And they just have no ability to learn from this mistake. And that's what makes it so tragic. Kearston: Absolutely, which adds to the horror element of it, which I thought, you know, he did a really good job capturing. And then maybe you can talk about why this was the story that you wanted to do for our first episode. Allister: Yeah, I mean, I think we covered a lot of the reasons already. Like you said, a lot of people were blown away by the vote count this story got. It's not just us. And as Addison said, a lot of those people reached out and told him how much they loved his story. So we know that this story resonated with a lot of people and it had a big impact, even though it didn't have a big score. Kearston: This story is so loved that getting a zero, I think, made everyone feel better about the judging process. Because if Addison can get a zero on a story, he's good as this one, then it's okay if we get a zero or a one or whatever number that is. Allister: Yeah, totally. I've seen a lot of debates in various writing circles about how much of this contest is luck or skill. And there are definitely some hardliners that think it's all luck and some that think it's all skill. I definitely think it's somewhere in the middle. I think it's a lot more skill-based than it is luck-based. But at the same time, it's like you're flipping a coin and you're really just trying to weight your odds a little bit, even if you write. Kearston: And what prompts do you get? Allister: Absolutely. Yeah. Prompts are a huge struggle sometimes, as Addison mentioned. I've had some sets of prompts that really had me scratching my head. And that's definitely where a lot of the fun of these competitions comes from. But it can make it quite challenging to write a story that resonates with you as the author. Kearston: Which as the author, that you hope is going to resonate with the readers and sometimes it just doesn't happen. Allister: Yeah. I've definitely had that challenge in some of my recent contests where the prompts just felt lackluster to me and I just did my best. Kearston: Yeah, sometimes inspiration does not strike when the prompts drop. So you've got to re-roll. See if you can get something better or something that helps you create a story that you love and that hopefully the readers would love. Allister: Yeah. I totally was chasing the unicorn for a little while there in the fall. And I didn't like the results of that pursuit. And I don't think it's worth spending so much time and effort just to chase a few pixels. I don't have too much pride to re-roll. So I'm not really chasing the unicorn or the dino so much is the best story. Kearston: And the unicorn is the opposite of what the dinosaur is. The unicorn is nine no re-rolls. Which is I think even harder than the dinosaur. Allister: Yeah, it's tricky for sure. What's your approach to re-rolls? Kearston: Oh, that's a hard one. So for me, it depends. If I'm going to do a re-roll and lose my opportunity at unicorn, I'm going all re-rolls so that I can track the dinosaur. Which is what I did on the last one. But the one I made Sweet Sixteen with, I did no re-rolls. But I felt that every single one of those prompts just fit so nicely together. I didn't need to do a re-roll to be inspired to write it. Allister: Yeah. And that story came together great. Kearston: Thank you. It also came together on a Saturday morning in four hours. Allister: Oh, wow. Yeah, it's another interesting aspect. I spent so much time on my stories in autumn. And I almost wonder if I over edited them. And I know there are people who spent maybe 2% as long on their stories as I did on mine and did better as far as the vote count goes. Kearston: Well, and I think number of beta readers also plays into that as well because you can get too much feedback, which then by the time you're done editing, the voice of your character is completely gone. You can absolutely edit out your own voice with just sheer number of beta reader feedback because they're giving you what works for them and that's not always what works for you. Allister: Yeah, that's fair. I definitely at that time was thinking, it's all just a bunch of data points, right? And if one person says something doesn't work for them, okay. But if five people will say they don't like it, then that's a much stronger set of evidence that it actually is worth changing. Kearston: I enjoy your very analytical approach to that. One, I find it endearing, but two, there are so many writers that I have made friends with in this past year that are as data driven as you are and use each little new detail that they pick up to help them improve their craft and they're always thinking about it. And I think it's amazing. Allister: Yeah, that's definitely one of the things I'm still trying to figure out is if these contests are helping me learn and grow. And I think they are, again, I don't think that judging results tell me whether I'm getting better or not, but I do think the contests are helping me grow. Kearston: I agree. And that was why I started it. You know, you had a goal of becoming better at feedback, which is an admirable skill to have as a writer. And for me, I wanted to work on building better craft and creating stronger narration and clear characters and creating compelling story arcs that just kind of took you through and pulled you into the story. And I do think that over the last year, those have been areas that I've improved on, whereas this year I'm focusing on impact because that has been pretty consistent feedback is that my impact lacks on some of my stories, which is why I think I do well in cozy, but maybe not in some of the more dark genres. Allister: Well, I think you do a great job pushing yourself outside your comfort zone. And I think that's also all we have time for today. You've been listening to Allister... Kearston: ...and Kearston. Thank you so much for joining us!
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