How Judging a Contest Improved My Writing
By Terry Lewis
Serendipity led me to serve as a judge for a state-wide writing contest. A friend had spoken of volunteering to do that kind of work, and we talked about giving back to the writing community. A month later, in a different city, I heard about a contest looking for volunteer judges. I applied and was accepted; I hoped I was ready.
About that readiness…they say it takes ten years to master an artistic form and become completely at home with a technique in order to use it expressively. I found it to be true when I was a ballet dancer, and writing has been much the same. At first I read craft books, wrote practice novels, and attended conferences. Later I submitted to literary magazines, had some stories published, and was accepted into juried workshops with well-known authors.
Those workshops mostly focused on detailed examination of the participants’ manuscripts and/or of famous published stories. With a master teacher’s guidance, we tried to pinpoint what was working and what needed revision. That analytic work would seem to have prepared me but consider: the workshop attendees were at the same level of experience as I was, so we tended to have similar problems. And if we read a published work, masterly writing would sweep me into the story and I’d forget to look for a plot turn or the truth of a character’s actions.
But I had studied tension, character arc, hooks, and endings and wanted to try to help other writers as I had been helped, so I signed on. Weekly for almost six months, new manuscripts ranging from three to over twenty pages arrived for critique. I had a score sheet requiring points in ten areas: title, hook, language, creativity, description, character, dialog, plot, mechanics (grammar, spelling, syntax), and overall impression. An assessment of at least 250 words was expected, including praise and/or suggestions for improvement, with examples from the text. For example: This is an ambitious short story that will really shine when it’s properly focused. Be brave and remove those paragraphs that interrupt the narrative drive. I often went overboard, writing 500 plus words.
A few of the stories I received were on the master workshop level and an absolute joy to critique. I felt no need to hold back; the writer was obviously ready to receive what I could offer. But other stories were more challenging. Not at the story level —most had a semblance of a plot—but they failed at multiple other levels. For them, the question became how much help was too much. How not to overwhelm. I needed to apply the mantra: meet the writer where they are.
Consider became a useful word. This has too much plot for a short story. Consider trimming here to merely hint as what happened. Or The reader is not drawn in by the first 4 paragraphs… Consider starting with this sentence which sets the scene and adds some tension.
Lack of tension became a particular theme with rambling narratives, plot points revealed too soon. I, too, had struggled to understand how to create tension, a failing pointed out to me over and over. Was it always fighting or anger? Did it have to happen on the page? Eventually I discovered that tension can be internal, an uncertainty or anticipation building inside a character, waiting to be released like a burst of hot steam. With that understanding, my own writing improved; I could pass on that idea to writers with similar struggles.
Another common problem was description, either completely lacking or generic. I’d counsel the writer to show the world through the eyes of a character, using the example that had helped me: looking out a hospital window, a man sees very different things if he’s there for a birth or for a death.
As I worked on story after story, it became clear how technical elements interweave: character affects description and language, language affects dialog, and so on. I began choosing the most obvious weakness and referencing it in several categories. This work succeeds beautifully until Allen appears, then it completely loses focus (see comments in language, creativity, and plot).
Dealing with the constant deluge of stories took a tremendous amount of time, but I continued for three years, internalizing the critiques for myself. I counseled myself to step back further, the words aren’t carved in stone. To be brave and delete flabby sections. To make every stroke of description germane to a character’s mind-set. And above all, set tension in constant motion. I hope my ten-year apprenticeship is over. I may not be a master, but I have some command of technique. And CONSIDER has become my own mantra.
Before she fell in love with medieval history and wrote her debut, TERRI LEWIS had a career as a ballet dancer in German opera houses, got a BA in history, and an MA in theater. The winner of the 2025 Miami University Press Novella Prize, she has published in literary magazines, was accepted to the Sewanee Writers’ Conference, and workshops with Rebecca Makkai and Laura van den Berg. Her debut novel, Behold the Bird in Flight, A Novel of an Abducted Queen, comes out in June and is available here.
Find her online at terrilewis1.com, terrilewis1.substack.com, or Terri Lewis Author on Facebook