KimMy next book release, Eko of Disaster, was awarded second runner-up in the 2026 Leapfrog Press Global Fiction Prize.
And I’m feeling all kinds of feelings about it.
A few years ago, I entered one of my early novels into a contest and didn’t win. I don’t usually get upset about things like this but on this occasion, my husband found me crying in the living room over the results. And he said something I will never forget.
“Why don’t you just quit?”
I saw red.
Rage rose up within me, the rebellious cry of every woman who ever wanted something for herself. Women who scrubbed floors and washed clothes and fought for their right to raise their voice. My ancestors sharpened spears ready to hurl at his chest at the mere mention of giving up. GIVE UP? How DARE you, sir?
Thankfully, the escalation was temporary. Because the rational side of me clung to his concern and recalled our history together. My husband is a loving and supportive man. And he didn’t mean, “give up on this pipe dream already!” What he meant was, “if this is going to hurt you so much, perhaps you should pivot.”
The sentiment wasn’t unfounded. I was in my 40’s. I’d published two books independently. A handful of people had purchased my books. (People other than my mom.) Someone in Sweden had left a review on Amazon. I had reviews!
I had achieved goals that at one point in my life had seemed unimaginable.
But I wanted more. That’s normal, right? Every time we achieve a goal, we set a new one. We push the goal post further down the line. I don’t know if there will ever be a point when I’ll be without writing goals. And that’s a lovely thing.
But what I’d been pursuing was some sort of justification that what I was doing had merit. I was seeking outside validation. And I was not yet receiving it.
My intrinsic rage at the suggestion I stop trying was interesting to me. And prompted some questions.
Is it possible I could get to the end of my life and never achieve this particular goal? Absolutely.
If I do, am I going to look back on the hours/months/years I’d spent writing with regret?
This second question was key. Because I could tell people I was doing it for the art and still get to the end of my life with regrets. But I couldn’t lie to myself. I genuinely needed to be good with not having that outside validation. Or, if I wasn’t, perhaps I did need to quit. Because what I absolutely could not allow for was regrets at the end.
So, I told my husband I couldn’t quit. These tears were not remorse of something that could not be done. They were battle scars, sweat from the burn of the pursuit.
The writing itself is what I loved, I told him. If I got to the end of my life and all I had to show for it was what I had at that moment, that would be fine. Because I would have spent my life doing what I loved.
Incited, I kept writing. Revising. I stopped seeking outside validation and instead focused on satisfying myself. My new questions became: Was I proud of what I’d written? Did it move me? What could I do to improve?
This latest manuscript took about a decade. And I’m still revising. Mainly because I’m writing the second book and I want to make sure I have finite lines between the two.
I had been considering independent publication again, but that felt so tiring to think about. There’s so many moving pieces to puzzle together. Then, one day, I saw an author I admire talking about the Leapfrog Press Global Fiction Prize and I remembered what that was like, when I used to pursue that outside validation.
So, before venturing into the puzzle of independent publishing again, I decided to reach out for some.
And I still didn’t win. But this time I got second runner up! Which, as a friend pointed out, was kind of like I’d medaled. So, I’m happier with the results this time. And with my bronze medal in writing.
Most importantly, I’m happy I didn’t stop pursing my goal. There are many prizes out there to be won, both figuratively and literally. And stopping a decade ago would have resulted in none of those wins. At the end, this is what I will remember.
Unto the breach, dear friends!