Caught Between the Urge to Do Cartwheels and Run for the Toilet

Nearly six months ago, I submitted a story for a contest. The contest features amateur writers (up to and including people that know next to nothing about publication or writing) and offers a weekly winning prizes of $100 to a Grand Prize of $2500 and the possibility of publication. For a short story.

Something that is completely unheard of in the industry I am in. Just to put it in perspective, getting published in an anthology MIGHT get you $50 and a couple copies of the book-- if you are lucky.

I sent the story in for the summer contest and quickly learned that they had been overwhelmed with submittals. By the end of the contest I hadn't heard anything... except that they were going to hold another one in the fall. They also noted that the submitted stories were going to be held over for the new contest. However, in between that time, they made a couple changes, one that included reducing the word count. Since my word count was just over 3300 and they reduced it to 3000 or fewer, my hopes plummeted.

But today, I received the email I've been wishing and hoping and crossing all available digits for-- the "Your story is good and we'd like to feature it" email. Yea!!

The contest ends in February and the email stated that they are going to run it sometime in January. They will also be providing a link to where all my friends can go to vote (one vote is allowed from one computer-- so you could vote from work and home, but not from home on all three computers since they all have the same ISP).

That my friends can vote for me is awesome, but it brings me to this huge DILEMMA. I could hail all of my friends and family and ask them to vote, but what if my story is not the best? What if there is a better one alongside mine? Isn't that cheating?

Or, do I take the side of knowing that the other authors have sent their supporters and beg for the same of all of you?

What is appropriate... and what isn't?

And while all of this is going through my head, I have the ever-present butterfly tummy that says, "Wow! This is EXCITING!" battling the butterfly tummy that says, "I don't think I can handle the rejection!" (In a very Marty McFly tone of voice, I might add.)

One wants cartwheels. The other, the toilet.