I just submitted an 18-page essay for my Palanca entry. Yep, eighteen pages. Exactly 4,986 words I agonized over, paragraphs I rewrote a hundred times, and countless moments of dread in front of a blinking cursor when the thoughts in my head refused to make it to the screen. Now it’s done and out of my hands.
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So why am I telling you this? We’re often told to stay quiet about our goals. That way, if things don't work out, nobody will know. Since I’m not expecting to win, I don’t mind letting the world know.
Palanca Awards is tough. It's the most prestigious literary competition in the country, and it attracts some of the best, sharpest, and most brilliant writers out there. Just thinking about the level of talent in that pool makes me both terrified and incredibly proud to even throw my name into the same hat.
Submitting something for the Palanca is already a feat in itself. If you’ve ever tried to write something long and meaningful, you know what I mean. The late nights. The way you second-guess every sentence. The crippling self-doubt. Everything that makes you want to give up on writing, it's all there.
But after years of wanting it and not doing anything about it, I finally started writing, poured my heart and soul into it, and finished. Whether or not anything comes out of it, I’m already proud. Because in a world where it’s easier to put things off, to overthink, to be paralyzed by the fear of not being good enough, I chose to hit submit. And that feels like a win.
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