THE MEMOIR NOTES # 16: Lost the Contest, Won the Plot Twist
A Pep Talk on Patience, Purpose, and Writing Through the No’s
“When feeling overwhelmed by a faraway goal, repeat the following: I have it within me right now, to get me to where I want to be later.” - Karen Salmansohn
The notification blinked on my screen: Hay House Writers' Contest Results.
My breath caught.
The announcement came a day early.
I submitted to the contest in late November, and now it was February 14th, the day before the announcement was due to be released. When I opened the email and saw that my name wasn’t on the winner’s list, reality hit hard.
It was my first submission, my first full manuscript, and my first book proposal. What were the odds of winning a writing contest as a new-ish writer? Nearly nonexistent. I knew that. But still, for months, I had dared to hope that this story, my story—might step through that particular door and into the world.
I had been waiting and quietly hoping, even for an honorary mention. I had stepped into a new arena, and I was looking for some small nod from people in the know that I was on the right track.
It didn’t come.
"I know I’m not a perfect fit for Hay House," I had been telling my friends as the announcement drew near—trying to remind myself as well. "It’s such a long shot. My book isn’t a guide to manifesting success, enlightened relationships, or a teaching memoir with Ten Ways to Become More… (you fill in the blank).
It’s a quiet, narrative memoir about healing from family dysfunction and coming home to myself. I don’t have a giant platform or following, and Hay House is a business. They have to choose what they think their audience wants and what they can sell.”
This is what I said. And this is what I knew to be true, intellectually.
But we humans love magical thinking. And we hope against the odds.
Hope is stubborn. It lingers even when logic tells you to let it go. But sometimes, hope isn’t logical—it’s personal.
As Ron gently pointed out after I shared my disappointment, “Of course, you're disappointed, honey. It makes sense. You put a lot of work into that submission. Plus, you’re kind of used to winning things.”
Hmm. He wasn’t wrong. In some arenas, I am kind of used to winning. So, the fantasy of winning a contract, an editor, and a team to rally behind my manuscript had been quietly simmering inside me. What if I did win? What if I surprised myself and actually pulled it off? I could skip the grind—the endless submissions, the querying, the schlepping of my book from one agent to the next.
But I didn’t.
And I let myself sit in it.
I fully embraced my pity party and pouted my way through the rest of the day and night. I ate junk food and watched far too many episodes of my latest K-Drama.
After a good night’s sleep, gratitude slowly settled in.
The fact that I had done the thing at all was no small feat, and I knew it.
That alone was a victory. But more than that, the submission process forced me to refine my vision, distill the essence of my manuscript, and, perhaps most daunting of all, share my most vulnerable work with confidence.
Every meaningful pursuit is its own pilgrimage—a journey that tests your resolve, demands patience, and shapes you through the fire of effort.
And this? This was my first real attempt in this new arena.
The outpouring of support I received from friends, colleagues, and my creative community as I submitted to the contest was humbling. Every comment, every message, every person who took the time to watch my submission video reminded me that the journey matters. I have a web of people who believe in me, who are walking this path with me, and who will celebrate the eventual birth of this book—however long it takes, however it finds its way into the world. What a gift.
And speaking of time, this process has been teaching me patience in ways I never expected. I recently completed a Memoir Revision Boot Camp, and it was exactly the creative reset I needed. A week of deep revision work, exploring craft with fresh eyes, and sharpening my storytelling tools re-energized my commitment to this book. I deepened my understanding of character, voice, plot, and the variety of structures I could play with. And I realized how much I still have to learn.
I also got a reality check: memoir is a long game.
Memoir writing is a long game because it demands truth. And unveiling your truth takes time. This story is a slow burn because it holds the questions I’ve carried for decades—questions about belonging, healing, and what it means to tell the truth about your own life. These are questions I’m still answering with each draft.
As I mentor and walk alongside memoirists just beginning their journeys, I feel—deep in my bones—the weight of what they’re facing. Most of the women I work with have come to this work later in life, just like me,. They may not have formal writing training but they do have a deep yearning to uncover their truth and tell their story. I’ve been there. I am only a few years ahead of them. This process has deepened my empathy for the struggles and triumphs of bringing a personal story to life, and I am honored to support others as they navigate their own healing path.
Memoir is a pilgrimage. A labyrinth I must walk, step by step, turn by turn, trusting that I will reach the center when I am ready.
So, while I didn’t win the contest or prizes—the contract, the agent, the publisher—I gained something far more important:
A renewed sense of purpose.
A deeper connection to my story.
An unwavering belief that this book will find its way into the world, on my terms, in its own time.
This month, I’ll begin to apply what I learned from the boot camp to my next round of revisions. I’ll trust that the right time, the right path, and the right publishing decision will emerge when the work is ready. Most importantly, I will keep showing up for this book, trusting the process, and allowing the story to reveal itself in ways I couldn’t have predicted.
Plot twist: I didn’t win the contest, but I am freaking NAILING the process. And I’ve always known that’s where the real success lies. I will keep writing in order to be surprised by my own deepening understanding of this story, of myself, and of the truths waiting to be uncovered.
And while it may not be cool to say in print, I am proud of myself for my persistence and the courage it takes to risk showing up and putting my work out there as I learn.
“If you are not in the arena getting your ass kicked on occasion because you dared greatly, I am not interested in your feedback. - Brene’ Brown
I believe in my story.
I will keep showing up for this manuscript, one word at a time, until it is ready to meet the people who are looking for it.
And I will keep writing until it does.
xo, Mary
🌟 3 Things Worth Sharing:
Quote: "I love my rejection slips. They show me I try." — Sylvia Plath
Watch: Julie & Julia (2009). Revisit the moment Julie Powell discovers her story matters to someone she doesn’t know. It’s a reminder that your voice is waiting to connect with the right readers.
Watch: Two short quick clips on persistence and perseverance. We’re all working toward something that matters to us. Keep going!
Ready to journey with me?
Here are two simple ways:
Check out my creative -spiritual companionship offerings here. Book a 20-min discovery call + let’s chat. Want to write your memoir? I can help you move from thinking about it to actually beginning to write it.
Come to our May Maine Retreat! Early bird rate ends May 20!
We are half full already so if you’re seriously considering it, get the discounted rate while you still can.
As the seasons shift, this three-night spiritual retreat offers the chance to take time away in a secluded natural setting and connect more deeply with yourself, the Divine, and a small group of women. Informed by the rich metaphor of the ancient practice of labyrinth walking, you will be invited to reflect more deeply on the sacred, winding path of your life – where you are coming from, where you find yourself now, and how you hope to walk the road ahead. As you are guided in contemplative, embodied engagement with nature, silence, sacred listening, journaling, chant, creativity, ritual, movement and labyrinth walking, you will have the chance to slow down, rediscover the loving, aligned centre that is already always present within you, and savor the gift of the Sacred Now. ALL THE DETAILS HERE.
Let the good times roll—it's Fat Tuesday! May your day be full of joy, jazz, and just the right amount of indulgence! 🎭🎷🎉
© Mary Thoma 2025
All Rights Reserved.
Mary, you are a gifted writer and I have been honored to get to read parts of your story. I’m so proud of you for entering the contest in the first place. And now you’re continuing to hone your story! Never give up - you are very inspirational! 🩷
Mary, you are doing it! You are a gift! 💫💫