I exhausted all my recipe contest possibilities and had no choice but to hunker down and finish the book, which I managed to do on time, even though it required an 8,000 word day during the last week. (For those of you who care, that is about 50 pages.) Then I sat back to wait for the results, the accolades and the money to pour in.
When the Tillamook people didn’t call, I was sad. After all, I thought for sure Stacey’s Smoky Mac and Cheese with bacon and smoked cheddar and smoked paprika panko topping would have clinched it.
Then when the pork people never contacted me, I was surprised, because that Tuscan style pork roast has always been a huge hit at dinner parties.
The Colman people went another direction, which was okay, I guess. Their loss, if you asked me, but still, that grill would have been too big for my porch anyway.
And then the 7up people actually chose a person of Latino descent as the winner of their clearly ‘targeted at the Latino market’ contest, and I swore that if only my last name or Kevin’s hadn’t so obviously been Anglo, we both would have been in there.
But when the butter contest ended with nary a butter bell headed my way, I’m not going to lie, it was a big bucket of suck, and a very hard day to be a cheerful polymath.
Months went by. I got copious notes on the book and got to work on the rewrites. My passion for entering contests waned, and I stopped checking online for new opportunities. I figured it was just a passing thing and that if all those contests didn’t know a good thing when they had it, why should I bother?
NEXT: The Polymath Gets Her Groove Back