I applied for a Scottish Book Trust New Writers Award. I did not win a Scottish Book Trust New Writers Award. This means I am not as useful, valuable, talented or promising as the recipients of the New Writers Awards. This means my work is not up to the standard of the winners. This means I am clearly nowhere near as excellent as the winners of the New Writers Awards. I was not even shortlisted for a New Writers Award. This means I wasn’t even considered for the New Writers Award. This means my confidence has crashed into a huge wall. It will take a long time to recover from this. This is why I am writing in declarative sentences without the usual tired shtick. I hate not winning a New Writers Award. I am considering a change of profession. Perhaps I could rescue hedgehogs from the sides of roads? I hate being a writer. Wasting my life, wasting my time. Ignore this. It’s because I didn’t win the New Writers Award. I’m not a roofer poet or a friend of the panel or something. Anger simmering now. Time to log off. Fume.