Achievement.

I recently entered this short story-writing competition, in which the selected stories would be featured in an anthology that will be published a few months from now. The short stories they asked for were really short: 150 words or less.

I’m more of a longform writer (even when texting). The only times I’ve ever been concerned about word limits is when they include a maximum (which may be why I don't use Twitter), because I’m typically fairly certain that I’ll be able to make the minimum quite easily. It was thus a challenge for me to write an entire story in as many words as I usually put into one or two paragraphs without even noticing.

I looked online for inspiration, came up with a story idea, and put pen to paper (figuratively, of course – I typed it out). After I was done, I had one or two people look at it and then sent it to the publishing company that was organizing the competition. I had no idea if they would like my story, and especially not if they would like it enough to select it. They only wanted 100 stories, after all, and after the deadline passed the total number of entries was announced to be almost 1200. Three of those entries were mine, after I'd sent in two more stories some time after my first one. As it turned out, I needn’t have bothered with the latter two. I received an email yesterday, in which I was informed that my first story had made the final cut.

I was having my lunch out of a plastic container in the living room of my Kajang apartment when I saw the email. The winners were supposed to be announced on Sunday, so I hadn’t really prepared myself to receive the news. Finding out that my story had been selected out of over a thousand others to be featured in an actual published book filled me with raw joy and excitement, which manifested itself in the form of actual giddy squealing. I’m not a very reactive person, but my response to the email was probably just below ‘last-minute Arsenal winner’ on the excitement scale.

After checking the full list of selected stories that the publisher had helpfully attached, I was brought back down to Earth after finding out that a number of people had had multiple stories selected, including at least one actual published author. It made me realize that, if I were to pursue a career as a professional writer, there was a lot of competition out there, even in this country. Getting published in an anthology of 150-word stories is just the first step.

Nevertheless, it’s still probably my most satisfying achievement in life thus far. I’m not even exaggerating; my academic results, at best, have only filled me with more relief than the satisfaction of a job well done. Who would have ever thought that the shortest piece of work I’d ever done would turn out to be the one I’m most happy with?

I’m honestly thankful that my story was selected. Perhaps the reason why it made me happier than, say, my academic achievements is because I had no way of knowing if my story would make the cut. I’m thankful for what I’ve gotten academically as well, of course, but grades are far more objective than a story selection process.

Having said all that, ranking your life achievements is, on the surface, a futile and pointless exercise, but I like to think that it says something about who you are. It says something about what means the most to you. It says something about what you really value in life.

Aside from this storywriting thing, my other favorite achievement was playing football for my school back in Form 5. It was only district level, yes, and we did only win one match, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Those are memories that I’ll hold close to me for as long as my brain allows me to, regardless of how insignificant they may seem to other people.

I’m still only 22 years old (23 this year…), so in theory I still have a long way to go, still have plenty of things to potentially accomplish. I’m thankful for everything I’ve been given, and hopefully there’s still more to come.