You Brought a Pen, I Brought Glasgow

So here's the thing. I have another piece waiting in the wings of my brain about challenges on Vocal and in general—about the thoughts we have on winning and losing. My own thoughts as well.

But I remembered this challenge from Harper. And given my love for ISIS—irony, sarcasm, being an iconoclast and subversive—I could not resist.

Yeah. I dropped an ISIS acronym joke.

Let’s look at what Harper has asked of us:

Tell me about a time you unfairly won.

I want to add a disclaimer, but my right brain and left brain aren't agreeing right now, so—no disclaimer, no warning.

I am no stranger to wins. Just look at my messy profile.

A smorgasbord of wins across the board—a first place, a second place (when those were still things), then winner badges, runner-up, and honourable mentions. Still no dishonourable mention, but never mind.

So, if you think I'm not qualified—there’s evidence I am.

You may wonder why on earth I would want to shine a light on certain advantages that made my wins unfair. But has anyone who has ever read any of my work known me to shy away from speaking about the unspeakable?

I fucking hope not.

So what pieces do I feel I won unfairly?

Well, aside from the fact that in my head I imagine I am one of the greatest writers—and that's potentially unfair to anyone else who is not as great as me—let’s discuss the pieces in question.

Tektal's Around the World Drinking Session!

My very first win and placement in a Vocal (or any) writing challenge, for the Extraterrestrial challenge.

Doing the Right Thing Poorly

Recent winner, this year, in the Mismatch challenge.

Christmas in a Glesga Flat

Second place in the Holiday Reflections in Verse challenge.

I love all three of these pieces, in many ways, for the same reasons. I never commit pen to paper—or pixels to screen—without it coming from deep inside me. Never. Even my most ridiculous piece is fuelled by parts of me.

I don't know how to write without putting myself into it.

Maybe if I did, I could become a soulless crap peddler.

Until then, I will continue to push as much of myself—with birth pangs—out of the creative cervix and into the world.

So what makes these pieces different?

Well, they are written in Glaswegian, or variations of it, for one thing.

Don’t get me wrong—I have no issues writing in more standard British English, or even American English. But if I write something in a version of the language I’ve grown up around—the language I speak—it’s even closer to the very deepest parts of me.

“If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his language, that goes to his heart.” - Nelson Mandela

Each of these pieces was written with the sole purpose of putting a little Glaswegian flavour into the challenge pool—the dirt, the wit, the humour, and the character.

If they aren't directly about experiences I’ve had, like Christmas in a Glesga Flat, they are inspired by things I’ve seen or heard—whether first-hand, second-hand, or further removed.

So a win with something in Glaswegian, partially or fully, feels even more special.

So why do I feel it was unfair that I won those challenges?

(Is it too late to say I don’t, and that they were fucking brilliant? No—but that’s not what this challenge is about.)

The key reason they won unfairly is the same reason I’m glad they won.

I’m a Glaswegian, born and bred. So only a Glaswegian can write with the level of heart and soul I did about the fairest city of them all.

For the Glesga Flat piece, I also had a distinct advantage: I have dual cultural influences from my Italian heritage, and the fact that my mother’s parents were Italian immigrants.

• My birthplace was an advantage.
• My heritage was an advantage.
• My language and dialect were advantages.
  

Not everyone has those claims. And therefore, no one else could have written those pieces.

In many ways, it was unfair from the moment I entered.

They are not me—the sea of people who either placed lower or never placed at all.

Which leads me to an interesting point, really.
It’s the same for anyone.

We are all unique, and we all bring something different to the table. I am more than just a Scottish-Italian man—but that is a huge part of me.

You may be an African American, a gay fisherman, or a lesbian sheep herder, a whole host of other things with unique experiences and voices that I am not…

So was it unfair I won?
Aye.
But that’s the problem when you bring knives and kniveyspoons to a pen fight.

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: Yeah. I went there. This is for the lovely Harper Lewis' "It's Not Fair!!!" Rogue Challenge. You can find the details about it below.