Category: Contests

A horror writing contest is worth considering when its organizer is identifiable, its rules are clear, its judging process is credible, and its prize or feedback serves a goal you actually have. Start with the official rules, then examine past results and the full cost of entry. A dramatic name or a large prize headline is not enough to establish value.

There is no single permanent list of “the best” contests. Reading periods, eligibility, fees, and personnel change. A repeatable way to assess them is more useful than a directory that quietly goes out of date.

Decide what you want from entering

Different goals produce different shortlists. You might want a deadline that helps you finish, publication in a particular venue, feedback, a cash prize, or a result that matters to a specific readership.

Write down the outcome you would still value if you did not win. If the answer is “nothing,” be especially careful about the amount of money and revision time you commit. Entering more competitions does not guarantee a better writing career.

Verify the organizer and the category

Follow the organizer’s official site to the entry page. Check whether the current call is for unpublished stories, previously published work, flash fiction, scripts, or an award nominated through a separate process.

The Horror Writers Association’s scholarship site distinguishes its scholarships from writing competitions. That is a useful reminder that familiar organizations can offer opportunities with very different purposes. A scholarship, an award, and an open story contest are not interchangeable.

Look for a named organization, a working contact route, previous results, and a coherent explanation of what happens after submission. Missing information is a reason to investigate, not automatic proof of wrongdoing.

Compare the cost with the actual benefit

Make a small comparison sheet with entry fee, required membership, optional feedback, prize, publication opportunity, and response timing. Keep optional purchases separate from the basic entry cost.

Writer Beware’s contest guidance discusses problems including questionable organizers, unclear judging, and contests that function primarily as sales opportunities. Its useful principle is to examine the whole arrangement rather than treating a fee alone as either proof of legitimacy or proof of a scam.

Check whether winning creates pressure to buy an anthology, a certificate, a promotional package, or another service. Ask what you receive without making those additional purchases.

Read the terms before polishing the story

Identify eligibility, word limits, theme, prior-publication policy, simultaneous-submission rules, and any restrictions on AI assistance. The Australasian Horror Writers Association’s competition guidelines illustrate how specific such conditions can be, including anonymous judging and restrictions on AI-aided work.

Read any publication or rights terms in full. Do not rely on a summary that says you “keep your copyright” while ignoring what permission the organizer also requests. If wording is unclear, ask the organizer for clarification before entering; this guide cannot interpret every contract for you.

Keep a short, usable shortlist

Choose a few contests that fit the story you have, not dozens that require reshaping it into incompatible forms. Save the current rules, source URL, deadline with time zone, and confirmation of submission.

After the result, record what you learned: whether communication matched the promise, whether feedback was useful, and whether the experience justified its cost. That record turns future entries into considered decisions instead of repeated hopeful guesses.

To submit a horror short story, confirm that it meets the current competition rules, revise the story, prepare the requested file, remove identifying information if judging is anonymous, and submit through the official channel before the deadline. Save the exact version and the receipt. The organizer’s instructions take priority over any general manuscript template.

The process is easiest when you separate two jobs: making the story work for a reader and making the entry usable for the competition staff.

Check eligibility before editing for format

Read the rules from beginning to end. Confirm genre, theme, word count, language, age or location requirements, prior-publication policy, and whether simultaneous submissions are allowed.

Check how the organizer treats online posting. A story shared publicly on a blog may count as previously published even if you never sold it. Also read the AI policy: restrictions can cover assistance as well as generated final prose. The AHWA competition guidelines provide an example of both restrictions. Do not assume that every organizer uses the same definitions.

If a rule is genuinely unclear, ask a short factual question through the official contact route. Keep the answer with your entry records.

Revise for the reader’s experience

Read the opening without the explanatory paragraph you would normally give a friend. Can a new reader identify the situation and the source of pressure? They do not need every answer, but they need a reason to keep reading.

Then check the middle. Each important scene should change the character’s options, the reader’s understanding, or the cost of continuing. Repeating the same ominous sign three times is not automatically escalation.

Finally, test the ending against the story’s promise. A final revelation should change the meaning of what came before or complete a consequence already in motion. It should not require an afterword explaining why the reader was supposed to be frightened.

Prepare the file the organizer requested

Use the required file type, naming convention, spacing, font, and title-page rules. If no format is specified, use a clear, conventional manuscript layout and avoid decorative horror fonts that slow reading.

For anonymous judging, check the title page, headers, footers, filename, document properties, and comments for identifying information. Keep contact details in the submission form or cover note only where requested. Export a clean copy rather than sending a file full of tracked revisions.

Open the exported file on its own. Check that the beginning and ending are present, paragraph breaks survived, and no text is clipped or missing.

Keep the cover note brief

Supply the requested facts: story title, word count, category, and any eligibility statement. Add a biography only if asked. A long explanation of the theme or an apology for your experience level does not help the organizer process the entry.

Use the official entry link or address. Review any fee and terms before submitting. Do not pay an unexpected third party because an unsolicited message claims to represent the competition.

Record the submission and move on

Save the final file, rules, confirmation, payment receipt if relevant, and expected response window. Record whether the story must remain exclusive during consideration.

If you discover an error afterward, follow the organizer’s replacement or withdrawal policy rather than sending several unrequested versions. Then return to another project. The submitted story deserves your care, but it does not need to become the only story you are allowed to think about.

A useful horror writing prompt gives a character an ordinary need, introduces one disturbing change, and leaves room for a consequential choice. For a short-story contest, the premise also needs to fit the word limit and theme. A strange image can start the process, but a story needs something to happen because of it.

The prompts below are AI-assisted editorial exercises, not entries or a promise of contest eligibility. Some competitions prohibit AI-aided work, including more than finished generated prose. Check the rules before using an externally supplied prompt for a submission; where assistance is prohibited or unclear, develop your premise independently instead. The AHWA guidelines are one example of an explicit restriction.

Six compact horror prompts

The apartment inspection. A tenant receives a checklist for rooms their apartment does not contain. Every item they mark “not applicable” becomes visible behind the next door. What practical reason prevents them from simply leaving?

The borrowed silence. A recording technician can remove one unwanted sound from any recording. After removing a persistent whisper, they discover that someone in the room can no longer speak. What would make them use the tool again?

The replacement key. A locksmith makes a duplicate that opens the customer’s home as it existed on a particular night. The customer insists that one more copy will let them change what happened. What does the locksmith need to know before deciding?

The museum closing time. A small museum’s visitors leave ordinary lost property: gloves, umbrellas, a child’s drawing. One evening the labels begin listing the names of people who have not arrived yet. What is the curator willing to mislabel?

The maintenance request. A building’s repair system approves work only when a resident agrees to forget the damaged room. The repairs are excellent. Why does one resident need to keep remembering a room nobody else can find?

The familiar voice. A radio volunteer receives a caller whose voice is unmistakably their own, asking them to read tomorrow’s weather. Each correction to the forecast changes something outside the studio. What would make accuracy dangerous?

Turn the premise into a character problem

Choose one prompt and identify the person who has the most difficult decision inside it. “Someone discovers a strange key” leaves almost every possibility open. “The locksmith must decide whether to duplicate it before the customer returns” creates an immediate task.

Give the character a reason to continue that makes sense before the supernatural element appears. Work, loyalty, curiosity, responsibility, and an unfinished promise can all supply motivation without requiring the character to ignore obvious alternatives.

Choose one consequence to follow

For a short story, resist adding a second mythology whenever the first problem becomes difficult. Ask what follows from the rule already established. If repairing a room removes a memory, whose interests benefit from repeated repairs?

Write down the choice, its immediate result, and the new problem that result creates. This is an exercise in cause and effect, not a requirement that every story use a twist ending.

Leave yourself room to invent

Change the setting, relationship, narrative form, and outcome. Avoid merely filling in the blanks of a premise someone else has already resolved. The most interesting development is often the detail that comes from your own observation of work, place, or conversation.

Before entering any resulting story, revisit the competition’s authorship and assistance rules. If this exercise makes the work ineligible, keep it as practice. A useful writing session does not have to become a contest submission to be worthwhile.

Flash horror tells a complete story in a small space by concentrating on one meaningful change and its consequence. Start close to the pressure point, give the character a choice, and let the ending alter the situation or the reader’s understanding. Brevity alone does not make a fragment feel finished.

There is no universal word limit for flash fiction. A contest’s own definition controls eligibility, so confirm the current limit before designing a story around a number you found elsewhere.

What makes a very short story complete?

Completeness is a relationship between setup and consequence. The opening establishes something the reader can understand; the ending changes it in a way the story has earned.

A person hearing a noise is a situation. A person choosing to answer the noise, and discovering what that answer commits them to, begins to create a story. The consequence does not need to resolve every mystery. It needs to satisfy the particular tension the opening created.

Try describing the piece in two sentences: what changes, and what that change costs. If the second sentence only promises that something frightening might happen later, the draft may still be an opening.

Start where the ordinary pattern breaks

You rarely need a full biography before the disturbance. Select the ordinary detail that makes the change legible: a routine, an object in its usual place, or a familiar response that suddenly fails.

Specificity can do more work than explanation. A character checking the same lock for the third time suggests a practical relationship to the door. A paragraph saying that the character has always been cautious may use more space while giving the reader less to observe.

This is not a ban on reflection or slow beginnings. It is a way to ask whether each sentence creates information the ending will use.

Limit the number of moving parts

Choose a small cast, a manageable time span, and one central pressure. A short word count makes every new name, location, rule, and historical event expensive to explain.

If a sentence introduces a secret society, an ancient curse, and a second timeline, ask which element actually changes the character’s decision. Save the others for another story if they are only decorating the atmosphere.

Use implication where the reader has enough evidence to make the connection. Do not remove the information needed to understand the action and call the resulting confusion mystery.

Make the ending a consequence

An ending can reveal, reverse, confirm, or leave the character facing an irreversible choice. It does not always need a surprise identity or a final exclamation.

Read backward from the last line. Which earlier detail makes it work? If the answer is none, plant a fair connection or change the ending. A twist that could be attached to any unrelated opening is probably not carrying this story’s particular weight.

Revise in separate passes

First check cause and effect. Then cut repeated information. Only after that should you compress individual phrases. Deleting necessary transitions to meet a limit can make a polished-looking story harder to understand.

Read aloud to find accidental repetition and awkward rhythm. Ask a reader what happened and what changed, rather than asking only whether they liked it.

For competition use, confirm anonymity, publication history, and permitted assistance as well as length. Keep the final entry distinct from workshop notes and earlier versions. The aim is a small story with a complete effect, not a longer story that has simply had its breathing room removed.

Prepare a horror screenplay for competition by checking eligibility, revising the dramatic action, using a readable screenplay format, and exporting the exact file the organizer requests. Verify page limits, anonymity, authorship rules, and submission terms before paying. A polished PDF cannot compensate for entering the wrong category.

Treat the process as three passes: does the story work, can a reader follow the script, and does the entry meet the rules? Keeping those questions separate makes revision more efficient.

Match the script to the competition

Confirm whether the call accepts features, shorts, television pilots, or another format. Horror competitions may also accept related genres, but that does not make every dark drama eligible.

Screamfest’s screenplay submission page is an example of a genre-specific official entry source. Read the current rules linked by the organizer rather than relying on an old deadline roundup. A previous year’s rules can describe a different entry window or requirement.

Check fees, optional coverage, revisions after entry, and what finalists or winners actually receive. A competition result is not a guarantee of representation, financing, or production.

Revise the horror as visible and audible action

A screenplay has to communicate what can be staged, seen, or heard. If a passage explains that a character feels an ancient evil but gives no observable event, consider what the scene asks an audience to notice.

Track the escalation. Does a new encounter change the character’s information, options, or relationships? If several scenes reproduce the same scare, changing their location may not be enough to make them distinct.

Check the practical objective in each sequence. A character who needs to retrieve something, protect a relationship, finish a job, or escape a specific obstacle gives the reader a way to follow the action even while the larger threat remains mysterious.

Use formatting to support the read

Clear scene headings, concise action, consistent character names, and readable dialogue make the script easier to evaluate. The Academy’s screenwriting resources include a formatting sample and actual fellowship scripts. They are useful references for convention, not a promise that one rigid layout guarantees acceptance.

Follow the contest’s explicit formatting instructions where provided. Avoid relying on colored text, decorative type, or illustrations to carry information the script itself needs to communicate.

Do not force the page count by shrinking type or margins. If the draft is over the allowed length, revise the material or choose an appropriate category.

Prepare a clean submission copy

Export a PDF if that is the requested format and inspect it after export. Check the title page, page numbering, scene breaks, dialogue at page boundaries, and final page. Remove tracked changes and comments.

If judging is anonymous, remove personal information wherever the rules require, including the filename and document properties. Preserve your own working copy separately; anonymizing an entry does not mean losing your records of authorship.

Submit the correct version and keep the receipt

Name the final file clearly and record its date. Supply a logline, synopsis, biography, or other material only as requested. Check the uploaded preview if the platform provides one.

Save the rules, entry confirmation, and payment record. If you later need to withdraw or replace the script, follow the stated process. Your goal is a professional, readable entry whose administrative details let the reader concentrate on the horror on the page.

The strongest horror costume ideas for a contest are easy to understand from a distance and reward a closer look. A haunted portrait, a cursed archivist, a silent-film phantom, or an abandoned attraction’s caretaker can all work without an expensive replica or a dangerous prop. Choose the idea that fits the contest’s judging criteria and your available making time.

A costume contest may judge craftsmanship, performance, resemblance, originality, or a combination. Read those criteria before deciding what “best” means for this event.

Haunted portrait: build around a frame and a pose

Create a lightweight frame effect around an old-fashioned portrait character, with painted cracks on costume fabric and a deliberately still presentation. The idea should read before anyone studies the details.

Keep any frame compact enough to move through doors and avoid obstructing others. Test how it attaches, whether you can remove it easily, and whether the event permits that size of prop. The eerie effect can come from a precise pose rather than restricted vision or uncomfortable construction.

Cursed archivist: make the details tell one story

Start with practical clothing and add a small collection of fictional catalog labels, an invented institution badge, and a closed book whose cover suggests something has gone wrong. Choose one visual rule: every label has the same impossible date, or every document has been assigned to the wearer.

A few legible details are more effective than dozens of tiny references that nobody can read. Keep invented records fictional; real personal documents and identifying information are unnecessary materials for a costume.

Silent-film phantom: use a limited palette

A black, white, and gray costume can suggest a figure stepping out of an old screen. Use silhouette, fabric contrast, and a short rehearsed gesture to establish the effect.

This is a useful option when you want atmosphere without elaborate machinery. Check the event’s makeup and mask policies, and keep your vision and movement clear. A costume should still work when you are walking normally between the stage and the rest of the venue.

Abandoned-attraction caretaker: let wear patterns carry the idea

A fictional work uniform, an invented attraction logo, and a ring of obviously decorative oversized keys can imply a larger haunted setting. Add distressing where clothing would plausibly wear rather than covering every surface indiscriminately.

Keep the character tied to an invented place and story. You do not need to imitate a real emergency worker, use realistic weapons, or turn a real tragedy into decoration to create an unsettling role.

How do you adapt an idea to the rules?

Check entry category, age division, construction requirements, permitted assistance, stage time, and restrictions on purchased components. Document your making process if craftsmanship judging requests it. Credit collaborators accurately.

Prop rules vary. Midsummer Scream’s FAQ is one example of a convention publishing specific costume and prop restrictions. Read the current event’s own rules; do not assume that a prop accepted elsewhere will be allowed.

What should you test before contest day?

Try sitting, walking, using stairs where relevant, carrying your belongings, and removing the costume. Rehearse the stage moment in the shoes you will wear. Keep attachments secure and avoid loose pieces that can become trip hazards.

Photograph the costume from the distance at which judges will see it. If the concept disappears, simplify or strengthen the silhouette. A clear idea with a confident presentation often communicates more than an elaborate build that needs a long explanation.