The Rambling Epicure is seeking food-related fiction and non-fiction writing entries for our First Annual Food Writing Competition. Winners will be published on The Rambling Epicure and qualify to go on to compete for inclusion in our first annual Food Writers to Keep an Eye On 2014 eBook in November 2014.
Entries should be a maximum of 500 words, and can cover any food-related subject and any travel writing inspired by food. This covers the full spectrum of food and travel writing: memoirs, short stories, reviews, poems, travelogues, essays, guidebooks, lifestyle, adventure, destination features, history, anthropology, etc.
Submissions should demonstrate a passion for food and convey a strong desire to summon up its wonders so as to transport others. It should inform and solicit readers to ask deeper questions about themselves and the world. It should be well crafted; demonstrate animated descriptive skills; have a clear voice and solid structure; and be from a well-defined point of view.
Submissions should be print-ready, in Word format.
Winners will receive:
1st prize 6 hours of free writing instruction
2nd prize 3 hours of free writing instruction
3rd prize 1 ½ hrs of free writing instruction
We have a keen interest in identifying the food writers of the future. Are you one of them?
Many are in graduate programs in Food Studies now. Or they are students in other, less obviously related fields. With the rapidly changing foodscape, they will take on undreamt of challenges. In fact, they have already begun to do so.
Because concision is not only our favorite word, but a guiding principle we hew to and teach, we sponsor a competition four times yearly, for student food writers who have up to 500 words to show us.
Please choose a color:
Meet Jonell Galloway, a freelance writer and editor specialized in French cuisine.
2 months agoby jonell_gallowayMy hair was going from pepper to salt. In the beginning, it was golden like corn tassels and as straight as grass. Then thickets of dark-chocolate brown, so thick that my mother fretted and cried along with me as she tried to remove the tangles. When the sun shone, there was auburn. In time, the white started to slip in like a visitor who came in with the moon, and stayed on, leaving a light silvery halo around my face as I looked into the peeling silver mirror in the morning light. The salt has now gently kissed my brow