The Rubric

How We Judge

We wanted to create a contest that does not privilege adherence to a specific structure, nor penalize unconventional storytelling.

A story must tell change. Otherwise, what you have is not narrative — it is description.

For sale: baby shoes, never worn.

This is a complete story.

There are no three acts. No exposition. No rising action. No clever language. And yet the emotional impact is undeniable.

The change is implied: there was once a child who might have worn those shoes. Now there is not. The result is final. The world has shifted.

That is story.

Our rubric had to reflect that.

It’s a high standard. We did our best.

At its core, a story must be about something shifting.

Does the protagonist move from one state to another?
Is the transformation significant?
Is it worth telling?

If nothing changes, there is no story.

Change does not happen in a vacuum.

Is there a destabilizing event?
Does resistance create rising pressure?
Do choices lead to consequences?

We are looking for momentum — not drift.

The ending should feel earned.

Does the resolution grow organically from earlier events?
Does it feel like the only honest outcome?
Is it both surprising and inevitable?

When an ending feels arbitrary, the spell breaks. We’re looking for stories that couldn’t have ended any other way.

Structure alone is not enough.

Do we understand why the change matters?
Are the stakes felt, not just described?
Does the ending linger?

We value stories that move the reader, not just impress them.

Execution matters.

Is the prose controlled and intentional?
Is the structure purposeful?
Does the writing serve the transformation?

Style should illuminate the story, not obscure it.