A deadly nightmare

When I was 17, my French professor Henri Chalifour encouraged me to participate in a literary contest organized on the occasion of the Salon du livre, a popular book fair held in Montreal.

Up until then, I had never written anything, let alone fiction good enough for a provincial literary contest. However, I had read every book written by Agatha Christie, the famed mystery novelist.

The contest required submission of a short story.

Here's where my life, once again, seemed to slip away from my control. I can't remember what happened exactly. I only remember that somebody called me and announced that I had won the literary prize (an electronic Brother typewriter). I was quite surprised when I heard the news. I did not expect to win. I just wrote what I had to write.

My short story, titled "Un Cauchemar... Mortel !" (A Deadly Nightmare), was about a young man who, somehow, let the past take over his life.

I think the judges liked the dramatic ending. The story was a mixture of autobiography (it was about the Vietnam war) and fiction. The style of writing was deeply personal. In fact, it was written like the confession of a criminal who had just committed murder.

So that was 1986.

Surprisingly, the following year, I entered another literary contest and won again ($500). This time, however, it was a poetic essay about the plight of the homeless.