L.K.'s Unofficial Vocal Awards

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You’d think reading a story a day for a year would get repetitive. That’s what I thought when I started the 365 Days of Vocal challenge—expecting it to be a checkbox kind of task, like brushing your teeth or pretending to enjoy small talk at parties. But somewhere between Day 1 and Day 30, it stopped being a routine and became a ritual. Like flipping through records in a dusty shop, not knowing which album you’d take home.

This wasn’t just about reading. It was about tuning in—to voices that roared, whispered, and sometimes left echoes that wouldn’t shut up in my head. Each story was a song, part of an unexpected playlist that shaped the soundtrack of my creative growth. Some tracks made me pause. Others made me want to rewrite everything I’d ever put on paper. And a few? They lit fires I didn’t even know needed kindling.

So here’s the playlist—the stories that weren’t just content, but catalysts.

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Track 1: "New Year's Eve with Mother C" by Mother Combs

Community: Poets

The year kicked off with Mother Combs, and honestly, it felt like that first striking chord of an album you know you’ll have on repeat. New Year’s Eve with Mother C wasn’t just a poem—it was a vibe, drenched in nostalgia and the promise of a good time. It reminded me that poetry could be fun. Sometimes, it’s an invitation to party, collaborate, and start the year off right. Reading this taught me not to take myself so seriously—it's okay to just have fun sometimes.

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Track 2: "The Poet in the Desert" by C. Rommial Butler

Community: Fiction

Butler’s story hit differently. It wasn’t flashy or loud; it was a slow burn, the kind that lingers like the last note of a song fading into silence. The Poet in the Desert felt like standing alone under an endless sky, equal parts insignificant and infinite. It shifted how I think about setting—not just as a backdrop, but as a character itself, breathing alongside the plot. After reading it, I started questioning the spaces in my own work—not the dialogue, not the action, but the air around them. The pauses. The unsaid.

“The bloodhound raised its head, panting in that way that dogs do that makes it seem they are smiling.” That line stuck with me—a simple moment, yet it speaks volumes about observation and detail.

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Track 3: "Unsubscribed" by Atomic Horizon

Community: Critique

This piece hit me in a way I didn’t expect. Before this challenge, I agreed—AI-generated content spammed my feed like an overeager kid at a talent show: loud, relentless, and desperate to be noticed. It irritated me, that nagging pick me energy from algorithms that couldn’t string together a unique thought if they tried. But Unsubscribed shifted something. Through this challenge, I wasn’t just scrolling past noise anymore—I was discovering real masters of their craft, daily. Writers who didn’t need gimmicks or artificial polish because their words breathed authenticity.

This piece made me realize just how important this challenge was—not just for me, but to cut through the bullshit and give real, authentic human writers the audience they deserve.

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Track 4: "Rotherham: A Betrayal of Innocence" by Tales by J.J.

Community: Criminal

Some stories aren’t meant to be comfortable. This one wasn’t. It felt like swallowing glass—necessary, painful, unforgettable. Rotherham: A Betrayal of Innocence didn’t flinch, didn’t soften the edges, and that’s exactly why it stuck with me. It reminded me that storytelling isn’t always about crafting beautiful sentences. Sometimes, it’s about holding up a mirror to the ugliest parts of reality and refusing to look away.

It gave me permission to be braver in my own writing, to stop sanding down the rough edges. Like the exploitation J.J. wrote about—holding a light to expose the ugly truths about the world isn’t just an option; it’s necessary.

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Track 5: "My Goals for 2025" by Jeremy White

Community: Writers

Reading someone else’s goals is like peeking at their journal—intimate, vulnerable, and occasionally cringey (in the best way). But this wasn’t just a list; it was a reminder that growth isn’t linear. It’s messy. It zigzags. It spirals. My Goals for 2025 inspired me to approach my own ambitions not as a checklist, but as a living document—flexible, flawed, and real. It also nudged me to articulate what I want from my writing beyond just, “finish the next piece.”


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Track 6: "Hello Loneliness" by Jessica Lynn Nelson

Community: Confessions

This one felt like reading someone’s deepest, most personal thoughts, but with stellar punctuation. Hello Loneliness didn’t dress up its feelings; it let them sit there—raw and unfiltered. It reminded me that vulnerability isn’t a weakness in writing—it’s the glue.

This piece is raw and doesn’t hold back. As I commented previously, this piece needs to find the right people. If you’re dealing with loneliness or know someone who is, give this a read and share it with others who might benefit from its honesty.

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Track 7: "11 Songs by Madonna That Have Inspired Me Through Dyslexia, Pain, and Life" by Daphasm

Community: Beat

This wasn’t just a playlist—it was a memoir with a beat. It showed me that music isn’t just background noise in stories; it’s the emotional undercurrent. After reading this, I started playing with how I integrate culture into my writing—not as name-drops, but as emotional anchors. Because sometimes, one song lyric can carry more weight than a whole paragraph of exposition.

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Track 8: "Echoes of Tomorrow: A Glimpse into 2050" by Rosemary Augustine

Community: Earth

Speculative fiction often gets lost in the what ifs, but this piece stayed grounded in the what is. It wasn’t about flying cars or dystopian clichés—it was about us. Our choices. Our consequences. It made me rethink how I approach future narratives—not as distant possibilities, but as warnings etched in the present.

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Track 9: "The Impromptu Road Trip" by kp

Community: Photography

Some stories are Polaroids—capturing fleeting moments with blurry edges but vivid emotion. The Impromptu Road Trip felt like flipping through a photo album of someone else’s memories and finding pieces of your own life tucked between the pages. It reminded me that not every story needs a grand plot. Sometimes, it’s the small, unplanned detours that leave the deepest impressions.

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Track 10: "The Lost Colony of Roanoke: America’s Oldest Mystery" by Albert Acromond

Community: Proof

History isn’t dead; it’s just waiting for someone to write it with fresh ink. This piece didn’t just regurgitate facts—it reframed them, breathing life into dusty archives. It inspired me to treat nonfiction with the same narrative care as fiction—to find the heartbeat beneath the headlines.

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Encore: The Editing Lesson

One unexpected side effect of this challenge? I became obsessed with how stories are told, not just what they say. I started noticing the strategic use of bold and italics—not just for emphasis, but as narrative tools. Writers who knew when to shout, when to whisper, and when to let silence speak. It became a study for me—how the rhythm of a sentence changes with a well-placed pause. How formatting isn’t just aesthetic; it’s emotional architecture.

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Final Track: Reflections

This challenge didn’t just ignite my creativity—it redefined it. It taught me that inspiration isn’t a lightning bolt; it’s a slow, steady current. And the Vocal community? They’re the real playlist—a mix of voices, loud and soft, angry and hopeful, that I never knew I needed.

So here’s to the rest of the year: reading, writing, and discovering the songs that haven’t been written yet.

To the authors I’ve included, I hope this is okay. Some pieces are Top Stories, others simply felt important and deserve more reads.

If you’d like to read my original challenge, you can find it here.

Is this something I should do once a month? Let me know in the comments. 👇