You've probably seen the ads. They pop up in your Instagram feed or get shoved into your inbox by a well-meaning guidance counselor. "Enter this contest! Win $5,000! Get into Harvard!" Honestly, most of it is noise. But if you’re a teenager who actually likes to write—or a parent trying to help one navigate the mess of college apps—finding the right writing contests for high schoolers is kind of a big deal. It’s not just about the money, though a check for a few grand is obviously great. It’s about the "social proof."
Colleges see thousands of kids with 4.0 GPAs. They don't see many kids who have been recognized by the Alliance for Young Artists & Writers.
But here’s the thing: most people approach this all wrong. They blast out the same mediocre poem to twenty different places and wonder why they get twenty form rejection letters. Writing for a contest is fundamentally different from writing for an English teacher. Your teacher has to grade your paper. A contest judge is looking for any reason to put your entry in the "no" pile so they can go get lunch.
The Heavy Hitters You Can’t Ignore
If we’re talking about writing contests for high schoolers that actually move the needle, we have to start with the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards. This thing is the granddaddy of them all. It’s been around since 1923. Sylvia Plath won it. Stephen King won it. Amanda Gorman won it.
The scale is massive. We're talking about roughly 300,000 entries a year. Because it starts at a regional level, it’s not just one giant black hole where your work disappears. You can win a Gold Key or Silver Key in your local region before you even head to the national stage.
It's weirdly specific, too. They have categories for everything from "Critical Essay" to "Science Fiction & Fantasy." If you’re a horror nerd, don’t try to write a "literary" story about a dying grandfather just because you think it sounds more prestigious. Scholastic loves voice. They love stuff that sounds like it was actually written by a teenager, not a 45-year-old trying to sound like a teenager.
Then there’s the YoungArts National Arts Competition. This is arguably more "prestigious" in the eyes of elite art schools, but it is incredibly hard to get into. Winners get to go to Miami for "YoungArts Week." It’s basically a week of hanging out with some of the best teen artists in the world. If you make it to the "Finalist" level, you’re essentially a D1 athlete but for metaphors.
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Why You Should Probably Skip the "No-Name" Contests
I see this all the time. A student finds a random website that looks like it was designed in 2004, offering a $100 prize for a "Creative Writing Contest."
Stop.
Unless the organization has a clear history, a reputable board of directors, or a partnership with a university, it might be a data-mining scheme. Or worse, a "vanity" contest. You know the ones. They tell you that you’re a "finalist" and then ask you to pay $80 to buy the anthology that your poem is printed in. That isn't a win. That’s a transaction.
Real writing contests for high schoolers—the ones that matter—usually have a small entry fee ($5 to $20) or no fee at all. And they almost always offer fee waivers if you can't afford it. If a contest feels like it's trying to sell you something, trust your gut. It probably is.
The "Secret" Strategy: Go Local or Go Niche
Everyone and their brother is entering the New York Times Student Editorial Contest. It’s a great contest, don’t get me wrong. But you’re competing against the entire planet.
Have you looked at your state’s Poetry Society? What about the local library’s short story competition?
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There’s a specific kind of magic in niche contests. Take the John F. Kennedy Profile in Courage Essay Contest. It sounds intimidating, right? But it has a very specific prompt: write about an act of political courage by a U.S. elected official who served during or after 1917.
Most kids are too lazy to do the research required for that. They want to write about their summer camp experience. If you’re willing to spend three days in a library (or deep in a digital archive) researching an obscure senator from the 1950s, your odds of winning skyrocket.
Other Niche Options to Consider:
- The Ocean Awareness Contest: This is huge for kids who care about the environment. They want art, poetry, and film that tackles climate change.
- Bennington Young Writers Awards: Run by Bennington College. If you win this, you’re basically signaling to every liberal arts college in the country that you’re the real deal.
- The Concord Review: Okay, this isn't technically a "contest" in the traditional sense, but getting published here is the "holy grail" for history buffs. It's the only quarterly journal in the world that publishes secondary students' academic research papers.
How to Actually Win (According to People Who Judge)
I’ve talked to judges from various writing contests for high schoolers, and they all say the same thing: "I'm bored."
They read fifty essays about "how hard the pandemic was." They read fifty poems about "a rose wilting."
If you want to win, you have to be surprising. This doesn't mean you need to write about something crazy like space aliens—unless that's your thing. It means you need to find the "weird" detail in an ordinary story.
Instead of writing about "grief" in a general sense, write about the specific way your grandmother smelled like peppermint and mothballs, and how her kitchen floor felt like ice in July. Specificity is the antidote to boredom.
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Also, for the love of everything, follow the formatting rules. If the contest asks for Double Spaced, Times New Roman, 12pt font, and you send a single-spaced block of text in Comic Sans, they will throw it away. They won't even read the first sentence. It’s a test of whether you can follow instructions.
The Mental Game of Rejection
You’re going to lose.
A lot.
Even the best writers—the ones who end up with book deals and Pulitzers—spent their teen years getting rejected from writing contests for high schoolers. It’s part of the process.
The mistake is thinking that a "no" means your writing is bad. It might just mean your story didn't vibe with that specific judge on that specific Tuesday. Maybe they just read a story very similar to yours ten minutes ago. Maybe they have a weird bias against stories set in the Midwest.
Treat every contest as a deadline. The real "win" isn't the trophy; it's the fact that you actually finished a piece of work and polished it to a high standard. That’s a skill most adults haven't mastered.
Practical Steps to Start Today
Don't just bookmark this and forget about it. If you’re serious, you need a system.
- Create a "Contest Calendar." Use a spreadsheet. List the name, the deadline, the word count, and the link.
- Audit your old work. Most of these contests allow you to submit things you wrote for school, as long as they meet the criteria. Don't start from scratch if you already have a killer essay sitting in your Google Drive.
- Find a "Cold Reader." Don't give it to your mom. She’ll tell you it’s great because she loves you. Give it to a friend who is a harsh critic or a teacher who doesn't mind hurting your feelings a little bit.
- Check the "Eligibility" fine print. Some contests are only for juniors and seniors. Some are only for residents of certain states. Don't waste your time on something you can't actually win.
- Focus on the "Big Three." If you're overwhelmed, just commit to three: Scholastic, one local contest, and one niche contest that fits your specific interest (like science or history).
Writing is a lonely hobby. Entering a contest makes it feel a bit more real. It connects you to a wider world of people who care about the same things you do. Even if you never get a trophy, the act of putting your work out there changes how you see yourself. You stop being "a kid who writes" and start being a writer. There’s a big difference.