Telling Your Heroine's Story Writing Contest: Third Place Winner Wenlin Tan

We Are the Heroines of Our Own Stories

What delivers a Call to a Heroine — and more importantly, what allows her to actually hear it? So many Calls come to us unnoticed, brushed aside in the busyness of life. And then, when one finally breaks through, what compels her to follow it — even when following means leaving everything familiar behind?

Is it destiny? Something placed within her at birth that knows her path and keeps nudging her forward? I'll leave that for you to ponder. Whatever the source, we are grateful for Calls. As Joseph Campbell wrote, they "ring up the curtain" — and the action begins.

Meet Wenlin Tan

Wenlin Tan answered such a Call when she left her home in Singapore and made a new life for herself in Turin, Italy. As a teacher of Embodied Listening, she is perhaps more practiced than most at recognizing when life is speaking. And life, it turns out, had quite a lot to say.

Wenlin is a Singapore-born writer, movement teacher, and rower. After leaving a career in market research, she embarked on a journey of personal transformation through Eastern philosophy and rowing on the Po River. Her writing explores the intersection of ancient wisdom and contemporary life — Daoist philosophy, mindful movement, and the spiritual dimensions of sport. She teaches Qigong while pursuing competitive rowing.

She wrote to me when she submitted her contest entry:

"The constraints of this contest helped me discover what a year of writing couldn't show me — the essential truth of my story. Thank you for creating this space for women's Heroine's Journey stories."

Wenlin didn't know, walking through Valentino Park on that spring day, that her life was about to change. A Call was finding its way to her — and she was open to hearing it.

Silverskiff: A Love Story

Three springs ago, passing through Valentino Park, the most beautiful thing in the world came into my sight: a single scull cutting through the Po - the rower, boat, river, all elements as one. The swirling thoughts from my failing marriage stopped but just for a moment. I was mesmerized. I knew I had to be on that boat, and that single sculler was me.

A year later, I dedicated myself to learning to row alone. As summer's heat diminished, an absurd idea consumed me: Silverskiff, the world-famous endurance regatta, was the perfect metaphor for life itself. If I could navigate the 11km to complete the regatta, it meant I could make it through the separation and whatever challenges lay ahead.

My first challenge came when I told my coach, Emanuele, I wanted to compete. With a steely gaze he said, 'you should finish Silverskiff within an hour.' Sadness and desperation loomed. Training was no longer light and full of wonder, but carried the unbearable burden of that one-hour goal.

I trained religiously, desperate to prove my worth. Three weeks before Silverskiff, as dawn broke without another soul in sight, I went along the race route and returned within an hour and ten minutes, my personal best. It left me hopeful I would close the distance.

But returning from the race, disappointment flooded my heart. I remembered it all: the desperation after I passed Ponte Balbis; stopping to shake my left forearm; the impact from buoys as my boat hit them; the angry voice of a fellow rower shouting at me during the turn. I had practiced the turning maneuver hundreds of times, but my left arm failed me. I was at my limit.

In the changing room, rowers chattered excitedly. I headed straight for the toilet, slamming the cubicle door shut, tears pouring down my face. My left arm had betrayed me: I had failed.

In the weeks following, I descended into a pit of self-blame and grief. An uncanny feeling swirled within me: I had been here before, seven years ago in Singapore - a failing romantic relationship, burnout at work, a difficult relationship with a controlling father…

The turning point came when Coach Fede's words, like icy water, awakened me from my stupor: 'You're taking this too seriously, Silverskiff is a game!'

Swept up by others' expectations, I had forgotten that, however poorly I rowed, I realized my personal goal: I completed the entire 11km without falling into the water or causing harm to others. If Silverskiff was a game, I survived all the traps and completed Level 1. Yet I had lost the simple joy of rowing.

Serendipitously, my mentor appeared, and as Autumn darkened into Winter, behind him in the double scull (2x), I discovered the magic of feeling the boat slide underneath us. Three months later, racing during D'inverno Sul Po, joy carried me through the final stretch as my left forearm failed again - but this time I gave it my all.

Now, with Silverskiff 2025 approaching, I am convinced I was terribly mistaken: The single skiff is not the most beautiful boat in the world.

Spring 2025 I discovered the magic of the sweep pair (2-). Unlike the 2x which even novices can row, the 2- requires that each rower is 'whole': highly competent independently, yet also giving equal contribution in perfect synchronization to contribute to a greater Whole.

The 2- is called the boat of patience: it requires sustained mutual commitment; true balanced partnership cultivated through exquisite listening, feeling each other's rhythm, adjusting constantly, being in conversation with each other, the boat and the water.

This feeling of being whole on my own, while being part of a greater Whole with someone else is truly exquisite. It helped me understand why after Silverskiff 2024 I finally had the courage to leave the 2x that wasn't right for me, to live and be on my own. Because it is the 2- I have been seeking all along, but to become worthy of it, I had to first learn to be capable in the 1x - how to be whole, happy and competent alone.

Though I have not yet found a suitable 2- partner in the boat, intuition tells me I may have met my 2- partner in life. Even better, I now truly understand and am ready to take on Silverskiff 2025, or any race, any endeavor in life, the best way: with supreme effort yet playfully like a game, with a heart full of love.

Listen to my recent podcast with Wenlin to learn more about her!

Information About Our Writing Contest Process

We open the doors to our Heroine’s Writing Contest registration during the first week in September, and we will announce the winners of our 4th Annual Heroine’s Writing Contest in January 2027.

Margaret Jones, Kim Kalicky, Kathy Swaar and Phyllis Blackstone are our four distinguished judges, again, who have a month to read the entries and score them. They are talented women – authors and heroines in their own right. We've linked their names to their sites. Take some time to check them out. You'll be glad you did!

The entries are evaluated according to the contest criteria. First Place went to Ellen Webster, Second to Dory Cote, Third to Wenlin Tan (her story will be in the March blog), and Honorable Mention to kdbdominguez (her story will appear in the April blog).