At some point when I was younger, I realized that I was never going to be a major award winner. Oh, I had the dreams. Don’t we all?
Some of them were purely ridiculous for the lower-middle-class girl living in western Oregon, such as the Maclay Cup or Good Hands, both higher-end East Coast equestrian equitation awards that required more of an investment in quality horses and quality instruction than my parents were willing to pay (as in: nope to anything but the cheapest horse and nope to lessons beyond what I could get in 4H club meetings). Others were aspirational—earning a spot on the New York Times bestseller list before I hit the age of thirty.
But one thing I knew not to count upon was to be called forward at some school assembly or another to be honored. I wasn’t in the right cliques. Wasn’t favored by the right teachers. My math and PE grades kept me off of the Honor Roll; I didn’t sing well enough to be a soloist in choir much less act well enough to be selected to perform in the school plays; I knew better than to try out for cheer or rodeo princess; and none of the assorted merit groups were at all interested in picking me.
As for extracurriculars, while I was good enough to win championships in 4H chicken showmanship I wasn’t good enough to earn any 4H awards. But the 4H champion chicken showmanship award is good for a laugh or two. That’s two of my three lifetime trophies, complete with faux golden chicken on top.
The pattern has continued throughout my life. I realized pretty quickly that most of the time, no matter what was said, awards end up being a reflection of how many friends you have and how popular you are. Many alleged “merit” awards end up being a case of popularity rather than based on skill or quality of work. It’s not always an individual’s popularity, either, but can be affected by the popularity of superiors or the institution an individual is connected to if it’s a professional award.
By this point y’all are rolling your eyes and marking this one off to sour grapes.
Possibly.
But it’s a reality.
I’ll also add that friends of mine are doing well on the awards front, and I’m happy for them—as I have always been.
For me, though?
I’m feeling pretty jaded about awards for me these days, which is…why I’m not writing this as a writing awards eligibility post. I started noticing a few years back that award winners often were the best networked writers. Not always, mind you. However, enough of them happened to be that way.
The size of the award and how venerated it was really wasn’t a factor. Awards based on merit could come from all levels. However…most of ‘em also depended on popularity and awareness of the individual person’s work at some level of the competition. In other words, at the early stages, certain people had networked sufficiently and made enough friends to earn enough nominations to make it to the next stage of competition.
Is that truly a representation of quality, or is it a measure of how big a following someone can attract?
I dunno. Quality of work plus current appeal plus a large network appears to be the magic formula for making it into competition for awards. I go back and forth as to whether I’m disqualified on only two grounds or if I fail in all three areas. Clearly I’m failing in creating those networks. Current appeal? Oh hell, if my short story sales are any indicator, I unfailingly run about ten years ahead of current trends. Plus it really appears that to get anywhere in my genre of choice, I need to have gaming experience and I’ve never been a gamer. As for quality of work…well, I am not the best judge of that.
At this point, I’ve decided that my writing is never going to sell big, is never going to win awards, and I might be briefly fortunate enough in a few years after my death for someone to pick up my work and decide that I’m an undiscovered gem. The only reason I keep doing it is because I want to tell these stories.
Do people want to read them? Damned if I know. There are those folx out there who swear up and down that all I need to do is spend enough money on promotion and all of those sweet, sweet sales and recognition will come my way. That I need to embark on a dizzying whirl of promotional in-person appearances at god knows what cost to my bank balance and my health.
Yeah. Riiiiiight. I’ve been around the publishing business long enough that I know better. Look.
I did the regional convention circuit for several decades, before Covid.
I ran a fiction newsletter on Substack serializing a couple of my books for a couple of years, along with assorted books on Kindle Vella.
Results were not encouraging. No feedback. Minimal interest. Minimal purchases of my books (and keep in mind, as a self-published writer, I regularly check my sales dashboards so I KNOW when someone actually buys something instead of saying they bought something).
Granted, I kinda sorta participated on appropriate social media to promote the work but I didn’t buy ads—which, at least for Vella, appeared to be questionable as far as return on investment. I didn’t possess the emotional energy to do the social media dance sufficiently to get attention. I guess.
After finishing the last Vella serial, I stopped posting there. I deleted the fiction Substack. I’m not going to in-person conventions because at my age, and with my particular respiratory and allergy conditions (as well as people in my life I’d be risking), picking up a bug, any bug, is not a good idea.
Ah well. I’ve been an obscure wallflower all of my life. That appears to be the role assigned to me. There’s not much of a chance that things are going to change, that lightning is going to strike, that someday I’ll get that amazing call that is for real and not an illusory moment that turns out to be tarnished gold instead of the real thing (which has happened twice). I’m getting to be too old to believe that’s going to happen to me.
Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna craft my work mindfully, because I care too damn much about the work to not do that. I am dedicated to my stories and my characters. I have to do right by them.
But as far as hoping that they’re gonna get read by more than a handful of people?
That ship sailed long ago.
So yeah. I wrote stuff this year that’s probably eligible for something.
Not gonna bother bugging you all about nominating anything I write, because it wouldn’t happen anyway.
But hey. If you know someone who isn’t generally well-known, who is starting out on their writing journey, who has promise but not a lot of connections and ties?
NOMINATE THEM.
Give someone a bit of hope, okay?
This is such a sweet post...feel like I'm being called out though lol. I will be purchasing a book ;)
As someone who has won a few sports trophies...I'll tell ya. It is a very nice feeling to end the season as a champion. Those moments stick with me.
However, when it comes to writing I get that same high when a piece is finished. It may not be perfect, but when I feel like I captured something...and I'm personally satisfied. That moment is one I treasure.
This is the view point of one of these starting out writers...Thank you for writing this, not because I hope I get nominated. Yeah right. But because you simply share your honest experience and wisdom. Something that comes with years of practice. Thanks again, I really appreciate your perspective. A true writer in my eyes. Look forward to more.