Win or Lose ...

This is one of the few entries I’ve repeated on Grace Notes more than once. I usually post it on an annual basis, and usually earlier in the year than this. I’m late this time, because I really had no intention of publishing it again. But because of some recent emails and conversations I’ve had with other writers, it may just become a "tradition," with some modifications.

This is the time of year–well, actually it starts earlier than this, but especially as the ICRS Convention (what we used to call "CBA") draws near–when there’s a lot of buzz and speculation about awards making the rounds. There are so many aspects to this subject that it’s almost exhausting to tackle it, so I’m grateful to have a "collage" of thoughts from which I can draw more than once. (I originally made this a combined entry of things I've written over the years about the subject of awards. Believe it or not, I've condensed it from last year.)

A caveat (or two) first: I have no ax to grind about contests or awards. Many of you already know that–at my request–for several years now my books have not been entered by my publishers or by myself in any award events. That wasn't always the case. The first novels I wrote were entered in the usual contests and did include a few award winners. That was several books ago, and the change I made came about as a personal and private matter between the Lord and me. There’s nothing else to say on that subject except that I can tell you that while refraining from these events stung a little at first, ultimately it brought me some surprising graces I never could have predicted, one of the most meaningful being the incredible sense of freedom that allows me to write without ever having to question myself as to whether my work is "award material." Another benefit–probably the most important of all–is that it’s made it wonderfully easy for me to cheer on all my writer-friends and other nominees, rejoicing with them when they win–without ever being tempted to wonder why my book didn't win.

That said, because I have no stake in the practice whatsoever, the real heart of this entry has nothing to do with me, but how we as writers view awards and how our perspective may eventually affect us. It should be obvious that if I didn't believe this to be a crucial issue for writers, I wouldn't make the effort to write an entire entry–a lengthy one at that–around it.

Please hear me clearly when I say that I am not suggesting that my personal way of handling the awards issue should influence anyone else’s thinking. We all recognize that God takes us in different directions, by different paths, to different places, and that applies to awards as well as any other area of a writer’s life. Nor do I believe, and would never suggest, that there is anything inherently wrong with contests, although I don't view an award in itself as a worthy goal for an author to work toward. Our reasons for writing and what we hope to accomplish can be many, but if the only motivation were to capture awards–and I’m not acquainted with even one writer who’s wired this way–then I doubt that that motivation would sustain us for very long. To refrain from entering award events is my way–I don’t for a moment suggest it should be yours. The only way for any one of us to handle the awards issue should be God’s way, as He makes His will in the matter clear to you.

My point–my only point–in this is to encourage you, actually to urge you, not to measure your value as a writer based on whether or not your work wins awards. Please, don’t ever give in to the lie that your worth as a writer or even as a person is somehow less because somewhere a judge or two hasn’t seen fit to place your writing efforts at the top of his list. That’s a tool of the adversary that’s tied directly to an attempt to discourage you; don’t be taken in by it. You might be surprised at the number of widely published and critically lauded authors who feel "rejected" and deflated when their work isn't recognized with an award. But those reactions shouldn't surprise us: the fanfare and publicity and emphasis placed on awards by some make it nearly impossible for an author to ignore this issue, and he/she is often deeply hurt and discouraged by being passed over, especially more than once. Even the failure to be chosen as a finalist can prove injurious if we give credence to the lie that our efforts are somehow a mark of our value.

A loss in self-esteem and self-confidence, combined with disappointment, discouragement, and even despair can set in with some authors who tend to see their lack of awards as a judgment on their worth as a writer. This is a very real problem that continues from year to year. It seems that every year I hear from, or of, a few who are tempted to simply throw in the towel and leave publishing altogether, because this year–again–their books were overlooked. They buy into the lie that the quality of their work is somehow lacking, and that perhaps they shouldn’t be writing at all.

There’s more to this than the effects of not winning an award. I’m aware of a few writers who admit that winning an award is often accompanied by its own set of problems, that once they’ve won an award, it’s a source of discouragement for them when the event comes around each year if they don’t win again or at least final. They tend to become anxious and worry about why their work this year wasn’t deemed as high in quality as it was last year.

Some have questioned if sales are an issue for those writers who seldom if ever win awards. I don’t have an answer for this based on fact, but most editors and publishers I’ve talked with over the years don’t seem to think awards have any measurable affect on sales, and a number of award-winning authors have indicated that’s the case with their own sales, that they’ve seen no noticeable difference. Naturally, some have probably had a different experience in this area. Also, as one author pointed out during a discussion a couple of years ago, although awards may not affect an author’s sales, they might make a difference to some acquisitions editors or publishers. An award-winning writer or her agent might find it easier to place her work. That’s definitely something to consider in today’s crowded and highly competitive publishing industry. As for sales, however, the reality is that most readers–and many bookstore owners–don't care about awards in the least; they don’t even know about them, or if they do, they have no opinion as to whether they’re important, so awards themselves aren’t likely to influence their buying habits.

To look at all sides of this, another possible benefit of awards is that they might help to foster the desire for excellence in some authors, and among certain publishers as well. Earlier I said that I don't believe an author should work toward an award as the ultimate goal. But some authors need more encouragement than others, sometimes in the form of recognition, so an "eye on the prize" might serve as encouragement for those who need more motivation or affirmation. So long as the award itself doesn't become the primary impetus in striving for excellence, what's the harm? Perhaps none, so long as it’s possible to keep a balance and not over-emphasize the award’s value.

To deal with awards practically and keep things in balance, consider the process itself: a group of people–judges–from different areas of publishing read numerous manuscripts and, although we hope they'll be impartial, their own personal reading taste can not help but enter into their decisions. We'd also like to think that those judges will be reading in their particular areas of "specialization," but that's not always so. Finding enough qualified judges for any given award event is no easy process, and as is the case with any other competitive area, some judges are simply going to be more qualified and more experienced than others. But no matter how many are selected, and no matter how qualified–or not–they may be, the reality is that this is a highly subjective process. (Even the matter of a judge’s qualifications will be subjective, depending on how she’s chosen and who’s making the appointments.)

One of the judges who reads your work may love it and consider it the best effort he’s seen in publishing for years. Another judge may be less enthusiastic, or might see the promise in your writing but not consider it award-winning material just yet. Several eyes will see your work, and you can't assume that their individual assessments will form a collective "yea." That might happen sometimes–but it's not likely to happen all the time. As important as a judge is to the process, it’s unreasonable to expect that judge to approach the process without some personal preferences and opinions.

I've served as a judge. I know how extremely difficult it is to remain entirely impartial, no matter the area in which one is offering an opinion. I also know that judges are not always selected for the categories or genres in which they might be most familiar or experienced. It's a burdensome responsibility, and one with which I've never been completely comfortable.

I don't mean to bludgeon you with this, but I do hope to encourage you to avoid the wounds that can come from this whole contest/award experience, so I’ll repeat it again: this is a highly subjective experience. Don’t allow it to ever become the ultimate goal of your writing efforts. And please–please–don't view it as the end-all judgment of your work. If you want to grant that kind of power to anyone, for goodness' sake, listen to your editor. He or she has worked with you, knows your work, is most likely well-acquainted with the genre in which you write, and is in the best position to offer objective criticism or praise. And whether you win or lose, quickly move beyond the award event to continue your work.

Find a way, whatever works best for you, to keep awards from becoming too important. Remember that contests are (usually) an annual event, and they're quickly forgotten by everyone except–unfortunately–those who don’t take home the prize. But whether you win or don't win, hold this thought: the only award that's truly important, the only one that's worth winning, and the only one that ultimately will not be forgotten is the one for which we're all striving: the words of our Savior (who is, after all, the one, and the only truly qualified judge of our efforts): "Well done, good and faithful servant."

BJ

Comments

[Vicki]

The truth you've shared here is vital to both writing and life in general, BJ. The praise of man sometimes tickles our egos, but I pray we'll look to the Author and Perfector of our faith to keep us steadfast (and not swayed by popular opinion). God bless you so much! Another excellent post.

[Angie]

Wise words, BJ. While I haven't felt similarly convicted about entering awards gigs, I have noticed that several publishers have become increasingly selective about entering books for awards--this pertains, of course, to the contests in which only publishers can enter books. Several pubs are entering only one book per author, and for folks like me, who write several books per year, it's a mixed bag of feelings. At first I wonder why they liked book X and not book Y, but then I can relax in that sense of relief knowing that book Y wasn't subjected to the eyes of judges. :-)

Over and over, we must remind ourselves that we really write for our readers, and our Judge is not a panel, it's the One who looks upon the heart and mind and soul, discerning our intentions as well as what we have done with the gifts we have been given. His standards are not human standards, and his rules are not the ones we cling to so zealously. And for THAT awards ceremony--the Bema seat of Christ--I am eagerly waiting.

Thanks, as always, for speaking in love and grace.

Angie

[Richard Mabry]

BJ,

Your level-headed approach to this subject remains a model and an encouragement to me and to a myriad of others in the field of Christian writing. Thank you for repeating this post. I agree with Kelli--the material belongs on a plaque.

I proudly display above my computer the card that bears your wonderful words:
"It matters not if the world has heard
Or approves or understands...
The only applause we're meant to seek
Is that of nail-scarred hands."
B. J. Hoff

[Kelli]

Brilliant, BJ.
Absolutely brilliant.
We all need to bronze this post and hang it somewhere highly visible :)

Cheering you on,
Kelli