Judge Not by Eric Beetner

What are your thoughts on book contests? Do you believe winning one can further your career? Which ones, if any, do you enter?

I have benefitted from a contest, albeit a short story contest. It was quite a long time ago for an online zine that no longer exists. From that win, I got my first agent. Contests can be a great way to get recognized and to meet people. I have cynical views on some of them, however. 

First and foremost: do not, under any circumstances, ever, ever, not ever, PAY A FEE to enter a contest. I have been a judge in many high-level year-end awards for some of the biggest national organizations. I’ve judged short stories and novels, which means reading hundreds of submissions. Myself and my fellow judges did it all on a volunteer basis. No fees required, and these are prestigious awards that can absolutely boost sales and give you accolades that will go on the front cover of your book. For some reason the hardship of reading means you need to pay someone to do it? No. That doesn’t fly with me. 

There’s also the slightly icky feeling I get when you turn a craft into a competition. I totally get it that if you do get the little gold star on your book, it could mean someone will find it easier, but I don’t like being pitted against my fellow writers. End of the year awards like the Anthonys or the Edgars are peer accolades that feel different than explicitly entering your book into the thunderdome to fight it out among dozens or hundreds of other books. It feels wrong enough to have to grovel on social media each year reminding people that your books is eligible for this, that or the other award, but to take your creation and shove it into the cage with fists up feels weird to me.

And really, every time I submit to an anthology with an open call, it feels like the same process. You’re asking to be judged. But they don’t charge a fee, or of they do I don’t submit. But we writers have countless examples of sending our work out there to be judged. The prize maybe an award or simply publication. The fear and anxiety are the same. Do I really want to add to that? 

And I don’t know of any contest that has the same prestige as a peer-judged award. For many if not most readers, all they need to see are the laurel leafs on the book jacket to know it has been endorsed by someone, somewhere, but I don’t know many readers who go seeking out the winner of some brand new competition with little to no track record. Some readers may wait each year for the winners of the Booker prize to be announced so they know what to add to their book club list, but I don’t see that happening with small, online contests. 

Whether you want to submit is entirely up to you, the author, and if you want to take that swing for the glory, then I support you. Even if it means handing over a few dollars you deem worth it. There is no doubt that any accolade or prize we can use to tout our books as being a quality read is worth a couple of dollars in the end. I think an award win among your promo materials is probably worth more than a blurb from a famous author. It’s validation and makes a potential reader feel safe in their decision to pick your book up off the table. I tend to avoid them for all the reasons mentioned above, but I’ll never begrudge an author their shot. Go for it. Get that gold star. Place it proudly on your book jacket, because it’s not only validation for the reader about to pick up your book, it’s validation for us as writers, and heaven knows we don’t get enough of that.

Winner Winner, I'll Take the Dinner

 

What are your thoughts on book contests? Do you believe winning one can further your career? Which ones, if any, do you enter?

It all depends on your motivation. A writer can look at a contest as a way to test their talent. An athlete trains, and a writer writes. A runner completes the race, a distance covered in a certain amount of time. A writer finishes a work in a genre and with a certain word count. The results, however, are different. Where a runner covers a predetermined distance, at a pace that is mathematical, a writer’s work is subjective, as in subject to the whims and taste of a judge or jurors. 

It is understandable why one takes the measure of their talent because nobody wants to do anything in isolation. The perspective that I think is best to take, and the sanest to adopt is detachment. To quote Lydgate, “You can please some of the people all of the time, you can please all of the people some of the time, but you can't please all of the people all of the time.”

Contests are the collision of commerce with the pitfalls of psychology. Some contests are a consumerist ploy, in that writers may or may not pay a fee, though it’s certain they enter the arena for comparison. The judge could be the Lord High Executioner or a star chamber of agents who hold the pen and paper of a publishing contract.  Thumbs up, thumbs down, or the cold silence of intergalactic space.

I’ve served as a judge and as a juror. I’ll be honest. I didn’t enjoy it, though I am grateful for the experience. I can sympathize with agents because I have seen disasters of manuscripts. The rules can specify margins and fonts, but there is always that special Ken or Karen who thinks the rules need not apply to their Precious. Every. Single. Time.

Regardless of the brain droppings on the pages within, if you can’t follow simple directions, I doubt you are professional in other aspects of your career. It’s a bet that I’ll take without thinking I am James Bond against Le Chiffre in Casino Royale. And then there’s the fundamentals of knowing the rules and expectations of the genre…

The ellipses is intentional because I want to be clear about one thing:

I am not a snob or a purist. I’ve never been jealous or envious of another writer. Honestly. I know how damn hard it is to write something, to disappear behind the page. I admire good writers, no matter their genre or style. We all have unique linguistic fingerprints, and they should be celebrated. I also understand the need for validation.

As for the time I served as a juror, I experienced despair because I felt as if I had read the same damn story a hundred times. The music was in the same key, and there were few variations on the melody. I assume the writers wrote what they thought would appeal and sell, or were somehow infected with the latest enthusiasm. Vigilante noir. Vampires. 50 Shades of Dread.

Alas, we must sell our wares in the Temple of Lucre.

As for winning contests (let’s substitute awards), I really don’t know. At face value, it’s that validation, that recognition we crave, and that should be valued as an accomplishment. Your work, your creation has stood out. My second published short story placed in the top 10 for the Fish Prize, in a field of over 4,000 international submissions. I was overjoyed and proud. I am fortunate to have been listed several times for the Bath and Bridport Prizes in the UK, the Agatha, Anthony, Derringer, Silver Falchion, and took home a Macavity and a Shamus award. I floated to the top, but I am acutely aware that the water is not a lake or a river, but an ocean. Put in cruel terms, I’ve had agents say to me in person, ‘The nominations are nice, but you didn’t win.’ The message there is a point for marketing and the old chestnut that you can’t eat prestige.

Then there are what I call the anti-readers, the people who deliberately won’t read the prize winners because they assume they are elitist, and henceforth die Scheiße.

My take on all of this is to apply the F.I.D.O Method.

Write. Do your best.

There’s a good chance you are like me, your own worst critic of your work, but no matter what you do, you can’t change those fingerprints. Be you. The hecklers will always be in the peanut gallery. The ones who scream the loudest often can’t write one true sentence, so…

F*ck It, Drive On.

And the Winner Is...

 

Photo by Christina Dahl on Unsplash

 

 

What are your thoughts on book contests? Do you believe winning one can further your career? Which ones, if any, do you enter?

I’ve never been considered what one would call lucky. I’ve yet to hit the lottery or win a jackpot at the casino. I’ve never even caught the boquet at a wedding. You can decide on whether that’s luck or not for yourself. So, it’s not surprising that I’m not the most enthusiastic believer in contests. However I can see their worth.

 

Photo by MW on Unsplash

 

I imagine that if I were lucky, or skilled enough to win a contest, maybe that might serve as motivation or validation to push me to write more, so I could enter and win more contest. Or maybe, just write more. Nothng says keep pushing like strangers recognizing that you wrote something worthy enough to stick a trophy on it, or cash. Yes, cash, is much better. But can it further your career? I say, yes.

When you’re a new, unknown writer, it can be daunting to try to build an audience when no one knows your name. According to a quick search on Google there are approximately 11, 000 books released per day. That’s one every seconds or so, if you’re counting. It’s not easy to stand out in that kind of crowd. Being able to say you won or even placed in a reputable writing contest may give your book that bit of an edge to land in a new reader’s hand or Kindle.

I’d imagine that would work well for querying writer’s too. There’s nothing more daunting than getting to the, tell me what you’ve done, section of your query letter, and find yourself staring at that white space of empty accomplishments. Imagine the joy of being able to write, I won this or that contest. Do agents give that manuscript a little bump up the food chain? I couldn’t swear on it, but if I had to place a bet, I’d say yes.

Photo by Brands&People on Unsplash

 

So what’s the downside? Well, I’m not sure if there is a downside, necessarily. There is a debate on whether it’s okay to enter a contest that requires a fee. I stand firmly in the no column on that one. But other’s will argue that a nominal fee for reading and whatnot is acceptable. I think reputation of the contest is important. For instance Writer’s Digest holds an annual contest with entry fees from twenty to thirty dollars. They are very reputable in the writer’s community. I’m fairly sure I may have entered that contest at one point or another. I also entered L. Ron Hubbard’s writing contest a long time ago. There was no entry fee. But I didn’t know about the Scientology thing either.

 

So enter or not. Pay or not. It’s all up to the indivual in the end. But one thing that should not be up for debate or optional. Research! Pantsers and Plotters alike. Do your research or you might end up entering a contest you know nothing about and is totally against your values. Or lose cash. Never good to needlessly lose cash. Happy contesting or not.

 

The Importance of Setting - by Harini Nagendra

This week's topic: How important is setting in your books? Do you write settings that you've never visited, and how do you go about this, if so? Give an example or two of setting in your own work and say how these scenes enhance the plot or create mood.

As a reader, I know I actively seek out books with strong, compelling settings. I look for mystery books set in times I have not lived through, in places I do not know. For me, this is the easiest and most fun approach I can take to learn more about the world and its history. When a good book of fiction gets me interested in learning more about a place or time, I often turn to a non-fiction book or research paper to learn more - but it's fiction that gets me interested in the first place. 

As a writer, while I work on crafting characters and plot, I'm most naturally drawn to setting. I believe a well detailed, believable setting makes the world within which the story or narrative is set come alive, compelling the reader to walk inside the pages, and inhabit the world of the writer alongside their characters.

When a writer chooses a setting, it's important to choose wisely. It’s the backdrop against which your story plays out, the scenery in the background – done well, setting can even take on some of the roles of a character itself, interacting with and influencing other characters to respond in ways that take them out of their comfort zones and make their inner worlds come to life on the page.

A setting can be real or imagined, and can draw on elements of culture, geography, history, environment, climate, economy, society – and much more. 

I set my colonial historical mysteries, The Bangalore Detectives Club series, in Bangalore of the 1920s - I am from Bangalore, but of course I wasn't born in the 1920s. I rely on research that includes old photographs and maps, archival documents and biographies, letters and newspaper articles, oral histories and recipes and other kinds of information to recreate the social, cultural, ecological and urban fabric of colonial Bangalore. 

Here's an excerpt from The Bangalore Detectives Club. Here, my goal is to describe the setting but also use it to draw a picture of the colonial times in which the book is located, and the colonial use of hunting, equated with masculinity, progress and the domination of man over nature.

Kaveri’s gaze took in every inch of her surroundings. The main hall of the Century Club glowed in the yellow light of the electric lamps, the sturdy furnishings of teak and rosewood offset by the delicate garlands of white jasmine, red roses and orange marigold draped around the pillars like serpents. The lamps were particularly impressive, mounted on tall iron pillars enhanced by ornate cornices and curls.

Outside, the gentle scritch-scritch of a broomstick announced the presence of a gardener, sweeping up the fallen leaves from the grassy lawn where dinner would later be laid out. A servant appeared silently on their left-hand side, bowing deferentially as he helped Ramu out of his coat. Ramu tipped the cart driver, telling him to have a good supper and to pick them up in a few hours. The carriage driver nodded cheerfully; his family lived nearby, and were expecting him home for dinner. 

Aware that the gesture made her seem more like a bashful child than a distinguished wife, Kaveri could not help but cling to Ramu’s side as they walked onwards into the club. 

Animal heads were mounted like trophies along the wall, repulsing and intimidating her. A series of glassy-eyed deer with impressive antlers gazed mournfully down at them, and two large stuffed bison heads drooped their once-lethal horns towards the couple, defeated. Kaveri tried her best to walk around the snarling bearskin that adorned the floor, and as she caught sight of the two life-sized tiger skins mounted on parallel walls, Ramu felt her shudder. 

In the fourth book of the series, Into the Leopard's Den - to be released in July 2025 - Kaveri goes to Coorg to investigate a murder, that then turns into two, and then three. I had a lot of fun visiting Coorg, reading about the history of coffee plantations and British settlers in the misty hills of Coorg, and working this into the setting. Here's an excerpt from the book, describing the landscape of Coorg, it's wealth intertwined with poverty and built on exploitation - 

The powerful car ate up the miles as the plains fell away from view. They climbed steadily. The open, grassy meadows and barren granite hills gave way to misty hills. Rolling down the glass, she stuck her head out of the window, greedily inhaling large gulps of the crisp, cool air. From this height, she could see thick forests draping the slopes like an olive green carpet, punctuated by bright green fingers of coffee on the gentler slopes. Embedded in the valley, small squares of emerald green paddy fields peeked out, like exquisite applique work on a silk sari. 

There was much wealth in the mountains of Coorg. And poverty. The ups and downs of the hill country’s fortunes had left their mark on the landscape. Along the edge of the coffee plantations, marked by the silvery-gray shade of the silver oak trees, she could see huts and hovels jutting out, black smoke rising from their chimneys. Their crooked walls and balding thatched roofs stood out like blotches against the vivid green landscape and the red-tiled bungalows. These would be where the workers lived. Ramu had described them to her in his letters. She wondered if she might find out more about Kupamma in these huts. 

And here's another excerpt, later in the book - some details on high tech equipment, while hinting at the bad blood between the British coffee planters and their Indian labour force, and dangers to come.

Soon, they arrived at the yard, where small piles of coffee berries had been piled up into neat mounds, waiting to be pulped. Ramappa ushered Kaveri to a chair in the shade of a majestic mahogany. But Kaveri went straight to the pulping machine, watching as the men loaded the berries into the drum. ‘Can I?’ she asked with excitement, taking hold of the large handle. She rotated the drum using the handle, breaking the skin on the cherries, letting the green seeds fall out. 

‘At school, I read about this bean separator in my physics textbook,’ she told Ramappa. ‘The centrifugal force created by the rotating drum spins the lighter pulp out into this channel above, leaving the heavier beans at the bottom.’ ‘I don’t know about any of that,’ Ramappa grunted. ‘But the machine gets things done very fast. Because of this dratted leopard, our pickers come late to work, and leave early in the evening, while the sun is still high in the sky. There are berries rotting on the bushes. Thanks to this machine, we can process them more quickly after picking. But we still need more people to harvest them.’ 

‘Lakamma picked a bad time to go for a temple tour?’ Kaveri asked sympathetically. 

‘The worst time for it. If madam was here, she would have never let things get so bad. She would have convinced the workers to return and exposed the villain spreading these rumours. Unless she is home soon, we will be left with very little to show for all our efforts this year.’ 

‘Do you believe in the ghost cat?’ she asked carefully. ‘I don’t believe in ghosts. Boyd must be behind it. Just like Fowler, he will suck the landscape dry in the name of profit.’ 

He swore fluently in Kannada, spitting a stream of blood red liquid into the bushes on the side of the yard. ‘I don’t know why Ponnappa doesn’t realise it. Men like Boyd can’t be allowed to roam free, causing havoc as they like. They should be chopped into pieces and fed to this leopard.’