Winning Formula by Poppy Gee

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

I’m wary about entering book contests. In Australia you are required to pay a hefty fee, plus send three copies of your book, and pay for postage. And then, as we all know, your chances of winning are low.

Ten years ago, I was a judge on a book award: the prestigious Barbara Jefferis Award, an Australian award for a book that depicts strong female characters. Reading those books was fun. Seventy-odd books of literary and historical fiction arrived on my doorstep in a huge cardboard box. I loved reading them, I read non-stop for weeks. The organisers paid me a small fee and flew me to Sydney for a day-long meeting to decide on the winner. I feel bad for saying this, but I didn’t particularly enjoy the judging process. I love writing reviews on books I enjoy, but trying to formulate a judges' statement based on the opinions of myself and the other two judges felt awful. The statement that we presented was devoid of passion – it was like an academic defence of the intellectual achievements of each book. 

This experience affirmed my commitment to being part of the down-to-earth, real and robust crime writing sphere, rather than turning me off literary awards in general. The award I would love to be a judge on (or win!) is the Ned Kelly Award for Crime Fiction, named after the famous Australian bushranger (a nineteenth century highwayman). I don’t think winning would help sell books as most readers don’t think too much about awards unless it’s a Pulitzer or a Booker, but to win a Ned Kelly for a crime writer would be an honour. The award is run by the Australian Crime Writers Association, and, as other writers have noted, being recognised by your writer peers is deeply satisfying.

In my experience, the most worthwhile contests to enter are ones for unpublished manuscripts. There used to be one in Australia run by a big publishing house, the Allen and Unwin/Vogel Award. The winner won $20,000 and a publishing deal. I entered it five times. I never won, but I completed five manuscripts. The beauty of an unpublished manuscript competition is the deadline it gives you. It makes you finish your story and in doing so, you improve your craft. Competitions like this are a great way to get noticed – I’ve got lots of friends who got their start, not by winning, but by being shortlisted in unpublished manuscript contests.

I have friends that love entering micro fiction, or flash fiction competitions. I can see the attraction of this. It might take you a few hours to write, maybe a day or a week to ponder, the fee is minimal, and it’s a burst of pure delight if you win. These writer friends share their micro fiction with each other, they cheer each other on, talk excitedly about it when we catch up for coffee. It looks like fun. 

The winning formula for writerly satisfaction is not prizes and accolades. Rather, satisfaction can come by reminding ourselves why we started writing in the first place, which for many of us is writing for the simple and pure joy of it.