First a writing update! I’m in the middle of editing The Salt Oracle, which is due with my editor at the end of June. Edits are … hmm. They’re going at a good speed and I’m definitely ironing out a few creases, but I’ll be honest - I’ve done so much editing across three books over the past 7 months that I feel like my editing brain is a little fried. Even having given myself April to rest and play with Novella2, I’m still not convinced I’m doing my best, most thorough work editing this thing. HOWEVER, I’ve got time, and I trust my editor to see the potential even if it’s still a little hokey, so I’m trying to not stress about that and just get the job done as best I can for now.
I confess the prospect of getting to (gasp) draft? something? new? in July is the carrot keeping me going!
NOW THEN. Today’s ramblings are about book awards. I have Many Thoughts about these shiny, lovely things, and being as I have recieved another shortlisting this week, I figured now is a good time to talk. (Fair warning: Today is a hospital appointment day so this might be on the scatty side)
Mother Sea is a finalist for the Society of Authors ADCI Literary Award (Authors with Disabilities & Chronic Illnesses). This is this book’s third award listing, after being finalist for the Saltire Best Novel Award and longlisted for a British Science Fiction Award. Lovely huh? Yes, very much so.
The thing is though, I think awards involve a degree of tightrope walking for authors, and that’s as important to remember when you are listed/win, as when you are passed over entirely. Here’s what I mean:
On the one hand -
This industry is full of rejection. FULL of it. There is rejection bedded into every single step of the process from critique to querying to sub to book reviews, bestseller lists, book boxes, movie rights … and awards. So given that, it is absolutely imperative we celebrate any wins which come our way, right? Positive beta feedback? Win. Sign with an agent? Win. Get into a bookbox? Omg win. Shortlisted for a prize? Bring on the cake.
I have talked about the constantly moving goalposts of publishing before - how it’s too easy to look at the things you aspire to, and forget to be proud of the successes you’ve accrued. So any form of award nod is deserving of a moment of pure, uncomplicated joy. It is concrete recognition in a quicksand industry that your book resonated with readers.
Not only did it resonate with readers, it resonated strongly enough for them to vote for it. Which is such an honour, isn’t it? Honestly as an author my main goal in being published is to connect with strangers, to share something with them. Awards listings are proof absolutely positive that I’ve succeeded in this goal.
ALSO, let’s not forget. Awards give us a wee visibility boost, maybe (for the big awards) a noticeable sales lift, and some shiny credentials to append to our bio. All of which help further our careers to varying degrees.
Good stuff.
On the other hand -
Okay where to start?
Well it boils down to this: Awards are not fair. They aren’t. They are not a meritocracy or a badge of relative quality or worthiness. They are. not. fair.
Here’s why. There is no way (that I can think of) to run an award absent of all bias. Awards are run in a wide variety of ways, from entirely open public votes (like Goodreads, Locus), to membership votes (Hugos, BSFAs), a mix of membership vote then jury (BFAs), a mix of first readers then jury (Theakston Crime), or all jury (the SoA awards and most of the well known industry awards).
Each of these approaches holds inherent bias. Open public votes are going to favour the most visible books, which means the books that have either the famous author or the big marketing budget. Membership votes also have this popularity contest element, but they also limit the voting pool to those who have the logistical and financial freedom to attend conventions or join organisations. Thus the Hugos tend to be extremely USA centric, because that’s where Worldcon normally is and that’s who the majority of attendees are.
First reader selections depend wholly on the size and diversity of that reader pool, and as readers generally have to apply for the (voluntary) job, they tend to lean towards a) people ‘in’ the group already, and b) people with the free time to commit. Jury panels are far more prone to unconscious bias than an open vote simply because the small number of people in the room increases the sway of any one person’s bias (or just taste), and increases the risk of that room lacking diversity.
Most awards are only open to traditionally published books, most awards also limit the number of entries per publisher, and the larger awards carry a hefty fee. These latter two points mean that publishers may be filtering their eligible books to select the ones they think are the best fit for that award, or that they’ve invested the most in, perhaps. This produces a closed feedback loop of the kinds of books (and authors) being put forward, and thus the kinds winning.
Every now and again someone points out that a certain shortlist is extremely white, or male, or shows the same old faces over and over again. Most recent of these was the Theakston’s Crime Awards, but they won’t be the last. Award organisers are (I hope) generally keen to make their awards as fair and relevant and exciting as possible, and apply different methods to try to ensure that. Which is wonderful. But these occasional flurries of attention only underline the fundamental fact that the bias is built into the system.
SO does this mean I hate awards and they’re all trash? No, of course not. Just because there are biases in the system doesn’t mean that the people who voted for your book were somehow lying about loving it. An award nod is still exactly as validating as I said above.
What it isn’t however, is a yardstick of your book’s worth compared to anyone else. Sometimes godawful books win awards simply because that book was absolutely everywhere so folk voted for it because it was the only one on the longlist they recognised. Sometimes (often) absolutely amazing books get no award nods at all, because the right people in the right circles hadn’t encountered it, or because one small group of people happened not to connect with it that much.
Behold the tightrope -
When you don’t get listed for an award (this will most definitely happen), or don’t win one you were listed for, you need to remember that last paragraph above. It’s not a measure of your book, because awards are chaotic and biased and not fair. So don’t judge yourself by the vagiaries of a very subjective system.
When you do get listed for an award, or even win one. You need to celebrate the win, but you still need to remember that paragraph above. Partly so you don’t become an arse, but partly to buffer yourself against the next rejection waiting in the wings.
It’s a tricky balancing act, holding simultaneously both the pride and the perspective in your head. But I honestly think it’s the only healthy way to ride the rollercoaster of awards long term. Case in point: For my first three books, I have won 3 awards and been listed for 8 others. I have no idea how many awards my books were entered for, but it was very definitely more than 11. For every ‘Embargoed News’ exciting email, there’s also a silence.
As you may have noticed by now, I am all about resilience and the long game in publishing. I am so proud, so damn proud, of the awards nods my books have recieved. The thought that my words have resonated with readers powerfully enough to warrant that kind of support is incredible. And for the awards celebrating marginalised communities I am part of, that honour is even higher. But there are also awards I was quietly hoping to get listed for and didn’t (yet, maybe). They are fickle, fickle things, and worth holding at arms length lest they make us bleed.
So what’s my point? I have run out of chocolate and therefore vim. But maybe, beloveds, next time you see a longlisting announced without your gorgeous book on it (how dare), my rambling here will be of some comfort. And next time you get that secret, shiny email (yay), you will immediately go and source quality cake, but also remember perhaps, just perhaps, not to pin your sense of worth on this beautiful, fleeting thing.
Next time, I … don’t really know? Workshops? Or maybe a summer reading list, best books of the year so far kind of check in. We’ll see what the chocolate gods inspire (or what you suggest - I am open to requests, kind of).
With thanks to anyone who has ever supported my books by voting, nominating, or recommending them. You are the best. The SoA awards ceremony is on the 20th June. I will not be attending, partly because of health limitations, partly because of wider political issues within the management committe of the SoA. I will however be cheering the wonderful ADCI prize on, whoever wins, because that prize and the community behind it are precious to me.