Some Swear At Them
In the last year, there were more than 75 contests for unpublished writers listed in the Romance Writer's Report, a monthly magazine published by Romance Writers of America for its members—and every year the numbers rise.
There are synopsis contests, first page contests, hook contests, first chapter contests, contests to test love scenes, conflict scenes and endings. Good grief! How is a fledgling writer to decide what contest is right for her—or whether entering any contest will be worth the time and money spent? These are questions you may wish to answer prior to sending your baby into the contest world for public scrutiny and critique, because the experience could make you want to quit writing altogether. The experience could also be the best thing you've ever done in your writing career.
Contests are ego busters. The competition is fierce. There are hundreds of excellent writers out there, and they're all clamoring for a place at the top. Low contest scores and negative critiques can blow holes the size of Argentina in your self-esteem. If finding out your book isn't the brilliant piece of prose you thought it was makes you want to take up tatting instead of writing, contests may not be for you. If you're the sensitive type and can't get beyond emotions to view this as a learning experience, you may want to think twice before taking the plunge.
Contests are also ego boosters. When you win, place or final, you know your writing can compete with the best. High or improved contest scores and positive critiques can give you that lift you need, tell you you're making progress, and carry you through the dark days of rejections. Contests can provide opportunities for growth in a variety of ways that are difficult to get elsewhere during the unpublished years. The most important thing is to understand what contests can or can't do for you before you make a decision to spend the time and money.
I speak from experience. In the past three years I've entered more contests than I care to admit. I blithely entered my first contest with the lofty hopes of a beginner and the expectation that someone I didn't know would confirm what my husband had been telling me—that my writing rivaled Nora Roberts's, my story was brilliant, cutting edge material sure to be bought by an editor and optioned by Steven Spielberg to become his next blockbuster movie. Visions of meeting Tom Cruise or Adrian Paul, one of whom would undoubtedly play my story's hero, danced in my head.
Imagine my shock when I received scores that didn't even register in the average zone, and the three returned copies of my entry looked as if they'd been through a blood bath. I simply sat and stared at the sad commentary on my writing skills, and the longer I sat, the worse I felt. Self-doubt grabbed me by the throat. I had no talent, no style, no voice. My writing was pond scum. No, it was worse than that—my writing was the brown, goopy muck at the bottom of the pond, and I couldn't tell a story that would interest a C flick movie producer.
I immediately pitched the score sheets and those ghastly scribbled pages into the circular file and sunk into a deep, black funk. How could I write anything after that? How could I stay in point of view when I didn't even know what point of view was? Why does anyone enter these contests, I wondered? What good are they?
After approximately four days, my sweet, supportive husband scowled, handed me a bag of hard, leftover Halloween Tootsie Rolls, (the only chocolate in the house) and said, "Get over it! They don't even know you, so don't take it personally."
A little chocolate brought me around. Wow, I thought. What a concept! You mean what they said might be useful information? Hmph. I wasn't sure about this, but since my husband is always right, (I know this because he says so) I screwed up enough courage to take another peek at the contest results.
Surprise—the comments weren't "all" bad. And in this chocolate-induced, more reasonable state of mind, I realized there might be a hair's truth in them. I took a deeper look and cringed. My plot did have holes in it, my conflict was weak, the characters weren't distinctive. It was then that I knew I had a lot to learn. My journalism degree and non-fiction publishing credits didn't mean diddly when it came to writing romance. At that point, there was only one choice I could make. Learn the craft of writing romance novels.
So, I hunkered down and continued to write my stories while studying everything I could along the way. I'm still learning and loving every minute.
For me, an important part of the learning process involved continuing to enter contests-though it took me a while after that first shattering experience, but I did—and it's paid off. I went on to final, place, and win numerous contests, including finaling in the Golden Heart four times with different books. As a result, I acquired a reputable agent and renewed hope that the big sale was right around the corner. No question about it, contests have played a big role in my writing career so far, and I'd like to share a little of what I've learned about contests.
Define your contest goals. Do you want an editor or agent read? An anonymous, unbiased critique? Scores by which to gauge your writing expertise, your growth, and your manuscript's general acceptance by readers? Or maybe you'd like some credits to use in a query letter to editors and agents, or the prize money, or that all too necessary validation that keeps you writing when rejections start piling up?
For me, it was a "depends" kind of decision. If I started a new book and just wanted to see how it flies, I picked a first chapter contest. If I wanted to see if the whole story stands up, I picked a synopsis contest or first chapter with synopsis contest. If I was looking for a read by an editor, I picked a contest that required a partial (up to fifty-five pages and a synopsis) and in which an editor from the publishing house/line I wanted to target, is the final judge. After all, if the editor liked the partial, she may request to see more, allowing me to bypass the query letter stage. For name recognition, I picked the larger more prestigious contests.
In addition to the above, my personal preference was to pick contests that give score sheets and those in which the judges are encouraged to write their comments directly on the entries (this does not include the Golden Heart). I didn't select contests that required me to adjust my manuscript, write a set-up or do anything I didn't already have in the works, it takes too much time away from writing.
Decide what contest benefit you'd like to gain and go for it.
Continued...
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Article originally printed in the Phoenix Desert Rose Newsletter, 1998.
Copyright © 1998-2000, Linda Style.
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