Winning Awards . . . and Not*

 

I’ve won a few awards. And here is what they’ve done for my book sales.

 

Nada.

 

Yes, winning awards is wonderful. I won two awards—back-to-back—at the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference in 2020, and I cried buckets, hugged lots, and posed for photos with make-up smeared all over my face. Those awards are now a prized part of my brag wall. So what did they do for my sales figures and ability to sell books to editors?

 

Nada.

 

Am I thrilled I’ve won? Of course, I am. I highly recommend contests of all ilk to writers. You can get astonishing sound feedback and winning does raise your profile in the industry.

 

But let’s manage the expectations. 

 

First, more books deserve awards than get them. That’s just a fact of life. Don’t despair or fall into the trap of thinking you’re not good enough if you did not get so much as a mention from a contest. One of my favorite authors wrote more than sixty books—and made a living as an author—before winning a major award. Another had thirty under her belt before any recognition came her way via an awards committee. You are not writing for an award. Follow your heart on this.

 

Second, remember that awards are not life changing. Nor will they usually boost your sales. Only a few national awards do that and winning those is akin to capturing lightning in a bottle. After the hoopla of a win dies down, get your rear back in that chair and keep typing. And marketing.

 

Finally, there are benefits to winning, but be prepared to work hard to manifest those outcomes. There are marketing angles you can pursue if you win…working with your publisher on a press release, adding notices to your website and social media pages. If you have a relationship with a local bookstore, let the manager know you’ve picked up an award. Those are the things that may eventually boost your sales—that and continuing to produce great books.

 

But the best advice I can give to winners is to be gracious. Don’t overdo the humility (that’s a little grating) but give simple and honest thanks and appreciation to those who congratulate you. You worked hard to get there…don’t pass it off as if this wasn’t an important part of your journey. It is, and there’s no reason you shouldn’t acknowledge it.

 

Don’t dwell on it, however. You’ve won. Excellent. Celebrate! Then move on to your next project. You still have work to do!

 

And if you were nominated but didn’t win…also make use of this recognition. Believe me, no one sees you as a “loser.” Instead, you wrote a fabulous book that caught readers’ attention with the quality of the story and the craft. The same with the books that received second or third place. Embrace the acclaim, spread it around a little, then move on.

 

But what if you didn’t even get a blink from an award committee? Again, be gracious. Send kind congratulations and celebrate with your fellow authors. These are your friends. They deserve your support and happiness for them. After all…as Jesse Owens once said, “Awards become corroded, friends gather no dust.”

 

Remember: awards lift all of us up in a way, reminding readers that we’re still here and still writing. And readers will watch to see how you react to your peers’ success. They care. 

 

The bottom line is that, as nice as they are, awards do not tell you who you are. Or who you aren’t. That message only comes from One Source…and it’s not an awards committee.

~~~

 

*Adapted from my book, Tracking Changes: One Editor's Advice to Inspirational Fiction Authors.

Goals and Intentions

So I didn't do very well on my reading goals, as posted on Goodreads. Because I had read so many books in 2020 and the first part of 2021, I set out with this lofty idea that I could read at least 50 books in 2021.

At least. 

After all, I'd read almost 70 in 2020. Fifty should be a breeze. 

But my intentions took a left turn to some unexpected goals. 

I signed a four-book contract. Then another for a novella. Then another for a fifth novel. And a sixth. 

It was something of a banner year for my writing career. In terms of the actual writing, I finished books 1 & 2, the novella, and book 5. I wrote part of book 3. All told, I've written about 350,000 words in 2021. Books 1, 2, and 5 were edited by the publishers and revised by me. I also worked as an editor for ISM as well as on several freelance projects. 

I've been a little busy. 

I also detoured from reading fiction into nonfiction, which slowed me down a lot. A lot of that reading was historical research, since books 1-4, the novella, and book 6 are historical romances for a secular publisher. (The novella is actually in the anthology on the right in the above screenshot.) New field, but one I love. But there was a lot of research and background to be covered.

These will be published under a new name, so as not to create confusion for my readers. As Ramona Richards, I will still write Christian suspense, and that's what book 5 is. I signed with Kregel for a sequel to Burying Daisy Doe. The Kregel team is remarkable, and I love working with them.  I'm thrilled with the story, and I am on tenterhooks until Circle of Vengeance releases in the fall.

So that was a bit of 2021. As for 2022, I obviously have lots of deadlines, but I also plan to read. And read. And read some more. Once again, I've posted my intention to read at least 50 books this year. 

I think setting lofty goals and intentions is a good thing. For me, it's like having a big dream. And, as they say, dream big, then make a plan to get there, and work like crazy to make it happen. 

Here's hoping ALL OUR DREAMS find a home in 2022.

No One Single Path

 

No matter what your chosen goal in life, you'll discover many paths lead in that direction.

Anyone who says otherwise is either lying or selling something. Probably both.

The path to success is unique to each individual because we are all unique--just as God created us to be. Yes, of course, there are common qualities that can help each of us toward our goals:

• Perseverance
• Commitment to growth and learning
• Seeking wisdom from mentors
• Struggles

 That last one often gives people pause because we too often buy into the myth that if we're doing everything "right," then our journeys should be relatively smooth. Yeah, there's a reason I call that a myth. 

Trials and tribulations can be of our own doing--but they can also come out of the blue. A car accident. An unexpected death. A long-expected child arrives disabled or with serious health problems. Or something as simple as exhaustion can lead to mistakes or mind-numbing disconnection.

We tend to push ourselves hard, more so than we realize. If we have negative voices in our lives that have become imprinted in our brains--"You're lazy; you'll never amount to anything; why are you even trying; get a real job and stop dreaming"--we can be driven to the point of collapse by trying to prove them wrong. 

When I talk to writers at conferences, I often remind them that I am ONE VOICE. Just like every other editor or mentor. I am not omnipotent, especially when it comes to their life path. My usual advice is for them to listen to many, then decide what works for them and pursue that with all the perseverance they can muster. 

Like any other profession, it usually takes YEARS to become a published author with any name recognition. Anything else is lightning in a bottle--to be admired and appreciated but not imitated. Think about it: how long does it take to be a successful lawyer or doctor? Engineer? Years of schooling (think conferences, classes, and mentors), plus apprenticeships (internships) and guidance from those who came before. 

For some reason, people think writing is easy...everyone can write a book. But writing is HARD WORK. And writing well takes time and lots of hours of practice--and failure.

I've written a few books. About 13 of those have been published, plus one novella. I have four more novels and another novella under contract. I've contributed to more than 20 others. I've written devotions for websites and magazines. I've had magazine articles and short stories published.   

But one of those novels took a DECADE to find a publisher. I also have 6 complete and unpublished novels and more than 350 rejections in my files. I still hear "No!" from my agent. 

Sometimes the writing is easy; in May 2020 I wrote a 100,00o-word novel in just over a month--which still hasn't sold. But these last three months, I have struggled to complete a novel that SHOULD have been easy to write. Only it wasn't. I missed my first deadline, then my extended one. My editor has been a gem, even as she struggled with her own issues, encouraging me, guiding me, and pushing me. I could not have made it through without her. 

It's done, but I'm exhausted, mentally and creatively. Prone to tears at the drop of a hat, mostly from relief these days. 

Seriously, anyone who thinks writing and editing a book is easy has never done it. Admittedly, sometimes the endeavor goes well. Most of the time...no. 

Why do I do it? Because I can't NOT write. I've tried to quit a couple of times, but I get itchy and grouchy, and even my friends send me back to the computer. 

So in whatever endeavor you are involved, remember that struggling isn't failure. It's just a stepping stone to the next success.

 

It's a Long and Bumpy Ride

The words came into my head as clearly as if they had been spoken aloud.

“Daughter, why are you fighting Me on this?”

I was about to step out into the garage to weigh (don’t ask, there’s no reason why the scale is in the garage … it just never made it inside after the move), and I almost stumbled. It was a wake-up call.

Now if I could just figure out what it means.

I should probably mention that I’ve been struggling to decide whether to keep writing.

January through May of this year were great months for me, in terms of writing. The pandemic affected me not at all. In January I had already transitioned to working from home, part time. I was balancing the cut in funds, had picked up a great freelance job, and was writing like crazy. I joined a gym and was exercising; I lost weight. Even after the shutdown, I tried to keep that going here at the house.

Inspired by an idea that had been in the works for almost a year, I wrote an entire book in May, including having it edited by a pro. It would be a change for me, more sensual and no faith element, but I had a pseudonym picked and a marketing plan. I could do this, if it actually sold. I worked out the idea for a Christian suspense series, was working on some short stories for the mainstream market, and my editor on Murder in the Family asked for a sequel.

Then the bottom fell out.

The day job became overwhelming. Projects were getting behind and piling up. Our copyeditor quit, and I took on much of her role as well as mine.

I tried, but I couldn’t write. No words came. I froze. I prayed. I tried to listen. Nada. Silence settled in all around and in me. And that’s when the depression hit.

I recognized it, of course. Not immediately. They tend to be sneaky little suckers. But the first unexpected crying spell was a light bulb moment.

I’ve had bad years before. 2016 was one of the worst. I’d lost my mom in November 2014, then my daughter Rachel in February 2016. The depression that followed her death left me devastated. I couldn’t work or write; I did good to get out of bed. I played more than ten thousand games of solitaire (seriously). I went through all of my savings, including the money from my mother’s estate.

So I’m familiar with bad. And frozen. But this felt like an epic split between desire (wanting to expand my writing) and a familiar confinement (Christian fiction). Between wanting to finally let my voice grow into its natural setting … and the “shoulds” of the world I’ve made my career in. I’m 63—I’m tired of doing only the “shoulds!” I don’t want to get to the end of my life and be left with only the “what ifs.”

It felt a little like I was throwing a two-year-old’s temper tantrum.

It’s no wonder I dropped into a depression. One I’m still fighting.

Then the publisher for Burying Daisy Doe sent word that they’d hired a publicist who I’ve known almost my entire career. She’s brilliant and a friend. And I cried like I’d been shot. It was a light at the end of the tunnel. Or at least a glimmer of daylight.

I still can’t write. I’m trying. I’m working on outlines and synopses instead. Short pieces to keep my brain going. But I still can’t write fiction; still struggling to focus on a novel. And I still want to quit. Even knowing what happens to me when I don’t write. (You think this depression is bad …)

Then came the message out of the blue, when I wasn’t even paying attention. And I’m trying to focus on those words: “Daughter, why are you fighting Me on this?”

Don’t have a clue what they mean, except that He’s still in control. So I’m trying to cling to the trust. 

It is one amazing and bumpy ride. And it ain’t over yet.

Always a thrill...

I've been doing this for forty years.

And there's not a single stage of the process of working on my own book that doesn't thrill me. Some of the stages are tiring and tedious, but I never fail to get a jolt when I see an email from my publisher with an attachment.

We are starting to proofing stage of Burying Daisy Doe (Kregel, November 17, 2020), so I got to see the layout for the first time.

My words in print.

I seriously don't want to do anything else except work with words, make them sing--and help others make them sing as well.

I love the journey.

We Have Winners!

Below are the winners from the author interviews I've posted on the blog over the past few months. 

I have contact info for Kay, Maryann, and Susan. Pam and Cathy, can you reach out to me via PM, please, and I'll get you in touch with your authors.

Congratulations! I hope you enjoy the books.
--------------
Barbara Cameron, Summer's Promise 
Kay Garrett

Kelly Irvin, Mountains of Grace 
Maryann
 

Kelly Irvin, Over the Line 

Susan Campbell

Danica Favorite, The Cowboy's Faith
Pam Hamblin

Leigh Ann Thomas, Smack-Dab in the Midlife Zone 
Cathy Baker

Why I Don't Halloween

 I always loved Halloween. I started trick-or-treating with my family when I was six (I was a ghost under a pillow case). 

My first “real” mask was Cleopatra, which I wore with black, and it was hot and nasty and tremendous fun. I kept up the tradition until I was 14. 

The shot of me on the fireplace is my last outfit. Yes, that’s a tribble hanging around my neck. My cat (a real one) went with me, and people would call Grandma outta the den to come look at the black kitty. 

 

This affection for dressing up continued in college; my roommate and I donned costumes for every Halloween, and we both branched out into theater and other modes of showing off. Obviously, the cat theme continued, as did the fondness for Halloween. The goth picture is from a cemetery tour I went on.

 

Rachel, too, loved Halloween and dressing up. Phyllis was a huge Halloween fan, and dressed Rachel in the most outstanding costumes. Here is Rachel as  Dorothy and her and her wheelchair as Sandy in Grease.

We decorated her chair, and the teachers at her school couldn’t wait to see what she’d look like when she got off the bus. In the evening, Phyllis took her trick-or-treating around the neighborhood, and I handed candy out to the kids. And a good time was had by all.

Then Rachel was gone. 

The first year, I lived where there weren’t many children, so it was a silent night. The next year, I was in an apartment in Birmingham—lots of kids—and I stocked up on candy. 

But with every knock on the door, it became harder and harder to celebrate. I didn’t think it would be, but the memories, though cherished and precious, changed it.

And that’s OK. Things do change. Most of life does.

My new Halloween tradition is to go to the movies. And I’m kinda enjoying that.

But don’t be surprised if you see me in costume some time, maybe even on the stage.

Some things DON’T change.

Happy Halloween, y’all.