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On the last day of my Advance Narrative Writing Class at UIUC back in 2016, our instructor John Rubins opened the discussion up to final questions. It was an opportunity to ask anything we wanted about writing for a living. Many students inquired about getting published of course, and about pay rates for certain pieces. Some asked about the editorial process and opportunities to work as agents or editors. Then, just as class ended, a student asked about contests. Should we enter them?
Rubins' response was cryptic. "Beware of the contests", he said.
At the time, I thought he was warning us about those less than honest competitions where you pay a very high entrance fee in exchange for guaranteed acceptance, sort of a Who's Who in Writing but without the leather hardcover. But now, after entering several poetry and a few short story competitions, I believe I know what it was he wanted us to avoid, the reliance on contests to determine your value as a writer.
It's easy to do as contests winning can provide both a soothing balm to the eager and often needy emerging writer, and a welcome boost to your resume and career, but they can also wound, leaving a decent amount of scar tissue if one enters them without adequate protection.
By "protection" I mean a thick skin, a well honed ability to critique ones own work, the fortitude to reach out to other writers for the elusive constructive criticism, and the strength to welcome a rejection as yet another opportunity for improvement.
Contests, like aspirin, are best consumed on a limited basis, else you risk a GI bleed.
Although I have entered several contests over the last three years, I am select about where I send out both my work and my limited cash. Each month, when I receive my issue of Poets and Writers, I go first to the section of upcoming competitions and circle those that match well with my work. Then I narrow it down by deadline date and submission fee. I like to choose those whose deadlines are far off, allowing me time to revise and sharpen up any loose screws. From those I'll select the one with a moderate admission fee. Twenty dollars or less is my usual budget.
Then, I submit it and forget it.
Unless I don't. Last summer I submitted my first poetry chapbook to a contest in Ireland. I was so excited to have enough finished work to enter that I got carried away found myself checking the organizations web site daily for results. I also blame the prize itself for this obsessive internet stalking as the chapbook winner not only received cash, several copies of their book and publication by a notable press, but a three day stay in Cork (the home of Blarney Castle) as well !
You see, I fell into that jagged tooth trap so many do: I was focusing on the PRIZE rather than the work itself. The time spent checking for my name on the organizations website was time taken away from the other writing I needed, wanted, to do. And sure enough, I didn't win. No short list mention, no long list nod, no honorable mention. Nothing. Nada.
Funny thing though, I wasn't disappointed as much as I was relieved. With no need to check on contest results anymore, I had time to finish the other eighteen poems I started but wasn't disciplined enough to finish. Being granted official loser status, freed me to do what writers are supposed to be doing.
Writing.
Then, I submit it and forget it.
Unless I don't. Last summer I submitted my first poetry chapbook to a contest in Ireland. I was so excited to have enough finished work to enter that I got carried away found myself checking the organizations web site daily for results. I also blame the prize itself for this obsessive internet stalking as the chapbook winner not only received cash, several copies of their book and publication by a notable press, but a three day stay in Cork (the home of Blarney Castle) as well !
You see, I fell into that jagged tooth trap so many do: I was focusing on the PRIZE rather than the work itself. The time spent checking for my name on the organizations website was time taken away from the other writing I needed, wanted, to do. And sure enough, I didn't win. No short list mention, no long list nod, no honorable mention. Nothing. Nada.
Funny thing though, I wasn't disappointed as much as I was relieved. With no need to check on contest results anymore, I had time to finish the other eighteen poems I started but wasn't disciplined enough to finish. Being granted official loser status, freed me to do what writers are supposed to be doing.
Writing.
Wise words, Donna. The very notion that art can be evaluated in competitions is an anathema. Like comparing apples and oranges. (Both are fruits, but there the comparison ends and subjective preference is everything.) DD is a classical pianist and often enters International competitions, (and had done phenomenally well) because she actually likes the process. It makes her practice and prepare with greater focus, and she has always made friends and connections there, in addition to prize money.
ReplyDeleteBut the key is not to internalize contests and their results as a decisive evaluation of your work.
I have yet to enter a single one, unless you count submissions to agents and editors. They are competitions of sorts, (like most worldly pursuits) but you don't have to see how the sausage is made.
Yes, the process of entering competitions should be valued as much-no, more- than the results. I struggle with economy of words in my work and when I know others will read a poem or short story of mine, I work hard to pare it down, make the words count.
DeleteThis is an excellent take. I think trying to judge ourselves based on the reactions of others is a pitfall in so many areas. Contests really set us up for that, but the arts and appreciation of them is so subjective. Doesn't seem fair, but that's they way it is. Good advice Donna.
ReplyDeleteAh, Donna, you are wise!
ReplyDelete