Everyone loves a prize. I know I do! And the vast majority of people who run the hundreds of literary award competitions in the U.S. each year know this too. Authors are bursting with excitement to get the word out about their new book, and are drawn to these contests like teenage girls to a Taylor Swift concert.
Before I go on, note that there are certainly legitimate and influential literary competitions out there like the Pulitzer Prize, the Nobel Prize in Literature, the National Book Award, and the Booker Prize, to name few, ones that can obviously change the course of one’s writing career. I’m not talking about those.
While I’m not saying all the other pay-for-play literary contests are scams—though some are—the vast majority are just simple money-making schemes. When you check out those submission guidelines, send in your manuscript, and pay the application fee, someone will win. Maybe they’ll even take home a check, but it won’t be much, because those submission dollars generally stay with those running the contest. Still, the folks in charge will point out that you can win pretty stickers to put on your books, or maybe a free or discounted public relations/marketing package, or a visit with a literary agent. Hell, they might even invite you to a fancy dinner.
But, in the end, your little prize means, well . . . little. I suppose you can call yourself an award-winning author, still whenever I see that particular claim, I’m always skeptical. It reminds me of the hand-painted sign I saw on a recent road trip: World’s Best Jerky! I couldn’t help but wonder how said jerky earned that appellation. Was there a world-wide jerky contest? Or did the jerky-maker’s mom say, “Gosh, honey, that’s the best jerky in the world!”? (Note here that there apparently is a Top Artisan Jerky Creations of the Year contest—Who knew?—still I doubt the guy who painted the sign in the backwoods of Washington state had been a participant.)
The point is “award-winning” implies something big. At least it does to me. So, though I’ve earned a couple of literary awards, I don’t generally mention myself as being an award-winning author. Somehow, though it’s technically true, it seems a bit pretentious.
I’m going to guess that I have now annoyed some authors who proudly display their medals, ribbons, and stickers. And I’m certainly not saying they shouldn’t. It’s just that, in the long run, almost all of those contest submission fees go to waste. Authors might be better served spending on book promotions, hiring a publicist, or sprucing up their website, for example.
Now I understand the draw. We authors are all pretty sure we’ve written the best book in the history of the world. (I have six traditionally published novels and I believed every one of them was worthy of a Pulitzer. Sigh…) So if you feel compelled to enter literary competitions, maybe give yourself a contest-entering budget. Some small amount that won’t affect other areas of book promotion where you’ll get a bigger bang for your buck. Though I know it’s tempting to zip out one’s credit card and pay those submission fees, think before you do.
And here is where I’ll admit that despite what I know I couldn’t avoid the pull of winning a competition. I sent my World War II historical fiction novel Your Forgotten Sons to the Independent Publishers Book Awards. It’s tantamount to the excitement of buying a lottery ticket and like the lottery the chances are exceedingly slim. Still, a girl can dream.
Because I understand that you might also need a thrill, find a link to hundreds of literary contests here. Just carefully read the submission guidelines, consider what you might actually win, and think hard about clicking that payment key.
Your Forgotten Sons
Inspired by a true story
Anne Montgomery
Bud Richardville is inducted into the Army as the United States prepares for the invasion of Europe in 1943. A chance comment has Bud assigned to a Graves Registration Company, where his unit is tasked with locating, identifying, and burying the dead. Bud ships out, leaving behind his new wife, Lorraine, a mysterious woman who has stolen his heart but whose secretive nature and shadowy past leave many unanswered questions. When Bud and his men hit the beach at Normandy, they are immediately thrust into the horrors of what working in a graves unit entails. Bud is beaten down by the gruesome demands of his job and losses in his personal life, but then he meets Eva, an optimistic soul who despite the war can see a positive future. Will Eva’s love be enough to save him?
Bookstores, libraries, and other booksellers can order copies directly from the Ingram Catalog.
Anne Montgomery’s novels can be found wherever books are sold.
Author Anne Montgomery 