I just got to p. 400 on the manuscript of my WIP, and on the exact deadline I'd given myself! Woohoo! That's almost exactly 89,000 words by MS Word's count, FWIW.
So, my next goal is to finish my first draft by August 15. A little while back, when I hit p. 300, I hoped to have the manuscript submission-ready by Labor Day, but I've since realized that's unrealistic. This book needs SERIOUS editing to be the best I'm capable of making it. I've got research to do, I've got to make some decisions about the backstory of my alternate world set-up and how much of it to reveal, I need to make sure my protagonist actually has a character arc (right now I'm afraid he's every bit as resolute and heroic when we meet him on p. 3 as he is on p. 400, and that won't do), I need to fix the story logic of my main subplot, etc. I'm thinking that's more like 3 months' work than 3 weeks', so my new tentative goal for being really and truly DONE is 12/31. But I may revise that up or back by a month or two as I go along.
Still. 400 pages. I'm most of the way there. And I got my feedback forms today for the Pacific NW Writers Association Literary Contest (I'm one of the finalists in science fiction/fantasy). It's almost 100% positive. One of my judges wants me to concentrate on adding more description and sensory detail, which is a fair point. That's one of my weaknesses. But s/he also praised my story hook, admired my pacing and imagery, and said s/he looked forward to reading the entire book. The second judge seemed to love everything, and I'm gloating over comments like "A real cause. A real protagonist, super antagonists, wonderful game of 'what if?'"
They liked me, they really liked me! ::bounce bounce bounce::
Showing posts with label contests. Show all posts
Showing posts with label contests. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Common Writing Mistake #527
I'm judging another RWA contest, and my entries reminded me of another issue I see over and over again in unpublished and sometimes published work: figuring out where to begin. There are two opposing errors:
1. Backstory Infodump: Opening pages serve merely to introduce the protagonist and her background, with no conflict or plot in sight till sometime around Chapter Two.
2. Sure She's in Peril, but Why Should I Care? In this case, the writer has absorbed the lesson about beginning where the changes in the protagonist's life start, but doesn't tell me enough about the character and how she got into this particular fix for me as a reader to much care if she ever gets out of it.
Finding the middle ground is a balancing act, and I'm by no means certain I always get it right. I know I tend toward the infodump, because how can you, the reader, possibly understand my story without ten pages of general historical background, plus a biography telling you everything that happened in my hero's life in the 36 years before he walks into the opening of Chapter One? At least I know it's wrong and that I should look for it when I edit, but somehow that doesn't prevent me from doing the infodump in the first place.
1. Backstory Infodump: Opening pages serve merely to introduce the protagonist and her background, with no conflict or plot in sight till sometime around Chapter Two.
2. Sure She's in Peril, but Why Should I Care? In this case, the writer has absorbed the lesson about beginning where the changes in the protagonist's life start, but doesn't tell me enough about the character and how she got into this particular fix for me as a reader to much care if she ever gets out of it.
Finding the middle ground is a balancing act, and I'm by no means certain I always get it right. I know I tend toward the infodump, because how can you, the reader, possibly understand my story without ten pages of general historical background, plus a biography telling you everything that happened in my hero's life in the 36 years before he walks into the opening of Chapter One? At least I know it's wrong and that I should look for it when I edit, but somehow that doesn't prevent me from doing the infodump in the first place.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
(Golden) Heartless
Well, it sounds like all the Golden Heart finalist calls have gone out, and my phone hasn't rung all day, so The Sergeant's Lady didn't make the cut. I'm fine with that, for the most part. It does sting a tiny bit, though--it's very much the "book of my heart," so even more than normal I want everyone who reads it to fall in love with it. And obviously, my judges didn't. Oh well. Now I'll just look forward to starting my new book (after we move next month) and going to the Historical Novel Society conference in June.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Golden Heart Time, Part Two
See previous post here. I'd meant to post them within minutes of each other, but got distracted with my daughter's desire for me to play baseball and help her color dinosaurs.
So, on to judging. With both the RITA and the GH, you're judged by a jury of your peers. You have to be published with an RWA-recognized publisher to judge the former, and you just have to be an RWA member to judge the latter, though I think members who have PRO status (unpublished, but have completed and submitted at least one manuscript) get priority. Maybe. I'm not really sure about that part.
What distinguishes the GH from local RWA chapters' contests is that there is no feedback. Instead of getting your manuscript back with a detailed scoresheet and comments and suggestions, you just get your numerical scores in a range from 1-9, along with whether you were in the first quartile, second quartile, or bottom 50% of all entrants in your category. The reason I've heard for the lack of feedback is fear of lawsuits--RWA doesn't want to get sued because one of its members doesn't know how to give tactful feedback. But it also makes sense given the larger scale of the GH. Those local contests average 20-30 entries per category AFAICT, while the GH allows 1200 entries across the 12 categories. It would be a lot of work for the small staff at the national office, and feedback isn't really the purpose of the GH. It's a potential career boost for writers on the verge of publication. I'd never advise entering the GH as your first contest--better to try a few local ones first, see how other writers react to your work, and if you're finaling or coming close to it, THEN shell out the bucks for the GH.
All that said, it still bothers me a bit that the most important contest in RWA's world has the least quality control. I judge a lot of local contests, but if I was a vindictive or incompetent judge, I wouldn't get to keep doing so for long. My mean spirit or ignorance would show in my comments, and contest coordinators wouldn't keep inviting me back. But with the GH, there's no way to know. I've heard stories that make me wonder, like a friend who got a 2.0 from one judge the same year her other entry finaled. To me, a 2.0 is the kind of score you'd give an entry that showed an utter lack of competence at grammar and craft. And I know that's not the case with this writer. For starters, I've read her work. Also, she's published now. Her first book comes out in May, and IIRC it's the one that got that ridiculously low score.
I've heard plenty of similar stories, so I think there are GH judges out there who have no business judging. (Incidentally, I'm not speaking from personal experience here. I'm obviously not thrilled* with how The Sergeant's Lady scored last year, given that it didn't, you know, final, but none of the scores were out of line with what a competent, qualified judge who just happened to have different criteria for what makes an ideal romance than I do might assign.**) And I'm not sure what the solution is. The best I can come up with is something I suggested to the board when they asked for feedback on the contests: I said that each judge should write a few sentences per entry justifying her scoring, not for the entrants, but for the national office to review. That way they could weed out obvious incompetence, and maybe judges would feel a certain constraint not to be petty or arbitrary. Or maybe there should be mandatory training, or only people who've judged X number of local contests should be eligible to judge the GH. But I'm not sure any of those ideas would work. Maybe there isn't a solution.
* "Not thrilled" is perhaps an understatement of my reaction when I first received my scores, which IIRC ranged from 5.0 to 7.8 and were mostly in the 6's, putting me in the bottom 50% of my category. After a couple of finals and several near-misses in local contests, that bottom 50% finish was quite a blow. But nearly a year later, I've gained some perspective. I'll never know what those scores really meant, but they don't undo or negate every bit of good feedback I've ever gotten on the manuscript.
** There's really nothing anyone can do about the fact there's an element of subjectivity in judging. For example, I try my best to be a fair judge, but I can't completely check my tastes and personality at the door. I'm probably tougher on historical accuracy issues than average, and more lenient on whether the characters' goal-motivation-conflict is handled just the way it's taught in RWA workshops. There's nothing I love more than a good Regency, but I'm also more sensitive to cliches or factual errors in the subgenre just because I know the era so well and have read so many books set in it. I try to be aware of my biases and not let them impact my judging too much, but I don't think I can get rid of them altogether. And I'm sure every other judge is the same way.
So, on to judging. With both the RITA and the GH, you're judged by a jury of your peers. You have to be published with an RWA-recognized publisher to judge the former, and you just have to be an RWA member to judge the latter, though I think members who have PRO status (unpublished, but have completed and submitted at least one manuscript) get priority. Maybe. I'm not really sure about that part.
What distinguishes the GH from local RWA chapters' contests is that there is no feedback. Instead of getting your manuscript back with a detailed scoresheet and comments and suggestions, you just get your numerical scores in a range from 1-9, along with whether you were in the first quartile, second quartile, or bottom 50% of all entrants in your category. The reason I've heard for the lack of feedback is fear of lawsuits--RWA doesn't want to get sued because one of its members doesn't know how to give tactful feedback. But it also makes sense given the larger scale of the GH. Those local contests average 20-30 entries per category AFAICT, while the GH allows 1200 entries across the 12 categories. It would be a lot of work for the small staff at the national office, and feedback isn't really the purpose of the GH. It's a potential career boost for writers on the verge of publication. I'd never advise entering the GH as your first contest--better to try a few local ones first, see how other writers react to your work, and if you're finaling or coming close to it, THEN shell out the bucks for the GH.
All that said, it still bothers me a bit that the most important contest in RWA's world has the least quality control. I judge a lot of local contests, but if I was a vindictive or incompetent judge, I wouldn't get to keep doing so for long. My mean spirit or ignorance would show in my comments, and contest coordinators wouldn't keep inviting me back. But with the GH, there's no way to know. I've heard stories that make me wonder, like a friend who got a 2.0 from one judge the same year her other entry finaled. To me, a 2.0 is the kind of score you'd give an entry that showed an utter lack of competence at grammar and craft. And I know that's not the case with this writer. For starters, I've read her work. Also, she's published now. Her first book comes out in May, and IIRC it's the one that got that ridiculously low score.
I've heard plenty of similar stories, so I think there are GH judges out there who have no business judging. (Incidentally, I'm not speaking from personal experience here. I'm obviously not thrilled* with how The Sergeant's Lady scored last year, given that it didn't, you know, final, but none of the scores were out of line with what a competent, qualified judge who just happened to have different criteria for what makes an ideal romance than I do might assign.**) And I'm not sure what the solution is. The best I can come up with is something I suggested to the board when they asked for feedback on the contests: I said that each judge should write a few sentences per entry justifying her scoring, not for the entrants, but for the national office to review. That way they could weed out obvious incompetence, and maybe judges would feel a certain constraint not to be petty or arbitrary. Or maybe there should be mandatory training, or only people who've judged X number of local contests should be eligible to judge the GH. But I'm not sure any of those ideas would work. Maybe there isn't a solution.
* "Not thrilled" is perhaps an understatement of my reaction when I first received my scores, which IIRC ranged from 5.0 to 7.8 and were mostly in the 6's, putting me in the bottom 50% of my category. After a couple of finals and several near-misses in local contests, that bottom 50% finish was quite a blow. But nearly a year later, I've gained some perspective. I'll never know what those scores really meant, but they don't undo or negate every bit of good feedback I've ever gotten on the manuscript.
** There's really nothing anyone can do about the fact there's an element of subjectivity in judging. For example, I try my best to be a fair judge, but I can't completely check my tastes and personality at the door. I'm probably tougher on historical accuracy issues than average, and more lenient on whether the characters' goal-motivation-conflict is handled just the way it's taught in RWA workshops. There's nothing I love more than a good Regency, but I'm also more sensitive to cliches or factual errors in the subgenre just because I know the era so well and have read so many books set in it. I try to be aware of my biases and not let them impact my judging too much, but I don't think I can get rid of them altogether. And I'm sure every other judge is the same way.
Golden Heart time, Part One
A week from today, RWA will announce the finalists for its two big contests: the RITA for published authors and the Golden Heart for the unpublished. I'm entered in the GH with The Sergeant's Lady. I'm not really expecting to final. Last year the same manuscript didn't even come close, and I haven't made major changes beyond improving the synopsis quite a bit. On the other hand, it's finaled and gotten high scores in local contests in the past, so who knows? It all depends on the judge draw really, whether your writing is to their taste, once you've passed a certain threshold of basic competence WRT craft.
In a way, it shouldn't matter if I final or not. I've already decided to do the Historical Novel Society conference this year instead of RWA National, so I won't get to enjoy the perks of being a finalist at the conference. But, you know what? I want to final. I can't help it. I'm competitive, for starters. And I love that story and those characters, so I want everyone who reads it to love them, too! So I'll take my cell phone to church with me next Sunday (set to vibrate, of course) and try to get an outside aisle seat. Just in case, you know.
There's been some discussion in the blogosphere the past few days, not quite rising to the level of a kerfuffle yet, IMO, about the value of the published award, the RITA. It started with this post by Barbara Samuel at Romancing the Blog and has continued over at the Smart Bitches (where Nora Roberts and Jennifer Crusie have both weighed in). In some ways, it's the kind of discussion you could have about the Oscars, the Emmys, the Booker Prize, Olympic figure skating--anything subjective. Do the best stories win, or the safest middle-of-the-road ones by authors with established fanbases? Why doesn't the RITA have the same status in romance reader eyes as the Hugo and Nebula have for sf/f readers?
Most of those questions don't apply to the GH. We're unpublished, so there's no question of winning the GH because you're popular or as sort of a "lifetime achievement award" for a mediocre book because people belatedly realize you ought to have won several times in the past. And while a GH makes a nice credit when querying editors and agents, as an unpublished award it's obviously meaningless to the reading public. But there's also discussion of categories and judging, which are equally relevant to the GH.
There are currently 12 categories common to both contests, with two additional for the RITA only (Best Romantic Novella and Best First Book). Some of the category divisions are obvious--it makes complete intuitive sense to me that Young Adult and Inspirational romances are categories apart. But there are fully three categories for historical romance (Long Historical, Short Historical, and Regency, the latter being for the unfortunately-nearly-extinct traditional Regency rather than the highly popular Regency historicals, which compete in LH and SH). FOUR for contemporary romance (Single Title Contemporary, Short Contemporary, Long Contemporary, and Traditional, the latter three basically for the various Harlequin/Silhouette lines). And I really feel like those need some streamlining. I don't read enough contemporary to feel like I have a right to speak to how to trim the categories, but as a historical reader and writer I don't see the point of three categories. Regencies, much as I love them, are on life support. There simply aren't anything like enough of them being published to warrant a separate segment of the contests. And as for short and long historicals, I just don't get the point of the distinction. Maybe it's rooted in some bit of genre history from before my time, but length has nothing to do with how I evaluate a book, as long as it doesn't feel too pared down or padded out for the amount of story the author has to tell.
This is getting long, so I'll put my thoughts on judging in a second post.
In a way, it shouldn't matter if I final or not. I've already decided to do the Historical Novel Society conference this year instead of RWA National, so I won't get to enjoy the perks of being a finalist at the conference. But, you know what? I want to final. I can't help it. I'm competitive, for starters. And I love that story and those characters, so I want everyone who reads it to love them, too! So I'll take my cell phone to church with me next Sunday (set to vibrate, of course) and try to get an outside aisle seat. Just in case, you know.
There's been some discussion in the blogosphere the past few days, not quite rising to the level of a kerfuffle yet, IMO, about the value of the published award, the RITA. It started with this post by Barbara Samuel at Romancing the Blog and has continued over at the Smart Bitches (where Nora Roberts and Jennifer Crusie have both weighed in). In some ways, it's the kind of discussion you could have about the Oscars, the Emmys, the Booker Prize, Olympic figure skating--anything subjective. Do the best stories win, or the safest middle-of-the-road ones by authors with established fanbases? Why doesn't the RITA have the same status in romance reader eyes as the Hugo and Nebula have for sf/f readers?
Most of those questions don't apply to the GH. We're unpublished, so there's no question of winning the GH because you're popular or as sort of a "lifetime achievement award" for a mediocre book because people belatedly realize you ought to have won several times in the past. And while a GH makes a nice credit when querying editors and agents, as an unpublished award it's obviously meaningless to the reading public. But there's also discussion of categories and judging, which are equally relevant to the GH.
There are currently 12 categories common to both contests, with two additional for the RITA only (Best Romantic Novella and Best First Book). Some of the category divisions are obvious--it makes complete intuitive sense to me that Young Adult and Inspirational romances are categories apart. But there are fully three categories for historical romance (Long Historical, Short Historical, and Regency, the latter being for the unfortunately-nearly-extinct traditional Regency rather than the highly popular Regency historicals, which compete in LH and SH). FOUR for contemporary romance (Single Title Contemporary, Short Contemporary, Long Contemporary, and Traditional, the latter three basically for the various Harlequin/Silhouette lines). And I really feel like those need some streamlining. I don't read enough contemporary to feel like I have a right to speak to how to trim the categories, but as a historical reader and writer I don't see the point of three categories. Regencies, much as I love them, are on life support. There simply aren't anything like enough of them being published to warrant a separate segment of the contests. And as for short and long historicals, I just don't get the point of the distinction. Maybe it's rooted in some bit of genre history from before my time, but length has nothing to do with how I evaluate a book, as long as it doesn't feel too pared down or padded out for the amount of story the author has to tell.
This is getting long, so I'll put my thoughts on judging in a second post.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
It all depends what your definition of pizza is...
Last Saturday my husband and I had dinner at a newish restaurant called Serious Pie, a fancy pizzeria owned by Tom Douglas, founder of a miniature empire of Seattle restaurants. Needless to say the pizza is nothing at all like what you'd order from Domino's, and Dylan and I loved it. Dylan ordered the "green eggs and ham" (soft-cooked egg, arugula, and spicy coppa ham), while I had that night's special, which featured onions, garlic, and thin slices of roasted yam. Next time we go, I want to try the foraged mushroom and truffle cheese and the yukon gold potato with rosemary and garlic oil.
Yes, it's an eensy tad pretentious. But utterly delicious, and the crust is a revelation, thin but substantial, perfect in texture, and with a wood-oven char that ought to taste burnt but is the bread equivalent of the smoky, crispy outer bits of good barbecue.
So, after this blissful culinary experience, out of curiosity I googled the restaurant to see what other diners had thought. While official restaurant critics were near-universal in their praise, it got surprisingly mixed reviews from regular diners. People complained that the crust is burnt and weird-tasting. They griped that there isn't enough cheese (me, I think ordinary pizzas often have so much cheese it drowns out the taste of the crust and toppings, but that's neither here or there). They thought the toppings were TOO out there. In short, Serious Pie doesn't match their idea of what a pizza is.
At first, I was tempted to sneer at these reviewers--don't they appreciate great food when they taste it, and don't they realize this is closer to authentic Italian pizza? But then I realized I don't have a leg to stand on. Give me a choice between the best authentic Chinese food and the Americanized mu shu chicken and sweet and sour pork from the local takeout place, and I'll take the latter every time. I know it's not as good, but it's comfortable and familiar and is therefore what I want to eat. I'm just a little (OK, a lot) more willing to experiment with Italian cuisine, and less attached to the Americanized standards for pizza or spaghetti and meatballs. Quirk of the taste buds or something.
I thought of this yesterday when I received a thank you letter from the coordinator of an RWA contest I judged recently. Enclosed was a chart comparing the scores for the five entries I'd judged--always a useful thing, IMHO, so you can get a feel for whether you're being too harsh or too generous in your scoring. In this case, I was in line with the rest of the panel on all but one entry, but I noticed that one of the other judges was basically my opposite. Our scores were very close on the one entry that was strong on all levels (and happened to be one of the finalists). But for the other four, the two I scored low, she scored high, and vice versa.
The two I scored highly both stood out as different from standard historical romance fare. The settings were a bit off the beaten path, the characters weren't from Central Casting, and in one case especially I could just see the author's love for her characters and setting and all the research she'd put into their world shining on the page, without being at all over-researched or pedantic.
The two my opposite favored were much more typical historical romance fare--AND were to differing degrees completely historically implausible. I couldn't accept their premises, and therefore couldn't enter into the world of the story. Maybe my opposite judge didn't notice the inaccuracies. Maybe she writes contemporaries or paranormals or whatever and volunteered to judge the historical category because she was entered in one of the others. Or maybe she's just not a raging history geek like me. Most people aren't. (I've commented to Dylan that the part of the brain he uses for listing MVPs and Cy Young Award winners, I use for Regency-era marriage law, forms of address for the different ranks of British nobility, and Napoleonic-era military tactics, weapons, and uniforms. This led to speculation on our mutual uselessness in a post-apocalyptic society--"No, we can't grow food, but he knows who was the AL Rookie of the Year in 1987, and I know how to properly address the daughter of an earl." But I digress. A lot.)
I know the moral of the story should be that it's just like the pizza thing. I don't have any more right to put on airs over preferring the unusual and the historically accurate than I do over liking my pizza exotic. But, and it may be snobbery on my part, I can't quite make myself believe it. IMNSHO, the two things the historical romance genre needs most right now are more variety of setting, era, and character type and greater historical accuracy. The variety issue IS a matter of taste, and I'm delighted to read popular settings and themes when they're executed with strong characterization and a fresh voice. But I just can't make myself accept that historical accuracy in what is after all a form of HISTORICAL fiction is trivial and optional.
Yes, it's an eensy tad pretentious. But utterly delicious, and the crust is a revelation, thin but substantial, perfect in texture, and with a wood-oven char that ought to taste burnt but is the bread equivalent of the smoky, crispy outer bits of good barbecue.
So, after this blissful culinary experience, out of curiosity I googled the restaurant to see what other diners had thought. While official restaurant critics were near-universal in their praise, it got surprisingly mixed reviews from regular diners. People complained that the crust is burnt and weird-tasting. They griped that there isn't enough cheese (me, I think ordinary pizzas often have so much cheese it drowns out the taste of the crust and toppings, but that's neither here or there). They thought the toppings were TOO out there. In short, Serious Pie doesn't match their idea of what a pizza is.
At first, I was tempted to sneer at these reviewers--don't they appreciate great food when they taste it, and don't they realize this is closer to authentic Italian pizza? But then I realized I don't have a leg to stand on. Give me a choice between the best authentic Chinese food and the Americanized mu shu chicken and sweet and sour pork from the local takeout place, and I'll take the latter every time. I know it's not as good, but it's comfortable and familiar and is therefore what I want to eat. I'm just a little (OK, a lot) more willing to experiment with Italian cuisine, and less attached to the Americanized standards for pizza or spaghetti and meatballs. Quirk of the taste buds or something.
I thought of this yesterday when I received a thank you letter from the coordinator of an RWA contest I judged recently. Enclosed was a chart comparing the scores for the five entries I'd judged--always a useful thing, IMHO, so you can get a feel for whether you're being too harsh or too generous in your scoring. In this case, I was in line with the rest of the panel on all but one entry, but I noticed that one of the other judges was basically my opposite. Our scores were very close on the one entry that was strong on all levels (and happened to be one of the finalists). But for the other four, the two I scored low, she scored high, and vice versa.
The two I scored highly both stood out as different from standard historical romance fare. The settings were a bit off the beaten path, the characters weren't from Central Casting, and in one case especially I could just see the author's love for her characters and setting and all the research she'd put into their world shining on the page, without being at all over-researched or pedantic.
The two my opposite favored were much more typical historical romance fare--AND were to differing degrees completely historically implausible. I couldn't accept their premises, and therefore couldn't enter into the world of the story. Maybe my opposite judge didn't notice the inaccuracies. Maybe she writes contemporaries or paranormals or whatever and volunteered to judge the historical category because she was entered in one of the others. Or maybe she's just not a raging history geek like me. Most people aren't. (I've commented to Dylan that the part of the brain he uses for listing MVPs and Cy Young Award winners, I use for Regency-era marriage law, forms of address for the different ranks of British nobility, and Napoleonic-era military tactics, weapons, and uniforms. This led to speculation on our mutual uselessness in a post-apocalyptic society--"No, we can't grow food, but he knows who was the AL Rookie of the Year in 1987, and I know how to properly address the daughter of an earl." But I digress. A lot.)
I know the moral of the story should be that it's just like the pizza thing. I don't have any more right to put on airs over preferring the unusual and the historically accurate than I do over liking my pizza exotic. But, and it may be snobbery on my part, I can't quite make myself believe it. IMNSHO, the two things the historical romance genre needs most right now are more variety of setting, era, and character type and greater historical accuracy. The variety issue IS a matter of taste, and I'm delighted to read popular settings and themes when they're executed with strong characterization and a fresh voice. But I just can't make myself accept that historical accuracy in what is after all a form of HISTORICAL fiction is trivial and optional.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
GH entries arrived today...
As most of y'all reading this undoubtedly already know, I have a 2 1/2-year-old daughter, Annabel. This year for the first time Annabel understands Christmas, and she's really, REALLY into the present part. On two occasions we've come home from our work and her daycare to discover a package waiting on the doorstep containing a gift for her, and since we've never been too strict about waiting for Christmas morning, we've let her open them.
Today my husband picked her up from daycare, and they got home before I did...to find a FedEx box waiting on the doorstep from the RWA National office--the Golden Heart entries I'm to judge. Apparently it took some work on Dylan's part to convince Annabel that it wasn't a present for her, but instead was something for Mommy.
The instant I got inside the door, Annabel pushed the box toward me, saying, "Mommy! A present, for you! Open it."
I did. Annabel looked disappointed and baffled to find that it contained nothing but stacks of manuscript pages--I'm sure she doesn't get why anyone would ship Mommy something Mommy creates plenty of all on her own!
But I'm pleased with my "present." All my entries are in the Young Adult category, and from glancing at them it looks like there's a lot of variety in style and subject matter, so it should be fun.
Today my husband picked her up from daycare, and they got home before I did...to find a FedEx box waiting on the doorstep from the RWA National office--the Golden Heart entries I'm to judge. Apparently it took some work on Dylan's part to convince Annabel that it wasn't a present for her, but instead was something for Mommy.
The instant I got inside the door, Annabel pushed the box toward me, saying, "Mommy! A present, for you! Open it."
I did. Annabel looked disappointed and baffled to find that it contained nothing but stacks of manuscript pages--I'm sure she doesn't get why anyone would ship Mommy something Mommy creates plenty of all on her own!
But I'm pleased with my "present." All my entries are in the Young Adult category, and from glancing at them it looks like there's a lot of variety in style and subject matter, so it should be fun.
RWA Contests: Subjectivity
Every judge's instruction sheet or training class I've taken part in has urged judges to check our personal tastes at the door. You may prefer medievals to Westerns, but that shouldn't influence your scoring. If you hate vampire heroes, you really shouldn't sign up to judge the paranormal category. And if you have some narrow, specific turn-off and you get an entry that hits your hot buttons, you should send it back to the contest coordinator to be assigned to a different judge.
But it's impossible to achieve complete objectivity on something as subjective as what makes a well-written, enjoyable story. As a result, you can and do see scores that are all over the map for the same entry and the same scoresheet. I've seen this as both a judge and an entrant. As a judge, I'll read some entry that blows me away and think, "That one's a finalist for sure," only to discover after the first round is over that the other judges gave it mediocre scores--what I saw as A+ writing, they graded C-. And just as often, especially in contests that drop the lowest score, some entry that I thought was deeply flawed or just plain boring and average will make the finals.
As an entrant, I tended to get wildly diverging feedback. In the 20 or so contests I entered, I almost always got at least one very high or even perfect score--but I only got enough judges who liked me in the same contest to make the finals twice. This supposedly is a sign of having a strong, distinctive voice, and since that puts a flattering spin on my relative lack of success in contest-land, I choose to believe it.
But the last contest I entered with The Sergeant's Lady highlighted the subjectivity issue perfectly. I got Goldilocks feedback. One judge thought my story was too hot, another too cold, and the third just right. Literally. The issue in question was chemistry between my hero and heroine, and they were looking at my first 30 pages.
I deliberately play my characters' attraction more subtly in the early going than is typical in the romance genre for two important reasons: 1) In the first chapter, my heroine, Anna, is still married--her husband dies around p. 25. Though her marriage is miserable and we can see that her husband is a jerk, I don't want her to come across as someone who's looking to commit adultery, so I don't let her attraction to the hero, Jack, become overt until she's safely widowed. 2) Anna and Jack come from far enough apart on the social scale that they wouldn't naturally see one another as potential mates. To get past this, I opened the story by throwing them into a crisis that forced them to work together, which makes them get to know and appreciate each other as individual human beings as opposed to members of the categories Highborn Officer's Lady and Lowly Enlisted Man. But the class difference is still a pretty huge barrier (and the major conflict of the story), so I tried to write them as having a kind of chemistry and mutual attraction that the READER will notice, but that the characters themselves are oblivious to until a few chapters later.
I put a lot of effort into striking what I felt was just the right tone with their early interactions, and I'm pleased with the results. But in this case my judges read it three very different ways:
- Judge #1 thought it was too hot--she was troubled by ANY sign of attraction when one of the characters was still married to someone else.
- Judge #2 thought it was too cold--she didn't see any physical attraction or desire on the page.
- Judge #3 thought it was just right--she loved the entry in general, and specifically praised how I dealt with the characters' chemistry and attraction.
Naturally I think Judge #3 has wonderful taste, but can I really say that the other two are wrong? I don't think so. They just value different things, and I can't fault them for calling a perceived problem in my story as they saw it. We're in a subjective business, and contests are as good a way as any to get used to the fact that you'll never please everybody.
But it's impossible to achieve complete objectivity on something as subjective as what makes a well-written, enjoyable story. As a result, you can and do see scores that are all over the map for the same entry and the same scoresheet. I've seen this as both a judge and an entrant. As a judge, I'll read some entry that blows me away and think, "That one's a finalist for sure," only to discover after the first round is over that the other judges gave it mediocre scores--what I saw as A+ writing, they graded C-. And just as often, especially in contests that drop the lowest score, some entry that I thought was deeply flawed or just plain boring and average will make the finals.
As an entrant, I tended to get wildly diverging feedback. In the 20 or so contests I entered, I almost always got at least one very high or even perfect score--but I only got enough judges who liked me in the same contest to make the finals twice. This supposedly is a sign of having a strong, distinctive voice, and since that puts a flattering spin on my relative lack of success in contest-land, I choose to believe it.
But the last contest I entered with The Sergeant's Lady highlighted the subjectivity issue perfectly. I got Goldilocks feedback. One judge thought my story was too hot, another too cold, and the third just right. Literally. The issue in question was chemistry between my hero and heroine, and they were looking at my first 30 pages.
I deliberately play my characters' attraction more subtly in the early going than is typical in the romance genre for two important reasons: 1) In the first chapter, my heroine, Anna, is still married--her husband dies around p. 25. Though her marriage is miserable and we can see that her husband is a jerk, I don't want her to come across as someone who's looking to commit adultery, so I don't let her attraction to the hero, Jack, become overt until she's safely widowed. 2) Anna and Jack come from far enough apart on the social scale that they wouldn't naturally see one another as potential mates. To get past this, I opened the story by throwing them into a crisis that forced them to work together, which makes them get to know and appreciate each other as individual human beings as opposed to members of the categories Highborn Officer's Lady and Lowly Enlisted Man. But the class difference is still a pretty huge barrier (and the major conflict of the story), so I tried to write them as having a kind of chemistry and mutual attraction that the READER will notice, but that the characters themselves are oblivious to until a few chapters later.
I put a lot of effort into striking what I felt was just the right tone with their early interactions, and I'm pleased with the results. But in this case my judges read it three very different ways:
- Judge #1 thought it was too hot--she was troubled by ANY sign of attraction when one of the characters was still married to someone else.
- Judge #2 thought it was too cold--she didn't see any physical attraction or desire on the page.
- Judge #3 thought it was just right--she loved the entry in general, and specifically praised how I dealt with the characters' chemistry and attraction.
Naturally I think Judge #3 has wonderful taste, but can I really say that the other two are wrong? I don't think so. They just value different things, and I can't fault them for calling a perceived problem in my story as they saw it. We're in a subjective business, and contests are as good a way as any to get used to the fact that you'll never please everybody.
Friday, December 15, 2006
RWA Contests: The Over-the-top Story
Often when I'm judging a writing contest (and not infrequently when I'm reading a published book), about three pages in I'll roll my eyes and think, "Oh, come ON! That's just SILLY. I don't believe it for an instant." The published book moves straight to my library donation box, because life is too short to read bad books when there are so many good ones awaiting my attention. But when I have that reaction to a contest entry, I have to keep reading--and to keep all my comments and suggestions kind and tactful, because somewhere out there there's a real writer who loves that story as much as I love any of mine.
Sometimes my inability to suspend disbelief springs from a big factual/historical error. In that case, my job as a judge is easy. I point out the issue, striving for tact no matter how obvious whatever bit of reality the writer botched seems to me. (Because I am human, this sometimes requires pacing around the house grumbling about idiots who don't READ, and doesn't anyone do RESEARCH anymore, and why do people who don't care about history attempt HISTORICAL fiction. But I don't let myself comment on the entry until I'm past Outraged Historian mode.) I then try to offer a suggestion that would fix the error without drastically altering plot or character.
More often what throws me out of the story is that everything is just TOO something. Too big, too serious, too goofy, too black-and-white. In other words, over-the-top. I usually suggest striving for greater subtlety and working in some moral gray areas in both characters and situations.
But I always feel weird giving that advice, for two reasons. One is that books that strike me as over-the-top and ridiculous do get published, so maybe I'm telling a writer to fix something that ain't broke. I do try to set my personal tastes aside when judging, but it's not easy, and sometimes it's hard to tell the difference between "not to my taste" and "bad."
The other reason is that on some levels genre/popular fiction is supposed to be sweeping and over-the-top. Fantasy protagonists save the kingdom, or even the whole world, often over and over again. There's a strong thread of historical fiction where the hero just happens to meet all the important people and play a crucial role in every critical battle of his era. Romance heroes and heroines love on a grand scale. And I'm fine with all that. Phedre no Delaunay of Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel books can save Terre d'Ange a dozen times, and I'd be happy to read each new adventure. I love seeing the Peninsular War through Richard Sharpe's eyes and WWII through the Henry family of Wouk's Winds of War/War and Remembrance. All those books are GOOD over-the-top, IMO. And I think there truly is a qualitative difference between those books and the ones I want to throw at the wall--an art to the writing, a certain subtlety in the midst of the epic sweep, a certain humanity in the protagonists allowing me to identify with them no matter how much braver, smarter, or magically gifted by the gods with world-saving powers they are than I could ever hope to be.
I know the difference is there. But I don't know how to define that difference in any way that's helpful to some struggling writer who's entered a contest just hoping for some useful feedback to help her improve her book.
Sometimes my inability to suspend disbelief springs from a big factual/historical error. In that case, my job as a judge is easy. I point out the issue, striving for tact no matter how obvious whatever bit of reality the writer botched seems to me. (Because I am human, this sometimes requires pacing around the house grumbling about idiots who don't READ, and doesn't anyone do RESEARCH anymore, and why do people who don't care about history attempt HISTORICAL fiction. But I don't let myself comment on the entry until I'm past Outraged Historian mode.) I then try to offer a suggestion that would fix the error without drastically altering plot or character.
More often what throws me out of the story is that everything is just TOO something. Too big, too serious, too goofy, too black-and-white. In other words, over-the-top. I usually suggest striving for greater subtlety and working in some moral gray areas in both characters and situations.
But I always feel weird giving that advice, for two reasons. One is that books that strike me as over-the-top and ridiculous do get published, so maybe I'm telling a writer to fix something that ain't broke. I do try to set my personal tastes aside when judging, but it's not easy, and sometimes it's hard to tell the difference between "not to my taste" and "bad."
The other reason is that on some levels genre/popular fiction is supposed to be sweeping and over-the-top. Fantasy protagonists save the kingdom, or even the whole world, often over and over again. There's a strong thread of historical fiction where the hero just happens to meet all the important people and play a crucial role in every critical battle of his era. Romance heroes and heroines love on a grand scale. And I'm fine with all that. Phedre no Delaunay of Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel books can save Terre d'Ange a dozen times, and I'd be happy to read each new adventure. I love seeing the Peninsular War through Richard Sharpe's eyes and WWII through the Henry family of Wouk's Winds of War/War and Remembrance. All those books are GOOD over-the-top, IMO. And I think there truly is a qualitative difference between those books and the ones I want to throw at the wall--an art to the writing, a certain subtlety in the midst of the epic sweep, a certain humanity in the protagonists allowing me to identify with them no matter how much braver, smarter, or magically gifted by the gods with world-saving powers they are than I could ever hope to be.
I know the difference is there. But I don't know how to define that difference in any way that's helpful to some struggling writer who's entered a contest just hoping for some useful feedback to help her improve her book.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
RWA Contests: Scoresheets
There's no central standard for how RWA contests are conducted. Each chapter sponsoring a contest comes up with its own scoresheet, recruits judges according to its own standards, etc. (You might think a contest draws its judges primarily from the sponsoring chapter, but that's not always the case. They almost always have to recruit from other chapters. I'm a fairly ordinary unpublished RWA member--I'm a member of the "Pro" program and have finaled in a couple of contests, but that's it--and I probably judge 6 contests per year, only one of which is sponsored by a chapter I'm part of. And I could judge more often, but what with having a full-time job, a husband, and a 2-year-old, I'm trying to stop saying, "Sure, I can do that! Happy to help," EVERY SINGLE TIME a call for volunteers goes out.)
Anyway, though there's no set standard, chapters DO share information, and so there are a few common scoring systems. Most contests use a hyper-detailed scoresheet, with several pages of detailed questions on Pacing, Point of View, Conflict, Characterization, etc. As a judge, you score each question, usually on a scale of one to five, with a perfect score somewhere in the 200-300 range. A few ask you to score on the broad areas above, but leave the judge more discretion to define what constitutes good pacing, appropriate conflict, etc. And one or two use the Golden Heart scoring system where you simply rate the entry on a scale of one to nine, but unlike the GH ask you to provide feedback explaining your score.
As a judge, I prefer contests that use the less detailed scoresheets, such as the Molly, the Royal Ascot, and Romancing the Tome. I often feel the hyper-detailed scoresheets cramp my style and force me to major in the minors. E.g. occasionally I'll see an entry with some glaring flaw that ruins the reading experience for me. If the scoresheet doesn't address that flaw, or only gives it one five-point question on the 250-point scoresheet, there's no good way for me to score the manuscript as I believe it deserves. And on the other side, I've read fabulous entries that just don't quite mesh with that contest's scoring criteria--i.e. an entry where the hero and heroine don't meet in the first chapter, but the scoresheet devotes a lot of space to hero/heroine interaction, sexual tension, etc.
So, if you're entering a contest, always, ALWAYS look at the scoresheet before you mail in your entry. Most contests post them to their website, but if it's not there, you can always email the coordinator to ask. If your goal is to final and get your manuscript in front of an editor or agent, stay away from contests where you KNOW you'll be giving up points because of the nature of the story. Of course, you're always at the mercy of the judges. Some of the lowest scores I've ever received came from a contest where I thought the scoresheet was tailor-made to play to my strengths. But my judges didn't connect with the story and scored me accordingly. And of my two contest finals, one came from a hyper-detailed scoresheet, the other from a contest that uses the GH system. But as much as these things cost to enter, it makes sense to target your entries where you have the best chance of success.
Anyway, though there's no set standard, chapters DO share information, and so there are a few common scoring systems. Most contests use a hyper-detailed scoresheet, with several pages of detailed questions on Pacing, Point of View, Conflict, Characterization, etc. As a judge, you score each question, usually on a scale of one to five, with a perfect score somewhere in the 200-300 range. A few ask you to score on the broad areas above, but leave the judge more discretion to define what constitutes good pacing, appropriate conflict, etc. And one or two use the Golden Heart scoring system where you simply rate the entry on a scale of one to nine, but unlike the GH ask you to provide feedback explaining your score.
As a judge, I prefer contests that use the less detailed scoresheets, such as the Molly, the Royal Ascot, and Romancing the Tome. I often feel the hyper-detailed scoresheets cramp my style and force me to major in the minors. E.g. occasionally I'll see an entry with some glaring flaw that ruins the reading experience for me. If the scoresheet doesn't address that flaw, or only gives it one five-point question on the 250-point scoresheet, there's no good way for me to score the manuscript as I believe it deserves. And on the other side, I've read fabulous entries that just don't quite mesh with that contest's scoring criteria--i.e. an entry where the hero and heroine don't meet in the first chapter, but the scoresheet devotes a lot of space to hero/heroine interaction, sexual tension, etc.
So, if you're entering a contest, always, ALWAYS look at the scoresheet before you mail in your entry. Most contests post them to their website, but if it's not there, you can always email the coordinator to ask. If your goal is to final and get your manuscript in front of an editor or agent, stay away from contests where you KNOW you'll be giving up points because of the nature of the story. Of course, you're always at the mercy of the judges. Some of the lowest scores I've ever received came from a contest where I thought the scoresheet was tailor-made to play to my strengths. But my judges didn't connect with the story and scored me accordingly. And of my two contest finals, one came from a hyper-detailed scoresheet, the other from a contest that uses the GH system. But as much as these things cost to enter, it makes sense to target your entries where you have the best chance of success.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
RWA contests: an introduction
I think most people reading this blog are Romance Writers of America members and are therefore familiar with RWA writing contests, but since I'm planning to post about them all week, I'll give a brief description for anyone else who's here. All two or three of them.
Many RWA chapters sponsor annual contests as fundraisers, mostly for unpublished writers, though there are a handful for published books as well. You send in anywhere from 3 to 60 pages of your manuscript--usually the opening, often accompanied by a synopsis, though there are a handful of contests that judge something other than the beginning, ranging from first kisses to sex scenes to last chapters. Two to four first-round judges evaluate the entry. In most cases, you're facing a jury of your peers, namely other unpublished writers. (Many contests try to have at least one first-round judge per entry be published, and a few have all published judges or only use unpublished judges who've finaled in contests themselves, received judges' training, or who are members of RWA-Pro, a special program for writers who can prove they've completed and submitted a manuscript.)
If you make it into the finals, your entry is then sent on to the editor or agent judging the final round. Otherwise, you get your entry back along with a scoresheet--hopefully filled with useful, tactful, and relevant feedback from your judges!
And those are the two main reasons for entering RWA contests: to get feedback on your writing and to get your manuscript in front of an editor or agent you're targeting.
Many RWA chapters sponsor annual contests as fundraisers, mostly for unpublished writers, though there are a handful for published books as well. You send in anywhere from 3 to 60 pages of your manuscript--usually the opening, often accompanied by a synopsis, though there are a handful of contests that judge something other than the beginning, ranging from first kisses to sex scenes to last chapters. Two to four first-round judges evaluate the entry. In most cases, you're facing a jury of your peers, namely other unpublished writers. (Many contests try to have at least one first-round judge per entry be published, and a few have all published judges or only use unpublished judges who've finaled in contests themselves, received judges' training, or who are members of RWA-Pro, a special program for writers who can prove they've completed and submitted a manuscript.)
If you make it into the finals, your entry is then sent on to the editor or agent judging the final round. Otherwise, you get your entry back along with a scoresheet--hopefully filled with useful, tactful, and relevant feedback from your judges!
And those are the two main reasons for entering RWA contests: to get feedback on your writing and to get your manuscript in front of an editor or agent you're targeting.
Saturday, December 9, 2006
Golden Heart obsessing...
Next week I'm planning to post about RWA contests--my experiences as a judge and entrant, with maybe some tips on avoiding the most common flaws I see in the entries I judge. I judge a lot of contests, you see. I have trouble resisting those "judges needed!" pleas that go out on the RWA email loops. As my mother used to say, if you want to get something done, ask a busy person.
Now that I have an agent, I don't enter as many contests as I used to, but I did enter The Sergeant's Lady in the Long Historical category of the 2007 Golden Heart, which is the RWA's big annual national contest for unpublished writers.
It's been a month since I mailed my entry, and it'll be ~3 months before I know if I've finaled. So the logical thing to do would be to not think about it until the day finalists are notified. But I still spent a good chunk of my shower time this morning wondering if for contest purposes I should've cut the section from Ch. 2 that's setting up a subplot that doesn't bear fruit until later in the book, or if I should have tried for a longer and more detailed synopsis, since I ended up several pages under the maximum allowed. And was it the right choice to use TNR to end on a strong hook, or should I have used Courier even though it would've meant stopping a chapter earlier on a less dramatic hook?
Now that I have an agent, I don't enter as many contests as I used to, but I did enter The Sergeant's Lady in the Long Historical category of the 2007 Golden Heart, which is the RWA's big annual national contest for unpublished writers.
It's been a month since I mailed my entry, and it'll be ~3 months before I know if I've finaled. So the logical thing to do would be to not think about it until the day finalists are notified. But I still spent a good chunk of my shower time this morning wondering if for contest purposes I should've cut the section from Ch. 2 that's setting up a subplot that doesn't bear fruit until later in the book, or if I should have tried for a longer and more detailed synopsis, since I ended up several pages under the maximum allowed. And was it the right choice to use TNR to end on a strong hook, or should I have used Courier even though it would've meant stopping a chapter earlier on a less dramatic hook?
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