I am not that long back from Los Angeles where, having been nominated, I attended the awards ceremony for the L.A. Times Book Prizes. Spoiler alert: I did not win! 😆 That said, though, I had a wonderful time. After all, 80% of the authors there were destined not to step up on stage, so I was in some pretty august company. Congratulations to Sylvia Park, whose novel Luminous did win—and deservedly so. I met a bunch of interesting people, made some new friends, met up with some old ones, and got to soak up the California sun after a dark Scottish winter.
No sooner had I returned home, it seemed, than I learned I’d been long listed for another award! This time, the Wilbur Smith Adventure Writing Prize, which I am also very excited about. It is a long list of twelve, which is longer odds than the L.A. Times’ shortlist of five, so I am not holding my breath!
But if I’m not holding my breath, why am I so excited? After all, including two successive long listings for BSFA best novel, I have now been nominated for at least four major awards, have so far won none and, statistically speaking, that streak is likely to continue. Why then, do I get a buzz about competitions I’m likely to lose?
The bulk of the answer to those questions is contained in the cliched phrase, “It’s an honor just to be nominated.” Cliched because it is true. Writing a book is an extremely subjective process: the writer has only a limited sense of how well or badly it’s going. Some days, I think I’m writing the next Hugo/Edgar award winner. Others, not so much. I just plow on and hope for the best. So, when something you’ve put out there gets nominated for something or picks up an award, it’s objective proof that someone, somewhere, thinks your book is not only good, it’s worth telling the world about. That is a rare thing and something to be cherished. Win or lose.