A Profusion of Prizes

I can’t keep up.

This is thought that is mostly rambling and unfinished, but it’s something I think about often: Those of us in Children’s lit kvetch about the small amount of notice children and young adult literature gets from the outside media (unless it’s a Potter book), but it still seems to me that there are so many awards given out that I can’t keep up. I know about the Scott O’dell, because I’ve seen the stickers on books, and I know that award goes to an historical fiction novel like Island of the Blue Dolphins, the work of historical fiction by Scott O’Dell. I know the ALA has an award for a work by a person of Latin ancestry, the Pura Belpré, although I’ve yet to see that as a sticker on a book. (And that could just be what books I read).

Since grad school, my awareness of awards has increased. Or, it seems the list of awards has grown… A Whitbread (now Costa) Book Award. The Bank Street Books. The Boston Globe- Horn Book Award, umpteen-hundred regional book awards, and now the Waterstone Children’s Book Prize, which is meant to recognize new authors and alert young people to new books.

Um. Aren’t all awards meant to do that?

In all likelihood, I’ve never heard of the Waterstone’s ‘s because it’s a UK award, as is the Nestlé Children’s Book Prize. Probably me having heard of it isn’t the point anyway — As long as it’s an award and someone can win a bit of recognition from their peers… (at Nestlé?), maybe that’s all that matters. Certainly writers can’t be looking for actual deep meaning in winning an award… or, rather I should say, no deep meaning other than “these six people really loved your book.” As I learned so well doing the Cybils, awards are based on the opinion of ONE group of people, not the value of your work as decided by all people. (I know I said that badly, but I’m sick of trying to parse that sentence correctly. Moving on.) The nominations we received were wildly varying — from books that I felt had little or no value, to multiple books having so much value that it was well nigh impossible to narrow the list down and say “THIS ONE is best.” (And again, good luck with that, Cybils Judges! Feb. 14th is approaching at a fast clip!) Perhaps in the end it comes down to the old argument about myriad award stickers on a book that makes it a worthy read to someone else… Sticker = Shiny Gold Seal of Approval (from someone, anyway) = more readers. Understand I have nothing but positive feelings toward book award winners, but I do think that win or lose, the awards are based on the opinions of a just one group. It’s impossible to determine absolute value of one’s writing from an award…

Via Cynsations, read a piece by Institute of Children’s Lit writer Jan Fields on how to maintain tension in a story, and not write in a way that can be described as “slight.” That’s not a criticism I’ve ever heard, but if you find that you or your character is avoiding conflict, the word ‘slight’ can be very apt!

I’ve just discovered Wordy Girls, the blog of four women, one of whose award-winning book, Hugging the Rock is sitting on my bedside table. It’s nice to discover the blogs of writers and to know that often, all of us waste time most shockingly. (Not referring to Wordy Girls in particular at all, please note.) So, I close with the writing blogger’s creed du jour:

“As a writer, I need an enormous amount of time alone. Writing is 90 percent procrastination: reading magazines, eating cereal out of the box, watching infomercials. It’s a matter of doing everything you can to avoid writing, until it is about four in the morning and you reach the point where you have to write. Having anybody watching that or attempting to share it with me would be grisly.”
~ Paul Rudnick

Back to staring at my keyboard.

That One Question, Finally Asked

Last night, a person whom I always think of as a “merry auld grig” (One of my fave Dickensonian words) asked me The Question that nobody has asked — not my mother, not my father, not my curious siblings, not my writing group.

The question? “So, how much was your advance?”

I had a good giggle that he was the one who asked me. I mean, that came entirely out of left field. I had a little mental pool going about who would ask first that didn’t even include him. I assumed it would be a family member, someone like my father, who has never thought that I had a real job (Of course, like many people, he’s also got quite a short attention span, so I haven’t actually bothered to tell him that I’ve sold a book… I’ll show it to him, in 2008, when he can hold it in his hand, and that will be enough notice for him. And then he’ll ask, “How much…?”), or my eldest sister, who is, well… forthright. (Otherwise known as nosy). But I’m glad someone asked, actually.

Not that the dollar amount is the point. The reality is that no matter how much your agent negotiates for, your advance is an advance amount on money that YOU are going to earn. It’s a payment against anticipated royalties, and, in a way, it’s a statement of faith, which explains why JK Rowling received an amount roughly equivalent to $4,000 U.S. (£1500 – £3000 are the amounts I found with some judicious searching), and the gentle suggestion that she keep her day job. Her editors at Bloomsbury UK weren’t convinced she could make a living from writing books. Of course, that explanation doesn’t always work… because it begs the question of what it means that Kaavya Viswanathan received $500K for a pair of books she hadn’t yet written. Little, Brown, & Co. apparently either believed that Kaavya was going to be writing bestsellers forever, or that she was a one-time flash in the pan, and that they’d best pay her off and be done with her.

Anyway. I hadn’t ever really given advances much thought, and I smile now to think how much time S.A.M. spent earnestly trying to elucidate to me the vagaries of royalties (“Okay – you get half the money after contracts, and the other half after you do exactly what she wants in the editorial letter, all right?”) and what it means to receive money. He was disappointed that my advance wasn’t bigger, but I’m okay with what I have… because again, to what do I have to compare the amount? Nada. Maybe I’ll get snotty about it later, but I really can’t see that happening. If you’re trying to write for a living? Honey, just about ANY amount is good.

So to answer The Question? Thanks for asking, the amount is … just enough for me.