In 2023, the Writers Forum named me the author of their Book of the Year, with a joint award for Shuttlers and Paranormal City. I don’t remember exactly where I was when I found out, but I do remember the slightly ridiculous grin that took up residence on my face for much of the rest of that day.
What I get asked far less often, and what I think is actually the more interesting question, is: what changed afterwards? Did the award itself, that little bit of recognition, actually shift anything?
The honest answer is: yes and no, and not always in the ways you’d expect.
What It Didn’t Do
Let’s start with what it didn’t do, because I think this matters more than people assume. It didn’t suddenly make the writing easier. The Muse did not read the announcement and decide to behave herself from that point onward; she’s still just as likely to derail a perfectly good Tuesday morning with an entirely unrelated idea as she ever was. The editing didn’t get any less laborious, either. The award didn’t shorten that process by a single pass.
Another thing it didn’t do was make me rich. As far as I can determine, only one person bought a copy of Paranormal City because of that award. They mentioned it once in a Facebook post while asking when the next one was coming out. Other than that, I don’t think I gained anything. Not monetarily, anyway
It also didn’t transform me overnight into someone who finds it easy to talk about their own work without immediately undercutting it with a joke; old habits, and all that.
What It Did Do
What it did give me, more than anything, was permission. Mostly permission to believe something I’d been telling myself without quite believing it. My philosophy has always been that only those crazy enough to think they’ll succeed actually will. The award didn’t create that belief out of nothing, but it did make it a great deal easier to hold on to on days when the Muse was uncooperative, and the words weren’t coming. Yes, that happens, even to me!
It also opened doors that hadn’t been open before. More interviews. More invitations to talk to groups: the WI, the U3A, and a Rotary Club in New Hampshire via Zoom. Places that might not otherwise have had reason to ask a self-confessed Pantser to come and explain himself for an hour. People have a slightly different first impression of you when there’s an award attached to your name, even if the work underneath hasn’t changed one bit.
And, in a quieter way, it changed how seriously I took my own pace. I was already churning out words at a fairly alarming rate, but the award made me feel less like I was simply being prolific for the sake of it, and more like there was something in the volume itself worth taking seriously.
The Bit That Surprised Me Most
What surprised me most, if I’m honest, was how little it changed my relationship with the work. I had a fear of success, assuming, wrongly, as it turns out, that winning something like this would create pressure, a fear of not living up to it in whatever came next. It hasn’t, really. Possibly because I never know what’s coming next anyway. You can’t live in fear of disappointing expectations for a book you haven’t written yet when you don’t have the faintest idea what that book’s going to be until the Muse decides to tell you.
So, Was It Worth It?
Yes, without question. Not because it makes me feel important, though I won’t pretend it doesn’t get a mention when I’m introducing myself at a talk, but because of what it confirmed. The stories I’m pulled into writing, the genre-mashing, Pantser-built, often slightly unhinged stories that come out of me, land with people. That’s the part that actually matters.
The award is a lovely addition to my Home page, along with a quote from the Chief Editor. But the real prize, as far as I’m concerned, is still just getting to sit down and find out what happens next.