The Book Contest/Book Festival Hustle

As the editor for Rama y Raíces, The Best of CALMA,  I'm always looking for opportunities to promote our work. With that in mind, I entered our book in the 2026 San Francisco Book Festival. We took first place in Compilations/Anthologies, however since there was only one other finalist in that category, I thought the competition was rather thin. As I'd never heard of this festival, before entering, I did my due diligence, noting that this wasn't the first year for this festival. I spot-checked some of the previous finalists, finding that all I looked into were self-published. Well, so was Ramas y Raíces. In fact, in many such contests and festivals, the majority of entrants have been, in my experience, self-published. What we all seek with these competitions is the validation of our efforts and a recognition of our place in the literary world.

 Source: San Francisco Festival of Books

My Spider-sense did tingle. After signing on for this festival, I started getting emails for festivals with similar names: Hollywood Book Festival. New York Book Festival. New England Book Festival. Horror Book Festival. And even during the writing of this blog post, I received an invitation to the Southern California Book Festival. All the webpages had almost identical layouts. Turns out the awards ceremony for all these festivals would be at the Los Angeles Book Festival (not to be confused with the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books). Some CALMA members expressed concern this endeavor might be a scam, selling tickets to a nonexistent event, and this prompted me to do more sleuthing. The ceremony venue was listed as the Roosevelt Hollywood Hotel. I couldn't find any mention of the Los Angeles Book Festival on the hotel website and my voice mail to the hotel went unanswered. 

But more digging around led me to the The Los Angeles Book Festival's Facebook group and their webpage.  

Turns out that these festivals are hosted by JM Northern Media, LLC, and click here to read what the National Writers Union says about them. And there's more vitriol here. Not to defend JM Northern Media, but these posts were written years ago so perhaps much has changed since then.

From last year's Award Ceremony we have this group photo of JM Northern Media's finalists.

 

Source:  Facebook-Los Angeles Books Awards 

The main accusation against such contests and festivals is that they can be an awards mill hustle. An organization announces a contest with a fee of $50 per entry--100 entries means $5,000. To some, that is a nice haul. Keep in mind that $50 is on the low end of entry fees. The International Impact Book Awards asks $79 for one category entry with a sliding scale going to a five-category deal of $259. Shelf Unbound's 2026 Best Indie Book is asking $130 for early bird pricing. Some of the more prestigious awards, like the Edgar Awards from the Mystery Writers of America, charge no entry fee but MWA is a large organization funded with membership dues in addition to gifts and grants.

Also, some contests and festivals sell packages offering more media exposure, tables to sell your books, etc., but that's all par for the course.

Then there's griping about paying to attend the award's ceremony. The Colorado Books Awards charges to attend their awards ceremony, in addition to their $60 contest entry fee. Hosting award ceremonies ain't cheap, especially if you add a wet bar and banquet services, even if it's simply hors d'ouerves. And hotels are notorious for pulling fast ones. (You didn't know there's a separate charge for AV setup?) 

Finally, people complain about getting their hopes up, thinking that whatever award they win will provide a life-changing leap forward, only to get a certificate to hang on the wall and another line to add to their author bio. Whether you think any award is worth your time, that's up to you. Buyer beware.

An Idea Worth Pursuing

I have a good idea for a story. One of the cliche questions authors are often asked is where the story ideas come from. After Bob Dylan received his Nobel Prize last week, 60 Minutes (click on to see the interview) showed a brief clip from an earlier interview with Dylan in which Ed Bradley asked him that very question. The answer is: who knows? Dylan said it was rather like magic, and I can’t argue with that. I think sometimes you just achieve the right state of consciousness, and the ideas are bestowed upon you out of the aether. In my series, I’ve used ideas that have come to me in every conceivable fashion.

A recurring character in the series came to me in all his fully realized glory several years ago when I was at a concert of the Black Watch and Cameron Highlanders Massed Bagpipe Bands and watching a very young, very serious, athletic, rose-lipped, red-cheeked Scottish sword dancer with dewy black eyes and a shag of black hair.

The murder in The Drop Edge of Yonder is based on an actual incident that happened to one of my great-great-grandfathers on my mother’s side during the Civil War. (A lot of the incidents in my books are inspired by my own and my husband’s wild and wooly family backgrounds.)

The Sky Took Him began with an idea that came to me while I was on the Oklahoma leg of a book tour for Hornswoggled in 2006. I had set up an event in Enid, OK, which is my husband’s home town. I was sitting with my husband and his sister in a restaurant called Pasttimes, the walls of which are covered with historic pictures of Enid. I was facing a 1915 print of a street scene showing two women going into Klein’s Department Store on the town square. You know how they sometimes do the opening of a movie by starting with a still photograph that dissolves into a moving scene? As I sat there and looked at that picture, those two women became Alafair and her daughter Martha on a shopping spree. What, I asked myself, are Alafair and Martha doing in Enid, of all places?

One great thing about writing historical fiction is that when you do your research, you discover that what really happened is often better than anything you could make up. I decided to set the sixth Alafair Tucker mystery, The Wrong Hill to Die On, here in Arizona, where I live, rather than in Oklahoma, where Alafair lives. I figured this would be a nice little diversion for Alafair, and for me as well. But Alafair has ten kids and a large farm, so there are a couple of problems I had to solve before I even begin: 1. Why on earth would Alafair go to Arizona in the first place? 2. Once she gets there, what is going on that she could get herself involved in, how, and why?

So I hied myself off to the Arizona State University library here in Tempe and begin perusing the files of the Arizona Republican newspaper for March of 1916, the date I intended to set the novel. I knew I’d find something really good, for after five previous novels set in the 1910’s I’ve learned that life in the early Twentieth Century Southwest was nothing if not action-packed. Was I ever right. Plot points and atmosphere galore, and all I had to do was spend an afternoon unspooling microfilm.

Hell With the Lid Blown Off  is about a tornado. Because, I thought, I can’t write a series set in Oklahoma and not write about what life is like in tornado alley. I didn’t need to make anything up. I used some incidents from my sister’s experience in the Joplin tornado and some very strange tornado experiences from other relatives and even some pretty odd ones of my own. But it’s impossible to exaggerate reality when it comes to what a big tornado can do.

My upcoming book, The Return of the Raven Mocker (January 2017), revolves around the flu epidemic of 1918. No one knows for sure how many died in the flu pandemic, but modern estimates put the number at somewhere between thirty and fifty million people worldwide. More than six hundred thousand of those were Americans. Twelve times as many Americans died from flu in 1918 than died in battle during World War I. In early 20th Century America, every housewife had her arsenal of remedies for common ailments, and many of were quite effective. Even so, it is likely that more than a few people died from unfortunate home remedies such as turpentine, coal oil, and mercury. Some scientists think that many who died during the epidemic were killed by aspirin poisoning rather than the disease. In the book, I used a story about the curative power of onion, told to me many years ago by the person to whom it happened. My friend was a young boy, he developed such a severe case of pneumonia that the doctor told his mother to prepare herself for his imminent demise. In an act of desperation, his mother sliced up a raw onion and bound it to the bottoms of his feet with strips of sheet, then put cotton socks on him. In the morning, his fever had broken, his lungs had cleared, and the onion poultice had turned black. Is that what saved him? I don’t know. But that didn’t keep me from using the idea.