Awards, love 'em or hate 'em?

Recently the Globe and Mail published an article about the plethora of literary awards springing up in Canada, often with a large amount of money attached. Large, that is, for writers, who often labour below the poverty line. Topping the list at $100,000 is the Scotiabank Giller Prize, but many of the lesser prizes also run into the five digits, and the Ottawa Book Award gives $10,000 to the winner and $1000 to each shortlisted (at least it did when I was nominated). The more money, the more the media hype. They may not be the Oscars, but they're the literary jackpot.

Some of the awards are regional or limited to a particular subject or genre, such as political writing, but most rarely include genre fiction on their shortlists, except when it's dressed up as "literary". Thus crime writers are shut out of the big awards and the associated media attention. The Arthur Ellis Awards are juried awards given out in seven categories by Crime Writers of Canada, but with the exception of nominal honoraria in a couple of categories, there is no money attached to the award. No $100,000, even for Best Novel. And media coverage, despite all the efforts and press releases of CWC? Virtually none.

Instead, we get this quirky statue to startle guests who come to the house.

We crime writers are fond of grumbling about the "lack of respect" afforded us by the CanLit establishment (other genres receive even more distain), but after reading this article, I'm left wondering - is this such a bad thing? The more money and publicity attached to an award, the greater the competition and the more devastating the fall-out if your precious book, to which you devoted years of your life, is not on a single shortlist. Sales of your book may sink like a stone, while those of the shortlist soar. Authors may begin to second-guess their talent, play it safe, write an "award-worthy", probably derivative book, or give up altogether. Publishers may select books based on their potential to please the CanLit juries, thus ignoring unique or edgier stories. Or they may choose not to pick up the next book by an author who failed to make the all-important shortlists the last time. Yet we all know that agents and publishers often fail to recognize talent and turn down a book that later becomes an international hit. JK Rowlands, anyone? Or closer to home, Louise Penny?

With so much riding on these nominations, there can't help but be competition and backstabbing among both authors and publishers. And an overarching anxiety among authors about their fate in a process over which they have no control. In such a toxic environment, how can creativity soar free and full of promise?

It is certainly an environment I would not want to write in. There is precious little to encourage us to write a book in the first place, beyond the desire to tell the story in our heads and the joy of finally seeing it in print, that I'd hate to have that joy crushed as soon as the award chatter begins. In this sense I'm grateful for being a crime writer, writing under the radar and enjoying the emails and reviews from fans and fellow writers who like my books. The mystery community is a supportive, friendly community. Both readers and writers like one another and share recommendations freely. We laugh at our "black sheep next to the kitchen at the literary banquet" status, knowing that's where all the fun and the best jokes are.

This is not to say awards are of no importance to us. I think we Canadian crime writers do think about the Arthur Ellis Awards and hope to make the shortlist when our work is eligible, and there's no doubt making the shortlist is a thrill and an affirmation of our skill. But we recognize lots of other good books did not make the shortlist because of the essentially subjective tastes of the judges. Athough winning the Best Novel award adds credibility and gravitas to a writer, it does not really affect sales and it does not end careers.

And as far as I know, no writer has ever stabbed another writer in the back to get their hands on that statue.

Politics, money, and the Arthur Ellis Awards

Barbara here. In my last blog, I talked about the Arthur Ellis Awards (and taxes, but let's not go there). They are Canada's premiere awards for crime fiction, which for some reason never seems to make it onto the other Canadian fiction awards lists like the Giller and the Governor General Awards. Not that we're complaining, really. With the bigger awards, there is the issue of politics and money, which are really two sides of the same coin. Money not only in terms of the size of the prize, which in the case of the Giller is $100,000, but in terms of the huge surge in sales, which allows both publisher and author to live to create another book. Perhaps even longer.

Because of this, politics rears its ugly head. Writers compete, publishers size up potential books in terms of their ability to win the big prizes, writers can be dumped if their books aren't nominated, rumours of influence and backroom deals abound, publishers lobby, and writers chafe with secret envy. Media scramble to do features on the latest literary stars, thus producing priceless additional publicity.

I should say at this point that since my last blog, the Arthur Ellis shortlists have been announced, and my Rapid Reads book, THE NIGHT THIEF, was shortlisted in the best novella category. Three other Ottawa authors were also shortlisted in other categories; Peggy Blair for HUNGRY CHOSTS in Best Novel, Jeff Ross for SET YOU FREE in Juvenile/ Young Adult, and Pam Isfeld for BRAVE GIRLS in the unpublished manuscript category. We are all thrilled. Our local paper, the Ottawa Citizen, ran a story on us which was picked up by many major dailies across the country because its owner, Postmedia, happens to own most of the newspapers in the country.

This publicity, along with a well-timed phone call, led to three of us appearing on the local CBC radio afternoon show, during which the host asked what impact such an honour would have on our lives. After suppressing a laugh, I was tempted to say “huge!”, but the truth is, the impact is subtle. In fact, you have to be a serious optimistic to see it at first. Politics and money play very little part in winning these awards, once again because the two go hand in hand. There is little or no prize money attached to these awards, and an author's future does not hinge on winning or losing one. Most crime writers can count on a modest income that may never lift them above the poverty line but that will grow slowly as they prove themselves and continue to write consistently good books. Crime writers build readership good book by good book, often in a series, rather than by one spectacularly brilliant book.

Because there are no politics and money, crime writers rarely compete with each other (and we suffer only occasional tweaks of envy), but instead we find there is solidarity and fun in cooperation. Readers who read one crime writer usually read others, so it's not a matter of competing for readers but rather sharing them. Crime writers are generally the friendliest and most supportive of colleagues, and because there's little money or fame at stake, we know the friendship is without strings or self-interest. There are benefits to being frozen out of that $100,000 prize money!

Arthur and I

So besides avoiding the jealousies, anxieties, and financial windstorms of literary prizes, what are these subtle benefits of the Arthur Ellis Awards? Most importantly, they are an affirmation of one's achievement as an author. Independently judged by a jury of experienced book people, they are an acknowledgement that your work stands out among its peers as excellent. This in itself is a huge boost to one's confidence and self-worth. Authors labour for months, often years, in the privacy of our little rooms, trying to produce a work of substance, but we really have little idea whether we've succeeded until the verdict comes back from readers. These awards are that verdict. Believe in yourself. Believe in your writing. It's good.

Secondly, the awards give a writer gravitas. Beyond bragging rights, winning the award brings respect from the book world in general, in the form of libraries, bookstores, reviewers, and media, and from fellow writers as well. No one can ever take that award away from you, and everyone takes a little more notice of you once you have that funny little hangman statue on your mantle. You may not have the media hounding you for feature articles, but when your next book comes out, reviewers may pick it up from the huge pile accumulating on their office floor.

Along with the increased respect comes a related, third, benefit; more name recognition and thus, more invitations to book events. Canada is full of literary festivals, readings, celebrations, and events.   A lot of factors influence literary festival invitations, including the author's popularity, the size of the publisher's purse and publicity machine, the tastes of the organizers and their past experiences with authors. But one thing is certain; it's difficult to get invited if no one has heard of you.  Organizers look for fresh faces and new talents. They look for authors whose works have been vetted. The Arthur Ellis Award, like other respected juried awards, provides that vetting.

Awards are subjective, and many good books do not get nominated. While being nominated is good for the ego, it does not follow that not being nominated is a mark of failure. Certain styles of book seem to get nominated over and over, while other equally excellent books do not. I believe this is partly due to the judging experience itself. Juries read dozens of books in rapid succession, so a  book with a unique style or a compelling opening will catch their flagging attention more than subtler stories.  In my experience, the majority of readers enjoy a good book and are not much influenced by the Arthur Ellis Awards, mainly because they've never heard of them.

On May 26, Crime Writers of Canada will celebrate all Canadian crime writing at its annual awards gala. I will be there, looking forward to raising a glass with my friends and colleagues, whether they are competing for a funny little hangman or not. Good luck to all!

Women's Work

Tuesday was International Women's Day, and the news was filled with articles and stats on how far we have come (gender parity in Canada's federal cabinet) and how far we still have to go (spousal assault stats, gender wage gap). Having been born in the immediate post War years and come of age in the social revolution of the 60s, I have marched some distance along the long road towards equality. In those nearly seventy years, it's easy to forget–and indeed, some never knew– how far we have come. My now 97 year-old mother has been my inspiration and role model for a strong, independent woman. She was born to relative privilege and attended private school in Westmount followed by finishing school in Paris, in the days when young ladies went to finishing school to get ready for their debut into "society". But while her friends practiced their courtesies and schemed over their dance cards, she chose instead to take the McGill university entrance exams. While those fine young ladies paraded their pedigrees and assets in the hopes of securing a hefty diamond ring by the end of the season, my mother was studying philosophy and science and dreaming of her place in the world.

Yet she was trapped by her era, her dreams stifled by her time and by the men who held the power over her life. She came from a long line of physicians and surgeons who had helped build the McGill medical school and the affiliated Montreal teaching hospital into a force to be respected internationally. Like her grandfather, father, and older brother before her, she wanted to be a doctor, but was told it was no job for a woman, who had neither the health nor the stamina for it. At 97, she sure has proved them wrong! So she did graduate work in biology and bacteriology instead, and when the reality of family responsibilities encroached, she became a high school biology teacher. But what a teacher! Innovative and creative throughout her teaching years, she wrote text books, developed a new ecology curriculum decades before its time, acted as president of her teaching union, and inspired countless students. After she retired, she went on to settle refugees and participate in social action and social justice causes, earning at the age of eighty a Caring Canadian Award from the Governor General of Canada. At 87, she wrote a book.

As her daughter, I had it slightly easier. But when I wanted to go to graduate school, the universities still required a letter from my father proving he could support me. When I wanted to buy a car, the bank required my husband to co-sign the loan, even though I was a professional on an equal footing with him. When I enrolled in my doctoral psychology program, the class consisted of nine men and me. Many of those men had wives who cooked their meals and did their laundry, allowing them to stay all hours at the lab. I had a great but lonely husband who just looked sad when the meals were late and the laundry forgotten. When I first started working as a school psychologist, women dominated the classrooms in elementary schools and made up about half of high school teachers, but there was only one woman principal in the whole school board. The higher you got in the school board, the more men dominated.

I'm happy to say times have changed. Women are everywhere in psychology and teaching and school board administration. They are dominant in many fields of university study, including law and medicine. But there is still this niggling reality that the fields dominated by women are the "soft", "nurturing" fields, and that the pay in these fields is not equal to the power-broker fields of science, tech, finance, and business, where it's still a man's world. I vividly recall a comparative entry-level income survey done between psychologists (who require a PhD and roughly 25 years of study) and regular engineers (a B Eng and less than 20 years). The engineers started at about $20K more than psychologists. At the time, I thought it's a good thing I love my work!

What does this have to do with this blog, which is after all a blog about writing? Because in some ways, the underlying themes hold true. Since I started my second career as a writer, I have banged my head against the same glass ceiling, encountered the same biases against women's stories the same undervaluing of women's choices, and the same preconceptions about the worth of women's work. An unpublished author, in an effort to find out why agents and publishers were rejecting her submissions, changed her name (and nothing else) to a male pseudonym and received eight times as many expressions of interest. Male authors receive more reviews, more festival invitations, more offers from the big publishers. And when it comes to prestigious awards, men win hands down.

Since recent surveys of publishing and literary agents reveal an overwhelming majority are white women, our sisters seem to be perpetuating the same message; men's stories matter more. And here's a recent anecdote to illustrate this. At the conference I just attended,  our Canadian contingent of crime writers organized a reception to highlight Canadian Crime. Pictures of all of us were posted to Facebook, prompting several commenters to ask "Are there no male Canadian crime writers?" There was one, but he was lost in the sea of hard-working women toiling on behalf of all of us. It's just what we do. What we have to do.

So it seems it is not yet time to lay down the sword and declare the battle won. But every time I grumble grumble grumble, I just have to remember my mother– where she came from and how far she travelled, against far greater odds than me. And if if all else fails, there's always the plucky thought "It's a good thing I love my work!"