A Gracious Loser
Let’s just jump right into it, shall we?
I thought this blog was going to be different.
Different content. Different vibe. And more specifically, a different—happier—ending. This blog should’ve included a huge, life-changing announcement that I’ve been keeping close to my chest for a few months now. One that I’ve been quite literally busting at the seams to announce. Like I had half-written this blog in my head—which given the events of the last few days, I’ve had to rip from my subconscious notebook, crumple into a ball and toss it into the “abyss of abandoned concepts” at the back of my brain. You’d be surprised how much gets sent there. Instead, I’ve done an about face and am writing about my complete and utter disappointment.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Context, Jena, context!
Let’s start from the very beginning—said in my very best Julie Andrews voice.
So, I wrote a book.
*GASP* “I had no idea!” you say, with every ounce of sarcasm you can muster.
I know; the horse has been beaten and long buried. But yeah, I wrote a book and independently published it over a year ago. Now, when you independently publish, you don’t have a mountain of cash or a publisher’s in-house marketing team to garner publicity and get the world out about your project. It’s all on you, baby. Since this isn’t my first rodeo, I’ve learned a lot since I dipped my toe into the world of self-publishing. The first being the power of social media and “word of mouth.” So, I’ve spent the last year hitting the proverbial pavement and doing everything in my power to attract readership. I’ve done a decent job on my own via this blog, my Facebook page, Instagram and Twitter. Additionally—and something I didn’t do last time—professional book reviews have been a great vehicle for book sales—which is the case whether you traditionally or independently publish. Over half the books you own were purchased because of a review you stumbled across, a New York Times Best Seller rating or friend’s recommendation. That’s just how it works—as consumers, we buy EVERYTHING based off the opinions of others. So I started submitting The Witness Tree to be professionally reviewed.
And I’ve gotten GREAT responses.
*If you’re curious, click the link —>*
The last professional review I had was from BookLife Reviews—the Independent subsidiary of Publishers Weekly. Publishers Weekly is a major player in the publishing world; you want your book to be featured in their magazine, and a glowing review guarantees readership. As part of the deal with BookLife, you submit your book for a review—which would be published on their site—as well as the chance to be picked up by Publishers Weekly for a feature. Obviously it was a no-brainer and I submitted The Witness Tree back in April. A few weeks later, my review was sent back to me and it was pretty near perfect. Reading that your book is “so detailed, well-researched, well written, and thoughtfully executed that it is easy to become enthralled by it,” or “Steinmetz's storytelling is engaging and flows faultlessly between the past and present” is a writer’s dream response. The also awarded me a 9.25 rating—a perfect score was a 10. I was REALLY excited.
And it didn’t stop there.
With a goal of discovering and cultivating authors of self-published work, BookLife Reviews awards an annual prize to the best work of fiction and nonfiction. All books submitted for a review are eligible for consideration in one of six categories (For Fiction: Romance/Erotica; Mystery/Thriller; Science Fiction/Fantasy/Horror; General Fiction; and Middle-Grade & YA Fiction). Awards are given to finalists in both the fiction and nonfiction categories, with a grand cash prize of $5,000 going to the most outstanding finalist.
So unbeknownst to me, I had thrown my hat into the ring in the General Fiction category for the BookLife Prize! And received a pretty high score to boot! Like let’s be honest; a perfect score would need to be something like War and Peace, right? And I’d have to assume that a book that outstanding would’ve been traditionally published. My high score meant I was a very possible contender for later rounds—the 10 highest scores for each genre would move on to the quarter finals, five would be selected for the semi-finals based on merit by Publishers Weekly and the BookLife’s editors and one would be chosen from each category as a winner, then of this list two would be chosen by a panel of judges to move onto the finals.
My “contender-ship” was reaffirmed a few weeks later when I received an e-mail from one of the Prize administrators—congratulating me on my high score and making sure I knew to make my review public on their site so other people could read it. He also provided a link to the Prize’s page, where the entrants and their scores were listed. I’ll admit, I became a bit obsessed with checking the site. Especially when the contest officially closed at the end of August. It became a morning ritual for me: sit down at my desk, check my e-mail, and take a sip of coffee as I navigate to the BookLife site.
Typically, I try not to get excited about things like this; my husband says I’m the eternal optimist, but when it comes to life-changing situations—like landing an agent, after voiced interest in my manuscript (true story)—I try to keep it real. The crash of disappointment is a cruel, cruel bitch. So my excitement gets buried down deep in order to protect myself. But I couldn’t help it; weeks went by and my position at the top remained stagnate. I allowed myself to dream a bit. Dream of what I’d do with the $5000 prize—let’s be honest, I’d put it towards my student loans—the agents who’d be contacting me in droves to represent my next novel, the book deal I’d sign: all of it because of the BookLife Prize. I believed in The Witness Tree and that with it, my whole life would change.
Then things started to shift in the other direction. I guess scoring a perfect 10 wasn’t so far-fetched. Four novels earned it within the last few weeks. And then 3 more scored 9.75. But it wasn’t concerning; my 9.25 was still good enough and I just had to stay in the Top 10 for my category.
Well, the day before the Quarterfinals were to be announced, I slipped to a “technical” 11th place. I say technical because 3 entrants had a 9.25, and The Witness Tree was listed second—the site’s listings were based of when they were submitted for consideration. So it was a 3-way tie for the 10th and final spot. Which presents a problem for the General Fiction category; what happens when the 10 highest scores are actually 12 books? Do you let all 12 through? Or stick to the drop-dead rule of only 10, and come up with some sort of tie-breaker?
An unexpected conundrum—one that the BookLife Prize had to contend with very late in the game. As a result, the announcement was pushed back by a day—and yes, I know all of this because I was stalking the site.
Unfortunately, the decision did not turn out in my favor: for General Fiction, they chose to cut the Quarterfinals list to 9 submissions, completely negating the three identical scores. So I was out by the skin of my teeth.
Like I said, disappointment is a cruel, cruel bitch.
“Don’t discount your high score! You still did amazing!” my husband said to me after, trying to talk me out of my disappointment spiral. “Like how many books did you score higher than?”
91
I went back and counted; there were 91 public submissions in my category alone, and I had the 9th highest score. Moreover, I scored higher than many of the entrants in the other categories, some of which moved onto the Quarterfinals. Obviously that pissed me off—how is that fair, when my book was clearly of higher caliber?
My husband’s response to all of the above was (annoyingly) diplomatic; “Don’t focus on that! Focus on how well you did!”
Basically, he was telling me to be a gracious loser. To appreciate “just being nominated and surrounded by such great works of fiction.”
Instantly my mind went to that episode of Friends when Joey was up for a Soapy Award. Need a refresher? Here it is:
So yeah, it sucks. Sucks BIG time. And to be clear I never expected to win the prize—the competition was stiff. In truth, the cash prize meant very little to me; recognition in later rounds meant exposure via Publishers Weekly and reaching potential readers who know nothing about me or my book. It’d be free publicity and marketing, which your girl would never turn down.
But it’s fine.
I’m fine. My book is still doing fine, and I’ll continue to scream about it from the roof tops.
I guess I need to work on my gracious loser face, though :/