I'm both wracked with doubt about the current project and also passionately loving it, which seems to be the writerly condition in a nutshell.

​That cognitive dissonance of huge self-confidence (it's brilliant! I really got it this time!) pairs well with a deep, DEEP anxiety about how the project will appear to other people (ain't nobody, no how, no where, EVER gonna like this steaming hot mess I have created).

But, as with so many worries in this world, one must look away from the void and carry on. So while the project is getting edited (squeee! it's with the editor!), it's time to move on to book design.

This is a fairy-tale inspired short novel. Think The Last Unicorn, Greenwillow, The Princess Bride, Thomas the Rhymer by Ellen Kushner. All of which one can judge by the cover...

On She Taught Me Everything, I calibrated the book interior design from the cover. I commissioned an artist to make the cover and then coordinated the font and spacing to that and the general literary genre.  As someone described the job of book design, "You want your book to stand out, but not too much."

Overall, I want this new creation to feel pretty—bougie even—intriguing, consciously a touch old-fashioned. I do NOT want readers to expect a spicy-romantasy (be still my beating loins!), even though it's about true love. 

Look how a font sets the stage, even with place-holder Latin instead of content for the chapter:

That first, swirly font tells me to expect either a breezy self-help book or, possibly, a romance set in some retail world. So no.

And the second, hmmm, maybe a gritty speculative fiction? Something urban? Also no.

The chapters in novel #2 have text titles, not just numbers (see also "consciously old-fashioned"), which affords a chance to make the chapter openings a little extra.  

I am not a designer, but I do have opinions. Here's a chaotic look at how I'm shopping fonts:

The choice really sets the stage, I think.

Plus, get this, turns out it's the work of a few keystrokes to insert a bit of graphic art into a wordy document. Which translates into interesting chapter openings!—at least for the paperback book version. The ebooks, well, it's more of a hit-and-miss situation for artwork.

We'll cross that bridge when we get there.

First steps:

Nothing is set in stone, but I am liking this experiment so far.  

Like a Balrog, the thought reaches me from the void: But What About That Title?

Sigh.  Yes.
​It's still between titles. I'll be going to the beach to think about it soon.

It's been quite a year: humbling to start in the position of hoping that somebody–anyone? Beuller? Beuller?—would read my book.  

​And then the intense gratification as people (strangers!) have read it, reacted to it, talked about it, and asked me exactly the kinds of questions I love love LOVE to answer.

And to top it off, surprise presents, wrapped up in a bow: the book won a thing!

Two things!

​Contests!
​
​Oooh la la! Wheeeee! Awards! Prizes! ​ 

Not that contests are all that...(she said with a weary sigh)

One sad truth about publishing: EVERYBODY puts a hand out.  Some of those outstretched hands are dipping boldly into pockets, like raccoons in quest of graham crackers. 

Publishing's an industry built on dreams–naturally, opportunities abound for exploitation. And there are contests and contests: some are designed to highlight excellence and broadcast the news, others are designed to extract fees and stroke egos.

I can't claim to be immune; my pockets are overspilling with graham crackers. 

​Sometimes one learns best from uncomfortable mistakes, right?

To determine whether a contest is legit. It's not rocket magic.

It's the same process with which we should approach any transactional relationship: due diligence and dial the BS detector to "zero tolerance."

Each writing contest and award offers a value proposition: at the heart, the contest gives writers the opportunity to be read by a judge (ooh! one reader at a time!), the chance at wider readership (appealing beyond words), and possible bragging rights (world-famous even if a tiny world!), often in the form of a sticker to slap on the cover of the book.

An award has some value to me as creature made of vanity, but does it have value to my customers? Maybe.

I read a whole slew of Newbery Award winners one summer. I know book clubs that selected only Nebula Award winners or Booker Prize books, so that's something.  On the other hand, I bought a "Reader's Independent Something or Another Award" book recently because of the shiny sticker, and tbh, it was pretty awful. 

But THESE prizes, the ones my book brought home? THEY are not that.

​Both contests rate well among watchdog groups, and one is cutting me a check for $1000. Big time, baby!

I won the quarterfinal round of the annual Booklife Prize.  Booklife is the self-publishing arm of Publishers Weekly magazine.

They give you a nifty little electronic image for promotional purposes. 

I think a quarter-win is still a win. Plus I'll be quoting their critic's report on my various retail product pages. ​

And—drumroll please—I earned a nice fat check for $1000 and the top spot in the Writer's Digest Annual 32nd Annual Self-Published Book Award in the Literary/Mainstream Fiction division.  

This contest has been around for 30+ years, and is generally known for providing a chunk of useful feedback to entrants. 

​She Taught Me Everything is still in competition for the grand prize from Writer's Digest, which earns another nice purse and the cover of the magazine (with 40K paid subscriptions).  We'll cross fingers for that one.

Meanwhile, $1000 will purchase a lovely cover for novel #2.

References
One list of contests from Reedsy:
https://blog.reedsy.com/writing-contests/

This list of contests from Poet's Weekly:
https://www.pw.org/grants

A blog about fake contests
https://writerbeware.blog/2019/04/26/awards-profiteers-how-writers-can-recognize-them-and-why-they-should-avoid-them/

​A watchdog list of contests: https://selfpublishingadvice.org/author-awards-contests-rated-reviewed/

The website for Writer's Digest's contest
https://www.writersdigest.com/writers-digest-competitions/self-published-book-awards

My BookLife Contest Critic's Report around here
​https://booklife.com/prize/9/category/11/1

I'd been working on novel #2 for most of the summer, Irish-fading from regatta parties to get to my portable writing study, listening distractedly to friends while thinking about that story,  welcoming rainy days for the chance to sidle past regret as I put my head down and set my fingertips to the keyboard.

Stealing time from real life. 

The book is past Draft 1, which means I kinda know how the story starts, goes, finishes. I know the theme and the setting, and I've gotten to know the characters.  It's all flexible: characters might get cut or split into two people, events might change order or get worse, and so on, but I have the general shape.  

​Draft 2 should be hugely better, with plot holes filled in, structure revised, themes bolstered, and characters grown rounder.  ​I tend to underwrite sections as the plot takes me, and overwrite scenes that I have known for a while. But it's not always easy to get there.

To a great extent, writing equals me daydreaming about my imaginary friends. So late this summer, I sat on station, butt in chair, hands poised over the keyboard, imagination flapping around the story when it occurred to me, obvious as a brick to the back of the head: the friendship between the two young women in my story was big and important, but it got very little screen time in the story as written.  

Aha, I thought, how can I show the depth and importance of this connection? More scenes? More conversations!  More!  
 
My characters—then called Annie and Lila—were already sitting together and chatting while sewing in chapter 5; I sat back and eveasdropped, knowing that they are best friends. Lila's nursing a crush on one of Annie's brothers. Annie's beloved has disappeared. The chatter goes back and forth, with Lila eventually crossing a boundary to ask a painful question of her old friend. 

I jotted down their conversation as I imagined it, not judging when they nattered on, knowing I—mighty queen of this universe—could take a nip and tuck at will later.

Here's some of what I kept pressing them/myself to know: How to express the tenderness between best friends? How to show that they've been friends for ages? I knew what Lila was jonesing to ask Annie, but how to show Annie's feelings, the pressure she feels, and and how to present this all without sounding 21st Century-ish?

As I wrote "Annie said," "Lila said." "Annie replied," and so forth, I realized two things: first, Annie is far too modern a name for my maiden hero and second, the names Annie and Lila are not nearly distinct enough from one another. These are my own dear creations, and I'm getting them confused? That cannot be good.

It's quick work to do a global change, but to what? O high-speed internet on the farm, how we do thee entreat? Clicketty-clatter ensues.

A morning passed as I stopped by baby name sites, checked etymology, and consulted the mighty Goog.

Annie has become Auda, a name with a Scandinavian twist, as befits the setting, and Lila has become Lilan, a name that appears in a variety of cultures and calls to (my) mind the flower. These names, I hope, make sense in the vaguely Northern, pre-Industrial, magic-exists, wool-processing, flax spinning, small village setting. I like to think these names give them a bit of depth and roundness.  

And to my shortcut-favoring brain at least, the names appear different enough on the page to keep me from confabulating the two.

​Victory is mine! 

​One scene down, half a dozen more to go.