Frequently Asked Questions
Now that the contest is in its second year, here are some questions that folk have asked me. The irreverence of my replies should not be interpreted as frivolity. Creative writing is a game.
Of course, some games such as careers, egos and mortgages can be very serious indeed. But the game of writing, at least, should be fun!
No apology is therefore given for the playful tenor of this site...
1. What are my chances of winning?
A lot better than having your work accepted by a literary agent! A top agent told me recently that he receives about 10,000 submissions a year and he takes on only 5 or 6 new authors annually. So your chances, with him, are just 0.05%. True, there are many other agents who might review your work, which reduces the odds. But the odds are still appalling.
The good news is... some 90% of those submissions are unpublishable by anybody, he said. Their authors had clearly never read a book on creative writing, joined a course or even, in some cases, learned to spell. So if you’re a competent writer (and of course you are!), your chances at his agency increase to about 1000 to 5 or 0.5%. Those are still awful odds, but a lot better.
Your chances of winning a prize in this contest are considerably higher than that! I expect entries in this new round to be still in the low hundreds. (It took 25 years before the prestigious Lorian Hemingway Short Story Competition in the US exceeded 1000 entries.)
So if you’re a very competent writer, the odds of your winning the top prize are favourable indeed.
2. Money aside, how valuable (truly) could it be for me to win this award or be shortlisted?
Several agents and publishers over the years have told me that they judge a submission initially on the covering letter alone. If that does not immediately impress them, the whole submission is dumped in the Reject pile unread. Tragic but true.
One way to persuade them to read a little more (along with the immaculate syntax and spelling of your letter, of course) is to cite literary awards and competitions you have won. To be able to say ‘I won [or was shortlisted in] the Writers’ Village Best Writing Award' does no harm at all.
"One of the ways that you reach readers is via prizes. Foreign publishers take these London prizes very seriously," said Colm Tólbin, author of Brooklyn, quoted in The Times, January 5, 2010.
Besides, there’s a great thrill in seeing your work permanently showcased online and knowing it will be read by thousands. And there’s nothing to stop you selling or further submitting the work elsewhere ;).
3. Mr Yeoman, how do I know you won’t take my £5 and at once abscond to the Maldives, giggling, with a Vuitton suitcase full of entrants’ money and a lady of easy virtue?
Um, that is a very good question. Except... have you considered how many entries I would have to receive at £5 each even to buy a Vuitton suitcase, let alone afford the aforesaid lady?
(Moreover, my wife would never countenance it. Nor could I ever leave Mycroft, my wise tortoise.)
To set your mind at rest, my bankers are the HSBC, 30 George St., Luton LU1 2AP. My accountants for 32 years have been Foxley Kingham, 46-48 Rothesay Road, Luton LU1 1QZ. And my inside leg measurement is 29½ inches. (No, I’m sure you didn’t need that.)
4. Is the Writers’ Village just you, your patient wife Celia, and your wise tortoise Mycroft?
Yep. (Or, as we English gentlemen say, ‘verily’.) As of this moment, we’re a one man, one woman, one chelonian band. Of course, I devoutly hope that more folk will soon get involved in the group’s activities. (I dream of being able to announce Writers’ Village workshops, retreats, courses and conferences before long. Perhaps even in the Maldives. That’s what comes of spending too many years as a business trainer and university lecturer.)
5. Why are you doing it, at an age when most retirees are content to clip coupons and play bridge?
For the sheer buzz of the thing. And to correspond with fellow writers, and to read their work. And, perhaps (a big perhaps), to earn a little beer money.
After all, what else does a compulsive writer do at night, after polishing the printer’s proofs of his latest work of humour The Village Idiot’s Guide to Creative Writing? He has fun. Or he tries to.
Why not join me in the fun?
To return to How to Enter the Contest, click here
