Book report: lessons from judging a lit award

Covers, publishers, and getting down to DNF

Literary awards season is either under way or already over, I’m not sure which. Regardless, I had the chance to be a panelist for a literary award this year. (I’m keeping the specifics private.) While I read the entries and participated in the judging process, I made video diaries for myself. Here, I’ve compiled some observations about my experience both in judging and just in reading so many novels all at once. So, here are some lessons: some on storytelling, some on story judging.

Lesson 1: sometimes you can judge a book by its cover.

Before I read any of the books, I recorded myself reacting to the covers, to see how my thoughts held up to the quality of the contents. 

me reacting to a (skillfully blurred out) cover I loved

I was definitely spot on for some of them. My two favorite covers were both in my top five reads. One design captured the setting well, which was a really strong feature of the book. The other design was playful and funny; this ended up matching the author’s voice. Both of them had cover copy that was (1) really interesting to me, and (2) a fair description of the story inside.

There were also times my prediction held true to sadder results: some had underwhelming design, title, and copy, and, unfortunately, underwhelming content inside. When it comes to the copy in particular, this is a spot where issues in content might be flagged. If you’re writing a story and you struggle to imagine that back-of-the-book paragraph that will make people choose your book over so many others, yeah, it might just mean you don’t know how to write copy, but it might mean you’ve got an issue with stakes. (More on stakes below.)

And in camp three we have all the times I was wrong: a cover excited me and the story inside disappointed (a true tragedy). The best was when I felt blah about a cover–I never would have picked this book up in a bookstore to see what it was about–and the story swept me away. I’ll talk more about my observations with the actual storytelling content below; as for those books where the cover didn’t do justice, sometimes I couldn’t put my finger on what I didn’t love. With covers, I think it’s super subjective and hard to name: it either grabs you or it doesn’t. Maybe it’s about bold colors, or high contrast, or a confident design. (As the author, you may not even have much control over the cover.)

Lesson two: the rubric, or, what makes a book award-worthy?

Before I started reading anything, I reviewed the judging rubric a couple times to make sure I had a sense of what the organization was looking for in a story, and what they seemed not to be looking for. Put into broad terms, I was meant to be looking for strong writing, well-drawn characters, and an immersive reading experience. To the extent I could discern an objective on the part of the author (teach the reader something important; fire the reader up about an issue) did I feel it had been effective? Where does this book sit with all the other books in the world? Does it deserve a little star by its name: I’m special!  

We didn’t need to fill out the whole rubric for every single book, but we did need to complete it for a personal longlist of finalists, and then narrow that to the shortlist of finalists and a winner. 

Lesson 3: reasonable people may differ.

My top read wasn’t our winner! (My second-favorite was.)

I read pretty broadly but tend to skew a little literary in terms of what I like. I enjoy books that feel more commercial from time to time, but I seem to best enjoy books with other layers going on, even if the story’s action moves slower because of it. This is not how everyone approaches a book that’s meant to dissect crime or an apparent mystery, and so our scores were different on many of the books. Luckily, we had some strong books in common and had a lot of fun discussing the ones we didn’t agree on.

Lesson 4(a): I am actually capable of DNF’ing books.

Historically, I find it really painful to stop reading a book before it’s over. (In the reading community, “DNF” is slang for “Did Not Finish.”) Being bad at DNFing books seems to be a common but not universal experience. Judging this award forced me to get over it.

There were a lot of books to read and not a ton of time to do it in. There was simply no way to read them all in full, and no expectation that I would do so when it was clear, in my opinion, that a book wasn’t a serious contender.

I started off, maybe strangely but I thought brilliantly, by reading the openings of a number of books until one really grabbed me, and then I just sat and read that whole book. Then I did that again. Once I had a couple reads under my belt, I started allowing myself to DNF books.

I always gave a book a minimum of three chapters (not including the prologue; saw quite a few of those). Some books got more than three before I started the music and ushered them offstage. There was one book where I was somewhere over the halfway mark before I finally put it down. (My video diaries on this book are funny–I could tell from early on that it really just didn’t seem like it was a contender for the award, but I was curious to see how the mystery resolved. When I realized how much time I’d spent reading it and how many books I had left, I finally put it aside.)

And 4(b): when to DNF

What made me DNF a book? This wasn’t personal reading for pleasure but for an award, and so it really came down to the rubric.

Usually it was writing quality: the writing itself just really didn’t compare to the books that were working their way to the top of my list. The way sentences and whole scenes were put together. Some of the authors wrote in a way that left me re-reading sentences; others wrote so sparsely that it felt like I was reading something kind of joyless.

There were also books that really sagged in terms of storytelling. Something was off in the tension, suspense, stakes, urgency. Urgency was a word I kept coming back to as I analyzed the books that didn’t make it to the top of the list. Scenes that meandered without clear purpose. Plot points that should have been an emergency but were somehow boring. Characters who didn’t have a good reason to care about what was happening, and that translated to me not caring. One version of this was “investigators” who didn’t really make sense as investigators. Sometimes an amateur sleuth is a delight; sometimes I can’t stop asking “but why does this person care?” I’m all good with suspending some disbelief when you sweep me away, but when the tension lags I’m left with brain space to ask myself questions that ruin the reading experience.

Another preventable issue I saw was authors who’d gotten too attached to the procedural research they’d done about how an investigation would play out, and the investigatory scenes were so frequent and detailed that they sapped the urgency of the crime being investigated.

And 4(c): no one kicks down your door when you DNF

I think one fear in DNFing books is that it’s somehow disrespectful, sacrilege! But that can’t compete with time constraints of real life, so I had to move past it. Another worry is FOMO, or fear of missing out on something great. But it turns out, you can always go back to a book you thought you were done with.

I DNF’d a book maybe seven chapters in because of some of these issues in the paragraphs above. The main character felt too tangential to the real plot of the book, and the writing felt a little like it was just going through the motions. I thought I was done with it, then learned it was one of my co-panelist’s top reads. I went back and finished it so we could discuss. Maybe two chapters after where I’d stopped, there was a really great scene–beautiful writing of the setting and the characters–and by the end of that scene, the main character started to make sense. I ended up loving the book and the character; I think this author just needed to dig in on some early chapters and give us a better sense of who the character really was, rather than burying it for so many pages.¹ I’m glad I went back to the book and finished it, but I also don’t blame myself for putting it down.

If you’ve been fighting the DNF lifestyle, I encourage you to try. Life’s too short.

Lesson 5: you can’t judge a book by its publisher.

One of my favorite books was completely self-published, as far as I can tell. Some of the books I DNF’d by chapter three were from big-pub.  

What’s the lesson here? For a reader, if you like the sound of a book, just go for it, even if it’s self-pubbed. The days of snobbery are over. Sometimes there will be quality issues (I assure you, those self-pubbed books are still out there), but plenty of people are publishing interesting, entertaining, well-edited books themselves. So if you love the cover, love the copy, love the first pages, whatever, just go for it! (You might not even notice the book in your hands is self-published.)

For the writer who doesn’t want to be self-published, maybe the lesson is that you can’t definitively equate big pub with tons of developmental editing resources. (Sometimes you can; I’m with two imprints at Penguin Random House–US & UK–and they invested a ton of time and brainpower into editing my book.) There were some excellent books in the bunch by indie publishers. Probably the best thing to do is feel out your own editor when the time comes to sign a deal. 

And if you want to self publish? Get that thing edited, and then maybe get it edited again. (Because over my years I’ve seen a lot of self-published books, and on the whole there is often a gap in quality. But that doesn’t mean it has to be that way.)

Lesson 6: minority representation runs the gamut

In terms of characters, minority representation in this particular contest ran the gamut but was overall thin. I saw books where almost everyone seemed to be white, straight, cisgendered, and able bodied. And then I saw books with more realistic, diverse casts of characters. Within those books, I saw minority characters who seemed like real people and others who felt pretty two-dimensional. Even in books that I thought were overall very well done, I saw choices I wouldn’t have made as the author, and I grappled with what that meant in the context of judging a literary award. The rubric had some clear language that was helpful; it’s just that my overall pool of books (which was not controlled by the organization) was simply a little disappointing in this regard.

When I try to distill this part of my reading experience into a lesson, I really struggle with what “the lesson” is. I think maybe there are multiple. As a starting place, in terms of the award, the organization gave specific guidance around considering issues of cultural appropriation, responsibility, sensitivity, and due diligence, which was helpful to me as a panelist analyzing others’ books. Readers and writers could consider these general considerations a starting place to analyzing other books.

My cursory review of author photos revealed mostly white authors; we seem to remain in a place where writers of color aren’t getting published with the same ease as white authors. My understanding of this problem is that it’s systemic and multifaceted, but even a single person can make a difference in terms of what books she buys or borrows, reviews, and recommends, and making a concerted effort to support writers of color.

Another lesson, specifically for authors, is to pay attention to how you populate your books and how you portray your characters. And when you write a character whose lived experience is quite different from your own, hire a sensitivity reader. (Your publisher may even do this for you, especially if you ask.)

Lesson 7: some of the rules around dialogue really do matter

I really love good dialogue, both in writing and in movies and television. Reading so many books in such a short period of time left me very aware of some petty but affecting pet peeves I have regarding dialogue.

I don’t know if it’s actually worse or if I’ve just been brainwashed to think it is, but I find it distracting when people chortle, bark, or guffaw instead of saying things. A really rare break from the say/said convention can be effective, but it loses its power when it’s more than just a handful of times…in the whole book. (Okay I have definitely been brainwashed. You can probably do it effectively more than a few times in the whole book.) But when I notice a whole page of dialogue where nobody says anything I can’t help but start hootin’ and hollerin’ myself.

Another dialogue pet peeve: I find it distracting when people phonetically write out accents. Dialect in general: great!² Accents specifically: please no! Just say she has a Boston accent, if you want me to know that detail about her. Don’t actually write “idear” or “cah” in her dialogue. 

Lesson 8: I am missing humor in my reading life.

One of the books I read just really tickled my funny bone, and reading it was a delightful experience. I think I need to give myself permission to read funny books way more often. Stories about crime can get so heavy. I think about the ethics of crime fiction a lot (I think about a lot of things a lot. Nothing I love more than just staring at a wall, trying to decide if I’m a terrible person for any given reason that day.) Many crime stories deserve gravity, sensitivity, compassion, thorough research, and more. But some crimes are funny. Let’s be real! I used to defend teenagers: sometimes, crime is hilarious. I want more laughs in my reading life.

Lesson 9, which is one we already knew: the best story is the one you’re willing to stay up late reading.

…At least when it comes to crime and suspense. There are definitely some books that deserve marination time between chapters (maybe especially short story collections) but when it comes to reading something about crime or otherwise designed to be suspenseful, it’s a good sign when I shrug off my usual bedtime to keep reading. All my top books had me hurrying into bed to read and snoozing my alarm in the morning.

These books had it all: characters I wanted to spend time with, happenings that felt urgent, questions that made me curious, and immersive settings. And, my very top reads had something to say, for want of a better descriptor. There was something emotional and thematic happening that resonated with me. The author was telling me something important.

Are you on team DNF or team DNDNF? Help me continue to strengthen my DNF skills by commenting what makes you move on from a book.

1. Brandon Taylor wrote a piece about writing a “boring” draft, where you say out loud, early on, all the character stuff you think you’re supposed to hide until later. See what happens when you put it out front, at the very beginning. I think this would have been a good exercise for this author.

the virtues of the boring draft

2. Dialect, from Merriam-Webster: a regional variety of language distinguished by features of vocabulary, grammar, and pronunciation from other regional varieties and constituting together with them a single language. For example, English is the language, Boston has its own dialect of English, and Bostonians have an accent.