Well, that went about as well as can be expected (although I did hope to make it past the first round of goddamn cuts … however, I’m learning from my experience on the judging panel for #SPSFC that even getting to the point where the judges will read your book is a bit of a struggle, and this is really pretty much exactly what I expected to happen).
Time to give up on depression- and anxiety- and impostor-syndrome-exacerbating fantasy contests until I can bring something more devastating (and ideally less wordy) to bear on the poor #SPFBO judges.
Should’ve listened to myself in April. I was pretty smart in April.
No but seriously, this was all I could have expected from a competition and at least it’s not dependent on clicks and votes and bullshit, it’s actual storytelling merit. I honestly can’t complain. At least someone read my words, and the finding was pretty much exactly what my Amazon reviews of pretty much all my books have led me to believe would be the case: half the readers were like “blargh, this is unintelligible gibberish, 2 stars!” and the other half were right.
I kid, I kid. Of course I’m disappointed, but enough with the stupid competition. In the meantime, I have science-fiction to read and review! Or I will soon, anyway. And this has given me a great insight into how to handle the inevitable fact that only three books can make it through to the semi-finals from each team. And only one book can win. And how to (and how not to) handle announcing the subsequent cuts.
No, I am not learning to be any more gracious with rejection, but on the other hand bite me.
Okay, see, maybe a little more graceful.
Look, the contest was over for me the second they didn’t pick Gabriel’s cover as the best one. That was objectively a mistake on their part and it completely undermines my respect for their opinions and in the process soothes the burn of their rejection.
I jest, but it is the thing I am closest to upset about in this whole huge waste of time and emotional capital. I already knew Bad Cow was going to be a tough sell.
So, *long wet sloppy fart* on that. Moving on.