The other foot is now shod...

As you might remember from my post a few weeks ago, I'm a judge for the fiction category of this year's Wordfest at Valpo. This is the second year I've done it, and it's so much fun. However, even I am aware of the irony in this sudden reversal of roles for me. How often have I been the one sending my best effort off in an envelope with one last longing look and a prayer? In this case, I'm the one receiving everyone else's best efforts. So, I want to document the experience (though, not the results, of course) because I want to remember what it feels like the next time I'm cursing under my breath at getting another rejection letter from a faceless agent or editor. They had their reasons, I'm sure, just as I have mine.

The envelopes, plural this year, arrive in our mailbox, thick with entries and promise. I'm excited to see them, eager to begin reading. My heart jumps a little just at finding they've arrived. So many possibilities, so many chances to experience amazing new writing and amazing new writers.

I tear open the envelopes and start flipping through the entries. I will read them all, but I put them in the order in which they catch my attention. It occurs to me that this is probably what agents and editors do as well--that's why it's so important to have a hook in your opening sentence, both in the manuscript and your query letter.

I start reading, marveling at the descriptions and the turns of phrase. So clever, so observant. I hope someone reads my stuff and thinks this same thing sometimes. I'm so impressed by this crop of new writers.

As I make my way through the pile, marking each one in the corner with a dot so I know for certain that I've read the entry, I realize some entries are easier to read than others. Not because of content, though, if honest, we'll all admit that some stories will call more strongly to us than others. But because of little things, proper page set-up (double-spaced and one-sided), correct formatting for dialogue (quotation marks with a comma or period inside of them at the end of the statement), and a normal font size (nothing smaller than 11, I'd guess). I don't knock off "points" or anything because of improper formatting. I judge on the story alone. If it moves me in someway, if I can picture the places and the people contained within, if I know that the story, images or characters will stay with me after I've read other stories. But I notice the formatting and realize that this is probably why all the articles and books exist on formatting your manuscript. Agents and editors are busy. If your manuscript or query letter looks hard to read as it crosses their desk, they probably won't even try. My first query letter was one page, almost entirely solid type. Yeah, I think I know why I garned a bunch of rejections on that one.

I narrow down the entries, rereading the ones that I've decided against to make sure my choice wasn't due to distraction or misunderstanding of the larger concept. This is the hard part. I know that every story here belongs to a writer out there. I'm one of those writers, in the larger sense, so I try to make sure I know why I'm chosing what I've chosen. Still, there will be people upset and disappointed. The most difficult thing is that none of the stories are bad. Every single one of them holds promise because of the effort put into to writing it down. But I know that the writers whose stories aren't chosen won't see it that way. I wouldn't. I'd see it as rejection. From this side of things, I can see why it just isn't so. Your story isn't bad. It just doesn't resonate with me. How often have I heard that?

I manage to get it down to seven entries. Always seven. I can only have six with First, Second and Third place and three honorable mentions. One will have to be left out. This kills me because in this situation, it's not about one being better than another. They're all good.

I haven't made my final decision yet. I'm going to have to sleep on it and re-read them all one more time. All I can say is this experience gives me new respect for the agents and editors who make these choices everyday.