What I learned from not winning a Writer’s Digest contest (circa 2016)

Sometimes you share the pain; sometimes you don’t. I’m sharing it because (who knows) it may help somebody, somewhere, somehow.

Here’s the bottom line: I was not selected as a winner in the “3rd annual Writer’s Digest Self-Published eBook Awards” contest — though I do not consider myself a loser. Why? Because I gave it a shot. And learned a bunch.

First, some background.

Way back when (1967–71), I served in the world’s largest and cleanest nuclear Navy: Four days short of four years. I hated it most of the time, but ultimately realized it was a positive experience. For one thing, I grew up — and, at the time, I had a lot of growing up to do. For another, I met some of the finest people on God’s green earth — as well as some of the worst. Finally, and most important, the funniest stories I’ve ever told were based on what happened to me in the USN. Beyond that, I was able to go back to school on the G.I. Bill and get my degrees (Mass Comm and Poli-Sci).

Just an FYI: My Navy stories were not knee-slap, guffaw funny. They were modestly humorous, occasionally poignant, once-in-a-while sad. A friend of mine, Sam Harris, said I should write down these tiny tales. He pestered me for years. (“Thanks,” Sam.)

When I retired, I bought a thick notebook and began jotting down bits and pieces of what I could remember. (It was like re-creating a puzzle from memory. Not an easy task.) Eventually I filled up the notebook, transcribed the notes and printed them out. Then I scribbled on the printout, deciding which items could be turned into stories and which could not.

That’s when the writing began.

With the help of my son Jesse (“The Lawyer”) I published “Orange Socks & Other Colorful Tales” as an eBook ... on April 1, 2015. (No accident, that date.) The book sold moderately well. Covered its cost. Brought me a little notoriety, a few interviews and enabled me to add the word “author” to my bio.

(Later) I submitted “Orange Socks” as an entry in a contest: “Third annual Writer’s Digest Self-Published eBook Awards.” It did not win — but I did get a personal evaluation, which I’m sharing.

Here are some highlights, based on WD’s 1–5 scale:

Structure, Organization, and Pacing: 3

Spelling, Punctuation, and Grammar: 5

Production Quality and Cover Design: 4

Plot and Story Appeal: 3

Character Appeal and Development: 4

Voice and Writing Style: 4

I’m most pleased with the 5 out of 5 in the “Spelling, Punctuation, and Grammar” category. As a former newspaper copy desk editor, I could accept no less. (In the interest of transparency, I did have several journalist friends read the manuscript. Then I paid a professional copy editor to give it a final look-see.)

Scoring a 4 on “Production Quality and Cover Design” was a thrill. My son did the formatting; I personally designed the cover.

(See why, here: https://jimlamb-18748.medium.com/why-i-designed-my-own-book-cover-bfcf1238f738#.tg4dhx83q)

Scoring just 3s on “Structure, Organization, and Pacing” and “Plot and Story Appeal” was deserved. When I finished “Orange Socks,” it was more a compilation than a true memoir. I slapped on a prologue and an epilogue after the fact, and I’m sure it read that way. Kudos to Judge #82 for his/her insightful assessment.

Getting a 4 both in “Character Appeal and Development” and “Voice and Writing Style” was, for me, a big deal. Why? It gets to the nub of what we scribes do: Put words on paper.

Here’s what Judge #82 said:

“The writing is smooth and interesting. It’s like listening to the boy next door, with a dash of humor. Great for this genre.”

That’s about it. Hope ya’ll found this useful. I’ll close by paraphrasing Matthew McConaughey:

“All write, all write, all write.”

Jim Lamb is a retired journalist and author of “Orange Socks & Other Colorful Tales,” the story of how he survived Vietnam and kept his sense of humor. Sometimes he tells people he was “The Fifth Beatle.” For more about Jim and his writing, visit www.jslstories.com.

You are who you are for a reason.

You’re part of an intricate plan.

You’re a precious and perfect unique design,

Called God’s special woman or man.

You look like you look for a reason.

Our God made no mistake.

He knit you together within the womb,

You’re just what He wanted to make.

The parents you had were the ones He chose,

And no matter how you may feel,

They were custom-designed with God’s plan in mind,

And they bear the Master’s seal.

No, that trauma you faced was not easy.

And God wept that it hurt you so;

But it was allowed to shape your heart

So that into His likeness you’d grow.

You are who you are for a reason,

You’ve been formed by the Master’s rod.

You are who you are, Beloved,

Because there is a God!

**I am not an accident. With all the depression I've gone through lately I've been told by 2 different people on Twitter how my writing has touched their lives! God spoke through them to tell me.. I HAVE A PURPOSE FOR YOUR LIFE!

Amen!***

If Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel were alive today, most churches would not let them near the pulpit. 

Too negative. 

Too judgemental. 

Elijah would not even be allowed to enter the temple. 

Too much fire.

Amazing how yesterday when I was yours

I wasn't good enough to scrub your floors.

Now that I have so many fans,

You're trying to win back my hand?

I haven't changed. My pics are still amazing.

So what could possibly be better now

That would make you say "Wow"?

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

She needs to catch her breath ...

cries that scream from the grave

are seared into still moments.

loss, that not even full moons

can withstand, while muffled sounds

of pain meet her on her pillow

and dreams of arthritis bones hang

from dead hands. she wakes to the sun

starved and crushed cold into sand,

as ashes are scattered by her own fingers,

the others buried deep within the layers

where vultures circle,

awaiting the erosion of coffin and land.

You can't choose who you hurt in this world

But I've let this world hurt me.

I let Hazel Grace and Gus

See the faults in me.

I watched them grow and laughed with them

Then watched and cried with one.

I raged against the author's whims,

Against the methodical turning of the page

That took me closer to his ending.

I wished that the story continued on,

That Hazel had more to tell,

That Gus' letter was longer,

That these things didn't happen in real life.

But this is not a pipe.