Monday, October 7, 2013

Giller Angst

Hello All,

A few people have asked me how I feel about the Giller longlisting on this, the day before the penultimate announcement. I've told them this: Nobody cares about awards ... until they're nominated for one. It was lovely to even get longlisted. I'm quite honestly not expecting anything more. 

Some people have said: Yeah, but it's decent odds. 5 out of 13 books. That's like a 50-50 shot, practically!

Which isn't even mathematically correct, although I appreciate the desire to stretch the odds in my favor. Truth is, as I'm sure everyone knows, it's not 13 ping-pong balls in a hopper and the first five drawn move on. There are books on the list that have a better chance and books that have a lesser chance. Some of that is based on the judges' likes and dislikes in terms of their reading; and there are likely other factors at play that we can only guess at (so why would we bother?).

Simply stated, each book is not equal. Some books have a better shot than others. Which is fair and fine.

Sadly, a few weeks ago, I found myself falling into the mindset I used to have back in grade 8, trying to guess who the basketball coach would pick for the team after tryouts.

Well, Greg Billington is the best player in school so he's on for sure. And Theo Phelps and I play the same position, but Theo's better so he'll make it before me. And the coach bought his car from the dealership that Earl Braggs' dad owns, so maybe he's go an inside track. And the other day the coach caught me picking my nose behind the utility shed, and probably thought it was pretty gross, so he may just cut me on those grounds alone ...

On and on it went. Drawing up a list and trying to figure out where you stood on it, and why, and intuit the reasoning that the coach might use to take player X and cut player Y. It was exhausting, and it was nothing that nourished the soul. Plus, as an adult it's kinda foolish. So I stopped all that.

At this point I'm just going to wake up tomorrow, get my son dressed, take him to playgroup or for a long walk and let him go down the playground slide as much as he wants, romp in the fallen leaves, then mosey on home and by that point it'll be decided. From there I'll just deal with it and get down to writing whatever's next.

UPDATE: Well, holy sheepshit ... 

All best, Craig.

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