"You won."

“You won,” said the woman’s voice on the other end of the line.
“I won,” I said in a tone of voice that must have conveyed my skepticism.
“You won,” she said again. I could hear the smile in her voice.
“I won?”
“That’s right.”
“You mean I won!?”

It must have sounded like a comedy act.

I’m not clear on exactly what was said after that. I was the eighteenth recipient of the James Jones First Novel Fellowship. Nina Solomon, the bearer of the great news, was one of the judges who had read my submission. Between hyperventilating and rubbing the gooseflesh that chilled my skin, I think I remembered to say thank you to this lovely woman.

I had entered the writing competition in previous years but had never made it to the second level of judging. The submissions process is to send the first fifty pages of a first novel-in-progress. Judging is blind; the identity of the author is nowhere on the manuscript. If a manuscript is chosen to go to the second round, the author is to send in fifty more pages. When I received the email requesting the additional fifty pages, I was thrilled. I had never made it this far. In fact, I almost didn’t enter again this year, but I decided to go for it one more time and made the March 1 deadline. I believe I had to send a two-page synopsis. If the judges read mine, apparently they didn’t hold it against me.

From the website: “The award is intended to honor the spirit of unblinking honesty, determination, and insight into modern culture exemplified by the late James Jones, author of From Here to Eternity and other prose narratives of distinction. Jones himself was the recipient of aid from many supporters as a young writer and his family, friends, and admirers have established this award of $10,000 to continue the tradition in his name. Two runner up awards of $750 each will also be given by the Jones Literary Society.

The judges: Kaylie Jones, his daughter and a novelist; J. Michael Lennon, one of his biographers; and Dr. Bonnie Culver, Director of Master of Arts in Creative Writing at Wilkes University, Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania.”

Soon I was contacted by Bonnie Culver, who filled in the details of the upcoming symposium and awards ceremony. My presence was mandatory—as if I had any intention of not showing up! Bonnie put me in touch with last year’s winner, Margarite Landry, who would also be present. (The symposium is biennial, so there was no symposium last year. She received her check, though.) Margarite and I emailed a lot, and I was happy to have a partner in nervousness and also find a new friend. We would both be reading from our manuscripts. Fortunately, our nice, calm husbands would be accompanying us.

I was even interviewed for a press release!

The James Jones Literary Society Symposium was held on November 6-7, 2009 at Eastern Illinois University, in Charleston, Illinois, in the beautiful Doudna Fine Arts Center. There I met Kaylie Jones, whose funny, tragic, and brilliant new memoir Lies My Mother Never Told Me was just released. Kaylie is beyond wonderful. In fact, everyone we met—members and officers of the Society—were warm and genuinely delighted for us.

This year’s symposium theme was Memories of War. On Friday night, Tim O’Brien packed the Black Box Theater and spoke for an hour and a half. His book The Things They Carried should be required reading. On Saturday were presentations (including Margarite’s and mine), and panel discussions, some with student presenters. Saturday night was a celebratory dinner.

Now that my feet have finally touched the ground, I want to say publically how honored and grateful I am to have been awarded this Fellowship. The James Jones Literary Society not only supports its Fellowship recipients with money, but with the kind of recognition that makes me determined to become a better writer.




The establishment of a James Jones endowed Chair in World War II Studies in English and History was initiated in 2007 as a collaborative effort of the James Jones Literary Society, the College of Arts and Humanities, and the Departments of English and History at Eastern Illinois University.

Love like a Grandmother

Steve Parrish's post today inspired me to write my first actual post in (cough) almost nine months. Steve talks about the immortality of fictional characters he has loved, that those characters are still alive even if they were killed off. All you have to do is open the book again.

I am hard pressed to remember exactly which character first made me fall in love with reading. It might have been Edmond Rostand’s witty CYRANO DE BERGERAC, which I read in high school. Oh, to be able to joust with words like that!

More likely it was Sara Crewe in A LITTLE PRINCESS, a book I read when I was eight or nine, I don’t remember. I do remember that my bedroom was being painted that week, and that white canvasses were spread over all the furniture except for my bed. The tent-like effect was straight out of Scheherazade. This must have been close to Christmas, because my grandmother was staying with us. I remember eating the chocolate turtles I’d given her as a gift. She loved chocolate turtles, but she loved me enough to let me have them. It was heaven to have that wonderful book to consume while devouring my grandmother’s candy.

My grandmother’s name was Gladys, but we called her Gladdy. Gladdy was a storyteller in the oral tradition. The summer I was six, my parents were doing some major construction on the house. (My mother was fond of remodeling.) I was sent to stay with Gladdy at her house in California. She was a widow, and it was just the two of us. She seemed ancient, but she was probably only in her sixties. Gladdy was accustomed to taking a nap in the afternoon. She would lie on her bed and close her eyes. I would wiggle around and try to “be still” as she requested. “Tell me a story,” I would beg. She made up tales about the little seed people who lived in a watermelon, and about a misunderstood giant who loved to cook mashed potatoes and green gravy. Greeen graaavy... Her voice would fade as she dozed off just at the good part. Stay tuned for tomorrow’s episode.

Undoubtedly Gladdy’s storytelling ability inspired me to become a writer. But her real gift was her patient, unconditional love, the kind that makes a little girl feel like a little princess.

Wisdom

What is wisdom?

According to Miriam Webster Online, it is:

a) accumulated philosophic or scientific learning

b) ability to discern inner qualities and relationships

c) good sense

d) generally accepted belief

According to some very wise people, it is so much more