Awaiting the Award

My novel Shall Never See So Much is up for an award. It is a finalist for a Readers Favorite award in the category of Historical Fiction. There will be four winners named: Gold, Silver, Bronze, and Honorable Mention. There are five books among the finalists. That's right - four awards, five nominees.

Naturally I think I'll win. My book could very well be one of the six or seven best novels ever written. Truthfully, writing's not my only incomparable skill. I can think on my feet and handle tough interview questions. Why, let somebody dare ask me about my definition of marriage. Too, I am graceful and poised when I strut about in evening wear. Perhaps even a little coquettish. And besides, I look way better in a bathing suit than the other authors. And I can sing, too. Still. But the rumors about the sex tapes? Not a shred of truth.

Not to be boastful, but my book is a lock. When the four names are called, one will still be standing there, looking down sheepishly and trying valiantly to act like losing is no big deal. It ain't gonna be me, folks. I'll be standing there in my speedo, holding high the Gold medal and singing "Love and Marriage" in a raw masculine display of good ole American winnership.

Winners will be announced on September 1st. I will post a later blog and let you know how I finished, unless of course I lose in which case I'll quietly slink into the woods to commune with nature.

Anyway, until then, we finalists will wait in our evening gowns with our bouquets in our arms, smiling radiantly, and wait for the winners to be announced.

While I'm completely confident of victory, I do have to confess that the thought of losing, of standing there all alone and forcing a smile through the tears, does affect my ability to think and type and xmemdnrishaklcnjskanddnsbakdnfgbkssbnd