My debut novel, Never Coming Home, has won an award or two, and been nominated for a few more - but I was only able to be there for the opening of one of the envelopes - for the others, a rather large expanse of water separated me from the proceedings. Which is a pity, as it would have been a wonderful experience. Getting the e-mail to tell you about the win is good, but not as good as the real thing. What does it mean to get an award? Honour, validation, the knowledge that readers have liked your book enough to vote it into first place. It's a fabulous feeling, and a big thank you has to go to all the organisers of all the contests who put so much work into making that happen.
I wasn't able to be there for the presentation ceremonies in the United States, but the arrival of the trophies was a great day. And to celebrate that, the Cardiff mini chapter of the Romantic Novelists' Association - all three of us - had lunch. I wasn't there when the envelope was opened, but the event was still commemorated. And yes, we did drink something sparkly ...
|Vanessa, Lorraine and me, a bottle of bubbly and a trophy or two|