The Awards No-Show.
So, I applied for Arts Council Funding...and I didn't get it. The first I knew of it was Saturday morning when half a dozen people I knew who did get it - look at the circles I move in - were all over social media bouncing up and down like attractive triplets who've just got their A level results.
I glowered at my letterbox; it looked distinctly mealy-mouthed. The mail is a bit hit and miss around here - it wouldn't be the first time a letter went astray.
And I got a letter this morning confirming that they are unable to offer me an award.
It's fine. I wasn't expecting anything. This was the first time I've ever applied for an Arts Council grant. Is it a grant? I should probably stick with their choice: "Award". Though it seems unnecessarily glitzy. Though I suppose this is an acceptance speech of sorts.
The Arts Council have sent along "Funding Review" forms but they are based on the notion that I think that their decision is wrong. There is talk of outside ombudsmen and the Chief Executive of The Council reviewing my "case". None of that is necessary. Like I say - this is the first time I've ever applied. I wasn't expecting to get it. A lot of the people I know who did get it are already published, or they have a publisher on side, at least. They work in the local community, or in the local arts sector. They are affiliated - they are known. Who am I? Some chancer who wants to finish his book.
What I'd really like is for some idea about how to fill the application forms successfully. That would be a real boon. I'd like to have some clue as to how I cocked it up. I like to think that I could make a decent fist of any kind of writing but application forms are a degree of sophistry too far for my narrow skill-set. I thought I could do it alone and I got burned. I'll take some proper advice next time.
This is the twentieth application I've made for something this year. It's the twentieth application that has failed. You've got to be in it to win it, they say. But you've also got to be in it to lose it. They never mention that. You'd think I'd take the hint. Give it up, Higgins - no one wants your meagre fare. Well I won't. I'm stubborn now. That comes with age: grey as a mule and as ornery. I'm also magnificently poor, so as long as I can afford to send e-mails its in my interest to keep doing so. And also, and lets not forget this fairly important thing, I'm actually good. My stuff is good. Its not a popular opinion - and its backed up by scanty evidence - but I'm sticking with it. I'll carry on writing my peculiar stuff until they wrestle the crayon from my cold, arthritic hand.
My novel is going to be fine. There's a story and everything! And the writing...really, really good. *
*There is nothing humble about my opinion. If there was I wouldn't still be writing, would I?
I glowered at my letterbox; it looked distinctly mealy-mouthed. The mail is a bit hit and miss around here - it wouldn't be the first time a letter went astray.
And I got a letter this morning confirming that they are unable to offer me an award.
It's fine. I wasn't expecting anything. This was the first time I've ever applied for an Arts Council grant. Is it a grant? I should probably stick with their choice: "Award". Though it seems unnecessarily glitzy. Though I suppose this is an acceptance speech of sorts.
The Arts Council have sent along "Funding Review" forms but they are based on the notion that I think that their decision is wrong. There is talk of outside ombudsmen and the Chief Executive of The Council reviewing my "case". None of that is necessary. Like I say - this is the first time I've ever applied. I wasn't expecting to get it. A lot of the people I know who did get it are already published, or they have a publisher on side, at least. They work in the local community, or in the local arts sector. They are affiliated - they are known. Who am I? Some chancer who wants to finish his book.
What I'd really like is for some idea about how to fill the application forms successfully. That would be a real boon. I'd like to have some clue as to how I cocked it up. I like to think that I could make a decent fist of any kind of writing but application forms are a degree of sophistry too far for my narrow skill-set. I thought I could do it alone and I got burned. I'll take some proper advice next time.
This is the twentieth application I've made for something this year. It's the twentieth application that has failed. You've got to be in it to win it, they say. But you've also got to be in it to lose it. They never mention that. You'd think I'd take the hint. Give it up, Higgins - no one wants your meagre fare. Well I won't. I'm stubborn now. That comes with age: grey as a mule and as ornery. I'm also magnificently poor, so as long as I can afford to send e-mails its in my interest to keep doing so. And also, and lets not forget this fairly important thing, I'm actually good. My stuff is good. Its not a popular opinion - and its backed up by scanty evidence - but I'm sticking with it. I'll carry on writing my peculiar stuff until they wrestle the crayon from my cold, arthritic hand.
My novel is going to be fine. There's a story and everything! And the writing...really, really good. *
*There is nothing humble about my opinion. If there was I wouldn't still be writing, would I?
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