WHILE I spend most evenings pretending to understand how hard my wife works – she’s an English teacher – once a year I get to actually experience it.
Anyone who has a family member or close friend who works in secondary education will know that it’s not the difficult pupils (or even the difficult parents) which make it such a tough profession – it’s the marking.
They spend hours of their time reading essays, judging their pupils’ work, referring to mark schemes and making sure their charges are improving and achieving the right grades – often working late into the evening or on weekends. And every 12 months, I get the smallest glimpse of the pressures of ‘marking’.
This is the third year that I have had the privilege of being a judge on the JEP Rathbones Writing Competition, which is run in partnership with the Jersey Festival of Words.
Several months after the contest is launched and the day after the final deadline, a huge bundle of paper is plonked on my desk by Corinne, the hugely organised editor’s PA who has the unenviable task of collating all the entries, removing the names for anonymity and printing them off. (As well as answering by email the same questions, again and again, from entrants who seem determined not to read the rules!)
I always leave the bundle sitting there for a few hours, an ominous mountain of words penned by passionate Islanders who were brave enough to submit their work for judgment.
It is hard not to marvel at the hours of toil that must have gone into them. I imagine the various writers and who they might be – the tired mother snatching half an hour to write while the baby’s asleep, a widower working quietly and alone at his desk, a student writing feverishly in his notepad while he’s supposed to be concentrating in his maths class.
When you start reading through the huge pile, your main aim is to be fair and patient to all of the writers – you read every word carefully and have an open mind, making notes in the margins. But, personally, I’m just desperate to come across a story that grabs me round the throat and says ‘Read me. Read every last word’ and when you finally come across one, it is so satisfying that you want to punch the air in delight.
Of course, the neat bundle of stories soon ends up in a huge mess, papers scattered everywhere, as you make shortlists of shortlists, piles of ‘possible winners’, and then spend ten minutes trying to find the one you read yesterday that made you smile. Luckily, each entry is stapled and given a unique code by the ever-efficient Corinne, so there is no chance of anything being mislaid or lost, no matter how late the hour this judge finds himself reading the entries. All of you who entered owe Corinne a ‘thank you’ – without her we’d probably have to pick random winners out of a hat, so disorganised would things be…
Once the five judges have made their own shortlists, we meet for a few hours to drink coffee, compare notes and talk about the submissions that made us joyful because of their originality and our despair at those who had let themselves down by failing to check grammar, spelling and punctuation. This is a serious point – every year, there seems to be at least one talented writer who misses out on a prize because they have not taken enough care over the mechanics of their work. I implore anyone who is thinking of entering next year – check your work several times and ask someone else to read it through, too.
I understand not everyone has the luxury of sub-editors to save them from themselves (last week I had an error in the first three words of this column before a sub got hold of it) but the value of a second pair of eyes on your work can never be underestimated.
What is always interesting is that the judges never agree from the outset. While our shortlists are around 75% the same, there are always a few stories that some of us may have overlooked or not appreciated, and it takes one judge to point out its merits and persuade us of its values. There was at least one firm winner this year which was not originally shortlisted by three judges – but after a second reading it was unanimously and deservedly declared the best story. It makes you realise how we all read stories with different expectations and criteria, how sometimes you need someone else to point out something’s value.
Usually the entries that stand out the most are those which are original and memorable. Those of us who have been judges for the last three years can still remember some stories from previous competitions, including characters’ names and even direct quotes, which aptly demonstrates the power of writing something a bit different, something fresh, bold and unusual.
Once again, we were impressed with the overall quality and quantity of the entries (and I’m not just saying that) and I’m delighted that this competition obviously resonates with so many amateur writers in Jersey. It is a privilege to be a judge and I hope to reprise the role again next year. Get writing, people…
lAll of our winners, runners-up and third-placers have now been informed of their success and have been invited to a prizegiving ceremony at the Arts Centre next Saturday, an event held as part of the Jersey Festival of Words.
