Was going to post this on Substack, but they don't let you indent blocks of text.
Today’s insanely long installment concerns a major prize which I was told I’d won back in February, but for which I turned out not to be eligible because unable to promote the prize to their satisfaction. I have held off posting this, since the prize was to be confidential until its announcement on April 8.
On February 10 I went to Amsterdam to stay in an apartment a reader had very kindly offered me. I was in a bad way after the publication of Your Name Here; had hoped to be very quiet, to write and clear the head. The wifi had been disconnected, but this seemed like a good thing, conducive to work.
On February 11 I got an email on my phone from my editor at New Directions, who said I must not ignore an email from Michael Kelleher. Barbara has my gmail address; the general public has access to a gmx address which doesn’t show up on the phone, requires opening the browser. Checked, saw email asking me to call him.
We talked on the 12th. He told me I had won a Windham-Campbell Prize for fiction of $175,000.
For about 3 seconds I was thrilled: this would give me the chance to work on texts using Edward Tufte's information design without relying on a publisher for technical support, something I had failed to put in place in over 20 years.
I then learned that the award was contingent on extensive promotion of the prize. While I thought I could attend the 6-day festival at Yale in September, I was not in a state to drop everything to make an audio interview and promotional video and engage in phone discussions of the publicity process.
