Yesterday, I found out that A Nose for Death (Ginny Reese Mysteries Book 4) has been shortlisted for the Chanticleer International Book Awards in the Mystery and Mayhem division. This was completely unexpected. My experience has been that later books in a series tend not to do very well in awards contests because there is often too much backstory to be judged as a standalone. I entered mostly because I know these events are good at getting more eyes on a story, the better to increase visibility.

I almost didn’t post about it, because there are a lot of talented writers and terrific stories that got shortlisted as well, and the steps to climbing to semi-finalist, to finalist, and eventually to winner, are steep. No one remembers who won silver in the Olympics, right? Only gold.

As soon as that analogy came to me, it immediately brought back to me the events surrounding the 1994 Winter Games. I’ve always been a big fan of ice skating, though I haven’t followed it in recent years. At the time of the 1994 Games, however, the eyes of the world were on women’s figure skating, primarily because the assault of Nancy Kerrigan at the US Figure Skating Championship orchestrated by a group of conspirators connected with one of her main rivals, Tonya Harding. Kerrigan was bludgeoned above the knee with a police baton by Shane Standt. The goal of the attack was to prevent Kerrigan from competing in the National Championships, from which the top competitors would be chosen to go on it the Games.

Despite suffering what could have been a career ending injury, Kerrigan worked hard to make a comeback, and was granted an exemption to the Nationals in order to be on the US Ice Skating Team. She delivered some of her best lifetime performances but lost gold (in what was considered a controversial decision) to Oksana Baiul. Controversial because it was one of the closest calls in ice skating history, and because the judges defended their decision by citing Baiul’s program was skated with artistry, and Kerrigan’s with caution.

I watched those performances. I’m not a qualified judge by any means, but I would have to agree. Thirty-one years later, I can still remember Baiul’s winning skate. She skated with passion, precision, and grace, despite having suffered a collision with another skater in the warm-up arena and requiring Games-approved injections in her back and shoulder for pain. Kerrigan’s performance was elegant and controlled, and it simply fell short at that place and time.

What struck me the most afterward was how bitterly disappointed Kerrigan was about her second place win. I get that she came back from a terrible assault, overcoming her injury with a level of determination and fortitude I doubt I could ever muster. How disappointing it must have been to be that close to winning gold after all she’s been through, only to lose it to a sixteen-year-old at her first Olympic Games. But Kerrigan was caught on mike making a disparaging comment about Bauil’s emotional reaction to the win, and later again, was heard to seemingly belittle her arrangement with her Disney sponsor as being “cheesy.” The media, who’d championed her in the wake of her assault, suddenly turned on her in this apparent display of poor sportsmanship.

But I wonder if this isn’t more emblematic of the US view of competition. Winner takes all. No glory in anything but the gold. If you’re not the winner, you’re a loser. Maybe this is not a uniquely US perspective, but sometimes it certainly feels that way to me. 

It seems to me that if you only acknowledge the gold medals in your life, you are depriving yourself of a lot of the joy that comes from smaller, every day wins.

So I am determined to celebrate all my wins, big or small. It is truly an honor to be shortlisted for the Mystery and Mayhem Awards, knowing I’m standing up there with the Olympic contenders in my genre. Gold may be out of my reach. I may not even make it up on the podium. But I’m an Olympian just the same.