What I’ve Learned From Running a Writing Competition

When I started the Cheshire Novel Prize, I thought I understood how much work it would involve.

I was wrong.

Like many writers, I'd entered competitions before. I'd submitted my work, paid my entry fee, waited for results, celebrated two long-list announcements, and occasionally felt disappointed when things didn't go my way. What I hadn't appreciated was everything that happens behind the scenes to make a competition work.

Over the last few years, I've learned more than I ever expected about running a writing prize. Some lessons have been encouraging. Others have been difficult. Some have made me cry. Some have made me beam with happiness. But all of them have made me appreciate the writing community even more.

The first thing I've learned is that writers care deeply about their work. That might sound obvious, but when you're reading hundreds or even thousands of entries, you see just how much courage goes into pressing submit. Every manuscript represents months or years of effort. Every synopsis carries someone's hopes for their writing career. Behind every entry is a person who has chosen to be vulnerable.

That responsibility is never something I take lightly or that feels light.

I've also learned that transparency matters. One of the reasons I created the Cheshire Novel Prize was because I believed writers deserved more than complete silence or a form email rejection. That's why I built feedback into the prize. Feedback is time-consuming, expensive and often incredibly challenging to deliver at scale, but I still believe writers deserve insight into why a piece of work connected—or didn't connect—with readers. That belief remains at the heart of everything I do.

Another lesson has been that no matter how carefully you plan, you cannot please everyone.

This was perhaps the hardest lesson for me personally. When you create something, you want people to like it. You want them to understand your intentions. You want every entrant to have a positive experience.

But writing is subjective, and competitions are subjective too.

The same manuscript can be loved by one reader and not connect with another. Feedback that one writer finds useful might frustrate someone else. Decisions made with the best intentions can still be criticised. Despite us saying one paragraph of feedback is given, we always give more. We’ve had complaints about giving 6 pages (yes 6 pages) of generic feedback. I do this as an addition to help writers more - to give craft tips and to share my knowledge of how to structure your novel or show and not tell. We are the only worldwide prize that offers feedback to every entry for free. I do them all personally and in that time, I don’t write or work for my editing business. It takes me three months to complete. But I don’t mind doing it because I believe that feedback is important.

I've learned that if you spend all your time responding to every criticism, you stop spending time improving what you've built. Sometimes listening is important. Sometimes change is necessary. But sometimes the best thing you can do is keep doing the work and let your actions speak for themselves.

I've also learned that kindness is often quieter than criticism. For every few complaints there are countless private messages from writers who have found encouragement, confidence or motivation through the process. There are writers who have gone on to secure representation and book deals, complete manuscripts or simply rediscover their enthusiasm for writing. Those messages matter to me more than the writers probably realise.

Most importantly, I've learned that building something worthwhile is rarely easy.

There have been moments when I've questioned whether the workload was sustainable. Moments when problems felt overwhelming. Moments when criticism landed harder than I will ever admit.

But then I remember why I started this wonderful prize.

I started CNP because I love books. I love writers. I love discovering new voices. I love helping people take one step closer to their goals. I love walking into bookshops and seeing the books that entered our prize—some of whom didn’t win—get published. And I always turn them to face the front; sometimes I even move them forward or onto a table 😊

The Cheshire Novel Prize has never been perfect because nothing created by people ever is. What I can say with confidence is that every decision has been made with writers in mind and with the desire to create opportunities for unpublished authors and with genuine good intentions.

If there's one thing this journey has taught me, it's that creating something meaningful also requires resilience. Whether you're writing a novel or running a writing prize, there will always be people who don't understand what you're trying to achieve. But there will always be people who do.

You have to keep going anyway.

Thank you to everyone who has supported the prize, entered their work, trusted us with their stories and been part of this journey so far.

Here's to continuing discovering brilliant new writers.

We can’t wait to read your story.

Kind regards

Sara Cox