On Being an Also-Ran

Everything You Wanted to Know about the Creative Workforce Fellowships from Someone Who Didn’t Get One

The collective sigh you might have heard across Northeast Ohio on the evening of November 24 was likely that of 166 applicants to the second cycle of the Community Partnership for Arts and Culture’s (CPAC) Creative Workforce Fellowship learning the results of two days of panel deliberations. At stake were 20 grants worth $20,000 each, as well as membership in the COSE Arts Network, a full tuition waiver for CPAC’s Artist as an Entrepreneur Institute, and inclusion in the publication of Fellows’ work. The stated purpose of the Creative Workforce Fellowship is to invest in developing and sustaining professional artists, establish a supportive environment for artists that nurtures creativity and innovation, and increase awareness of Cuyahoga County artists through their professional contributions within the creative workforce.

To the outside observer, that sounds very well and nice, but let’s be honest: the focus is on that 20 grand. It’s a lot of money. It’s enough to help support a working artist during her or his fellowship year—perhaps not in grand style, but it could provide an artist with an unpaid leave of absence from a day job or a move to a part-time schedule in order to have more time to focus on her or his art. Or it could pay for studio time or to produce a play or dance production. No matter where an artist is in her or his career, the funding and prestige attached to these grants is huge, even life changing.

I’m a fiction writer, one of 52 Literature applicants (which included poetry, fiction, and non-fiction). For this second cycle of grants, artists in music, literature, theater, dance, and interdisciplinary work were invited to submit applications. The first cycle, held in spring 2009, saw applications from 248 craft, design, media, mixed media, and visual artists.

I do most of my writing at night, after my daughter has gone to bed (and frequently after my husband has gone to bed). Trying to be a present, engaged parent and life partner while simultaneously pursuing your art is a daily balancing art. Writing is not generally a group activity. I do a lot of my thinking on my bike, which I call my idea generator [pictured]. You need time and space in which to write. I have a space; what I lack is time. The grant amount seemed like a means to an end—it could literally buy me time to write. Plus the notion that my work could be reviewed and voted upon by a panel of well-qualified peers and be judged worthy of recognition was appealing.

I completed the application back in September, sitting with my friend T. in my favorite coffee shop, trading comments and suggestions on each other’s artist statements and wondering how many applications CPAC would receive and whether we would be among those fortunate enough to receive a grant.

CPAC was very good about communicating the process for the adjudication process. It would take place over two days, applicants would be considered in groups of 20 based on discipline (20 music applications followed by 20 theater applications followed by 20 literature applications etc. etc.). Each of the seven panelists would vote whether to send the application to the next round. You would need at least four votes to move to the second round. All applications were given a number and judged anonymously.

I debated whether or not I wanted to attend the adjudication. As a working writer, I’m used to sending out my work to journals or publishers or editors and, nine times out of ten, receiving nothing but a rejection slip in return. It comes with the territory. But when you submit to a journal, you can pretend the editor isn’t looking at it. It’s a rare experience to listen to a group of panelists assess your work. I decided to go, and just to make sure that I didn’t let my nerves get the best of me and chicken out, I decided to write this essay on the grant process. After all, I couldn’t write about it if I didn’t go, right?

Actually, I could. I have to, because my daughter was sick the first day and I had to stay home with her. (See “daily balancing act” above.) I snuck online periodically during the day to check CPAC’s Twitter feed, which gave updates as to what application number was under review. When I saw an update showing they were on an application a few numbers after mine, I didn’t know what score I had received, but knew I could at least relax a bit. My friend T. was there and sent a quick email saying my application had received very positive comments. I didn’t know if I had made it to the next round or not until I got an email from another friend, L., that began, “Congratulations!” She had spent most of the day at the adjudication and took notes. She told me my application had received a "7," the highest first-round score possible. Yay!

I was too excited to sleep much that night, and the next morning I begged my (very kind) boss to let me sit in on the adjudication. I borrowed a mini laptop from a co-worker so I could do some work while I listened, and off I went. In raw numbers, 64 applications made it to the second day. Mine was one of twenty applications to receive a “7” in the first round. The panel reviewed and re-scored all the applications that had received a “4.” Anything that received a “5” or higher on this second round would move up to the “5” group. The process would repeat, except applications needed five then six votes to make it to the next round. An application would need the unanimous support of all seven panelists in order to be approved for a grant. I sat listening all morning, biting my nails, wondering if the high score I had received the day before meant anything.

It was very clear that each panelist was doing her or his best to weigh the merits and weaknesses of each application and give them all a fair and thorough look. Only a handful of applications managed to move up to the next round of voting. I recall one in particular, a music submission, managed to move from a four to a five to a six. Each time, the panelists heard two minutes of music from the submission, sometimes requesting different tracks, once or twice comparing it to another application. I was momentarily envious of the music and dance applicants, as their work was listened to or watched in two-minute stints. For literature and playwriting, the first page of the ten-page submission was posted on the screen in front of the panelist, which seemed a less immediate experience that engaged fewer senses.

Only four applications managed to make it to the final round to join the twenty that had received a “7” in the first round. That made a total of 24 applications for 20 grants and two alternates. Clearly, somebody (okay, two somebodies) were going home empty-handed. The panel spent thirty seconds reviewing each of the applications before voting. For me, that’s when the bottom fell out. Only four applications received a seven (and, in real terms, a grant). A smattering received sixes, another smattering received fives, then there was one four, one three, and one two. Mine was the four. I kept thinking, “But you loved my submission yesterday! What happened?"

What happened was the panel needed to make some hard choices. An application had to receive a unanimous vote in order to receive a grant. They weren’t able to do that with mine or several others and pulled up some strong applications from previous rounds until they found twenty (and two alternates) that they could all agree on. Perhaps they didn’t spend enough time with the application the second day and didn’t remember what they liked about it. Perhaps they thought it was too commercial and not literary enough. I don’t know. All I know is, I came close.

In a situation like this, it’s easy to disparage those who made the decision. The CPAC board met December 11 to formally approve the recommendations of the panel, and I know of three friends/acquaintances who are in line to receive one of the grants. They are all fine, fine writers (one is a playwright). Disparaging the choices of the panel would mean disparaging the work of people I know and respect. So no sour grapes here. Just gratitude that such an amazing program exists, and a feeling of validation that the panel liked my submission. It’s a novel-in-progress, and knowing that a well-read, well-qualified group of strangers responded positively to my work is a good feeling. I write because I have this strange need to tell stories. The grant might have made it easier to tell stories (for a while), but not getting one isn’t going to stop me from continuing to write. I suspect the same is true for all of the other also-rans.

And yes, I’m applying next year.


For more information about the Creative Workforce Fellowships of the Community Partnership for Arts and Culture, visit https://www.cpacbiz.org/business/CWF.shtml

When Cool Cleveland contributor Susan Petrone is not writing an arts or culture article for Cool Cleveland, she writes fiction. Her first novel, A Body at Rest, was published in early 2009 by Drinian Press. An excerpt from the novel and some of her published short fiction are available at http://www.SusanPetrone.com.