Mary Kaye rides into the winner’s circle.

Some time ago I wrote about singer-songwriter Mary Kaye’s latest album, Ride a Wide Circle. Although I am seldom at a loss for words when my fingers touch a keyboard, it was difficult to sing the praises for that album effectively.

The judges for the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum’s Western Heritage Awards liked it too—they named the album’s title song winner of the Wrangler Award for music for Original Western Composition. And it’s no wonder. Say these few lines from the song and you’ll hear echoes of the beauty of her language:

And he’ll ride a wide circle, checkin’ stock and makin’ plans

’Cause he’s got dreams tied hard and fast, and they hold him to this land.

Yes, he’ll ride a wide circle and today he’ll ride alone

In a saddle that’s no rich man's trophy, it’s a workin’ man’s throne.

Hats off to Mary Kaye for another in a long line of awards recognizing her extraordinary abilities as a singer and, more important to my way of thinking, a songwriter. Visit her website and rope in a copy of Ride a Wide Circle.

Lies They Tell Writers, Part 24: Awards Matter.

Winning awards is nice. Getting a certificate in the mail can be satisfying. Hanging a plaque on the wall is gratifying. Standing up in a crowded banquet hall to give an acceptance speech can be downright uplifting.

But does it matter?

Most everyone in the book business thinks so. We fill out entry forms and enter awards competitions and hope the judges recognize the brilliance of our work. We herald our accomplishments in press releases and author bios and on book covers.

Trouble is, there are too many awards.

You’re hard pressed nowadays to find a writer who’s not billed as an “award-winning author.” As a result, awards are good for the ego, but you have to wonder if they’re good for much else.

I have been honored by winning the Western Writers of America Spur Award. Everyone who’s anyone in the world of Western literature will tell you Spur Awards—along with the Wrangler Award from the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum—are as good as it gets; the most prestigious recognition there is.

But beyond those in the know, it would be difficult to find a reader who knows the difference between a hard-to-get award like a Spur or a Wrangler and the kind they pass out by the pallet load for doing little more than getting your name on a book cover—including books you publish yourself.

Given this state of affairs, is there any value to winning an award?
I don’t know. I’ll think about it.

But for now, you’ll have to excuse me—I’ve got to fill out the entry forms for another award competition.

Wrangler Winning Amigos.

In mid-April, two of my friends will be in Oklahoma City to receive what may well be the highest honor anyone who writes about the West can earn.

Each year, the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum bestows Western Heritage Awards in a variety of categories. This year, my good friends Michael Zimmer and Larry Thomas are among the winners—Michael for "Outstanding Western Novel" for The Poacher’s Daughter and Larry for "Outstanding Poetry Book" for The Goatherd. Each will walk down the red carpet to receive The Wrangler, a handsome bronze trophy that all Western writers would love to get their hands on.

Both these men have written a passel of good stuff that deserves recognition, so this honor is no big surprise to those who have read their work. And, having read The Poacher’s Daughter and The Goatherd, I can vouch for the quality of these books. If you haven’t read them, do so. Both are "Outstanding" examples of the best in Western writing today.

Congratulations, felicitations, compliments, cheers, praises, accolades, and a big tip of the hat to Michael Zimmer and Larry Thomas.