1/ Few things excite me more than seeing someone win an award in which I helped prepare the #awardnomination.
BEST.
THING.
EVER.
After lots of winning (and losing) nominations—and awards committees—I’ve developed an approach.
Let’s discuss, shall we?
2/ Okay, so let’s break this thing down like this using these 5 Ws:
WHO
WHAT
WHEN
WHERE
WHY
I like to start here before proceeding. Why? Because an honest assessment is key before passing go.
Feel me?
3/ Let’s be concrete:
WHO/WHAT: What’s the award & is it suitable for the individual? Are they in the target group?
WHEN: Do you have time to prepare a strong nomination by the deadline or nah?
WHERE/WHY: National? Regional? How can this advance your colleague?
Got it?
4/ Okay, so how do we even get to identifying a nominee:
They might ask you.
You might ask them (yes, you can do that.)
An institutional committee suggests them.
As a sponsor/mentor, you want to see someone advance.
You want to amplify an unsung hero.
Make sense?
5/ So a call for awards comes out—and you’ve identified a nominee. Congratulations!
Now what?
One of the first things I do is this:
Look at past winners. Who are they? What kinds of things have they done?
Note: Don’t let this discourage you—but it can be helpful.
6/ Next, ask yourself:
Is this a one-person deadline—meaning a letter from just you?
If it isn’t, who else is needed? Learners? Peers? Senior leadership? Mentees?
How well do I know the nominee? Should I pull someone else in to help?
Am I confident in my writing?
This matters.
7/ Now you’ve rounded up your hype-team and it’s time to tackle the nomination. Woohoo!
Rule #1:
Carefully read the criteria.
Rule #2:
Carefully read the criteria.
Rule #3:
See rules #1 and #2.
I print them and literally check them off to make sure I don’t miss anything.
8/ For example:
A call just came out for the #MedTwitter Excellence in Canine Companionship Award. It is for an awesome dog that goes above and beyond for a healthcare provider.
I’ve identified Willow P. Manning as a potential nominee. The deadline is December 1.
Cool? Cool.
9/ The criteria:
Must be a dog.
Must be a #MedTwitter member.
Must be at rank of 5 years or more.
Must be appointed to a household with a healthcare provider.
<3 household accidents or Zoom barking incidents.
Rut roh. Willow is just under 5. Have to wait until next year.
10/ So they meet criteria and you are ready.
Get their CV.
Consider a brief meeting to discuss particular aspects
Decide upon what to include/not include
What would set them apart?
What best underscores the spirit of the award?
Think carefully on this. It makes a difference.
11/ And now comes the time write your effusive love—I mean, nomination letter.
WAIT.
Are there any specific things they ask for? Like, should it be single-spaced? Is there a word count limit? Any other particulars?
For the love of Osler, PLEASE do not ignore these things.
12/ Here’s an example:
I want to nominate LaKeisha for this award.
LaKeisha meets criteria.
I’ve coordinated other letter writers.
We determine supporting evidence of each criterion.
We divide & conquer in our letters (to cover more.)
We adhere to word count/length rules.
13/ Next:
Set a deadline before the deadline to look at the final product. The key person (you) pulls it together with signatures, etc. and confirms the submission.
At Emory, we have some amazing staff like @leighpart who support our writing. Engage them if you can. So clutch.
14/ AGAIN—for the love of Rebecca Lee Crumpler:
Don’t get burnt by simple things like not making it a PDF, spacing, or word counts. Awards committees (and journal editors for that matter) may omit your amazing submission just because it was 512 words instead of <500.
I mean it.
15/ Hit send and wait to win!
Ummmm. . . but what if your nominee doesn’t win?
Treat it like a manuscript, man. Look it over, make some tweaks, and RESUBMIT it the following year. Sometimes all you need is a minor revision.
For the big awards, this is common—honestly.
16/ Okay. . . .now--who will you nominate?
Final thoughts:
When you look at past winners, think about inclusion. Nominating letters are an amazing opportunity for sponsorship—at all levels of the hierarchy and for all types of people.
1/ Typing notes & earhustling at the nurses’ station:
Older lady: "Where you been?"
Younger lady: "I lost my grandmother so was away."
OL: *looks sad* "Oh, really? Baby, I'm so sorry for your lost."
YL: "Loss."
Me: *looks up from computer*
OL: "Beg pardon?"
OMG. OMG. OMG.
2/ YL: "You said 'LOST.' It's my LOSS that you’re sorry for."
Me: *mouthing after tiny gasp* "Oh snaaaaap!"
*awkward silence*
YL: "No T. Like, LOST is mostly a verb and LOSS is a noun."
Me: *silent scream into fist*
*silence*
(actual GIF of me in that moment)👇🏾
3/ OL: "Well. Okay. I'm sorry for all of it whatever the hell you call it."
YL: "Just say LOSS with an S not LOST like a lost and found."
OL: "Wait. Am I giving you condolences and you gon' give me. . . . a grammar lesson?”
*super duper awkward silence while OL glares at her*
1/ You: "You from Cali?"
Me: "How'd you guess?"
You: "I hear it, baby."
*laughter*
Me: "I know where you're from."
You: "Yeah?"
Me: "Louisiana. 100%."
You smirked after I said that. Then came a slow wink and a nod.
You: "N'Orleans. All day and all night, baby!"
*laughter*
2/ Me: "I knew for sure when you said 'baaaby.'”
You: "Yeeeeah, baby. It's hard to hide."
*laughter*
You: "But real talk? This funny accent saved my life, baby."
I raised my eyebrows and leaned forward.
Me: "Tell me more."
3/ You: "I came here after Katrina. Ain't have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of! And I ain't exaggerating neither, baby. I'm talking the clothes on my back and nothing else."
Me: "Family? Did you have any in Atlanta?"
You: "Nope. None.”
Me: *shaking head* "Whoa."
1/ You used to wear bow ties. That's what you told me. Elaborate and patterned--real ones, of course.
"None of that bullshit clip-on mess," you'd told me with a raspy laugh. I squinted one eye, twisted my mouth and did an inward chuckle.
2/ Since you could see that I was amused, you egged me on by raising one eyebrow.
Me: "I'll never see clip on bow ties the same ever again."
You: "SO gonna be judging them from here forward, right?"
Me: "Totally."
We both giggled.
3/ Even though you'd been dealing with a lot for the past few years, I could see beyond your cachectic frame & scary lab results. Your eyes never lost their boyish mischief.
Yup.
Morning rounds were all business. But I always looped back to you later.