Why we still need a book prize for women

Author and playwright Kate Mosse shares how she came to found the Women’s Prize for Fiction.

In the dreary January of 1992, a group of publishing colleagues, literary agents, booksellers and journalists gathered at a flat in London. We were there to discuss if it mattered that novels by women were routinely overlooked by the major literary prizes and, if we thought it did matter, what we were going to do about it. The catalyst had been an all-male Booker Prize shortlist the previous October. Not a cause for complaint in itself – any judging panel has the right to choose the books that they collectively most value, most admire – but the red flag had been that no one seemed to have noticed the absence of female writers.

What, we wondered, might have been the media reaction if an all-female shortlist had been announced? All of us there that night, men and women alike, were sure that it would have been seen as deliberate or political. It was a joyous, ideas-filled evening and we left with the spark of an idea. Perhaps a prize designed for women – from anywhere in the world writing in English, of any age, any nationality, any ethnicity, in any genre – was the way to level the playing field.

Some tough years followed; finding a sponsor and losing a sponsor. We learned that although some 60% of novels published were authored by women, fewer than 9% shortlisted for literary prizes were by women. There was, and still is, a great deal of bias and fear about women doing things for other women. We had false starts and setbacks; then a gift from an anonymous donor helped us to secure a major new sponsor, telecommunications company Orange. Finally, in May 1996, at the National Liberal Club in London, beneath portraits of whiskered MPS, I watched Juliet Stevenson award the very first Women’s Prize for Fiction (WPFF) to Helen Dunmore for her exquisite novel A Spell Of Winter.

The rest is history. After 26 years, the WPFF is now acknowledged to be the world’s largest annual celebration of women’s writing. We’ve put thousands of novels into the hands of millions of readers and we’ve become a charity. We’ve stayed true to our founding principles, namely, to celebrate, honour and amplify women’s creative voices and to use the razzmatazz of the prize to fund a range of educational initiatives, from reading groups to our new writing programme, Discoveries.

And to those who ask if we still ‘need’ a prize for women, I say: the prize has not only been successful in promoting writing by women from all over the world, but also in providing

This is a fight that is far from being over

a focal point for discussions about women’s lack of visibility, how women are overlooked, the bias in reviewing and media coverage, and about representation. This is a fight that is far from being over. Novels longlisted and shortlisted for the Women’s Prize are now on university and school reading lists, on sale in many languages all over the world, sitting on library shelves, in bookshops. As a historian, I know how easily women disappear. Things go backwards as well as forwards.

We find ourselves, in 2022, in darkening times, where women’s rights, equalities and access to education are being rolled back. It’s essential to ensure that women’s stories are heard, to keep amplifying their voices and the power of great fiction. After all, as the mighty Margaret Atwood says: ‘A word after a word after a word is power.’

• Warrior Queens & Quiet Revolutionaries: Women Who (Also) Built the World by Kate Mosse will be out in October 2022