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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
Sarah Avery's LiveJournal:
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|Thursday, September 24th, 2015|
|Where To Find Me At Capclave
It's a lovely little convention, not overwhelming in scale, with an unusual emphasis on short fiction. When I meet a writer who hasn't tried the convention circuit, I propose Capclave
as a good first experience.
I love it, too, when a convention comes within bicycle range of my house. In this case, it's more my husband's bicycle range than mine, but I'll count it. Anyhow, although I won't be sleeping at the Hilton Washington DC North (a disingenuous name for a hotel way out in Gaithersburg), I'll be on premises pretty much from the start of programming to the end, every day of the con.
The programming volunteers have sent me the current version of the schedule. I'll post an update if anything changes. Here's where I'll be:Friday, 9 October 2015
5:00 PM-5:50 PM
Writing in Series
8:00 PM-8:50 PM
The Right Length For Your StorySaturday, 10 October 2015
2:00 PM-2:50 PM
The Epic Blockbuster
3:00 PM-3:50 PM
Creating Your SettingSunday, 11 October 2015
12 PM-12:25 PM
Reading - Sarah Avery
(I'll be reading from The Imlen Bastard
, since I'll be launching the Kickstarter to self-publish it two days after the convention ends.)
|Monday, September 7th, 2015|
|Now That's How To Celebrate A Life
There are funerals that are totally unabashed about being funerals, and that can be perfect. There are funerals that try not to funerals, that want to be celebrations of the life of the beloved dead, but they don't quite take off, and turn out to be funereal celebrations -- that can be what needs to happen, sometimes, too. And then there are memorials in celebration of a life that's ended that really flower into jubilation. Jubilation punctuated by people taking turns breaking down in tears, but still. It doesn't sound quite right to call those celebratory funerals -- a celebratory funeral would be something else, I suppose, and I'm lucky that I've never been to one. But this thing that happened yesterday, it was like nothing else.
I'm just home from a memorial that broke, for a little while, into a dance party.
After the ritual was over, with its storytelling and singing, one of the mourners who's a wedding DJ by profession set off a playlist of the music Keith had loved. It was quiet enough for everybody to converse over, just loud enough to give us a steady stream of Keith's aesthetic as a sort of undercurrent.
Until we came to Delta Rae's "Dance in the Graveyards." Now, before you run off to YouTube to hear the most joyful song I've ever heard that also deals honestly with loss, consider whether you have some tissues handy and you're someplace where it's okay to have watery eyes for a few minutes -- in which case, watch this heartbreakingly beautiful video
. If you're someplace where you can't let your hair down quite that much, here's a version
that gives just the audio and the lyrics. It's okay to go check those out. I'll be here when you get back.
So you see why dancing erupted.
We were under the stars, with candles lit in the hundred or so candle holders Keith left behind (because that's how we Pagan hoarders roll). "Careful of the candles!" said some wise person. The only word that made it through the burst of perfect song was candles
, so we all found ourselves picking up those hundred candle holders and holding them aloft while we danced.
Our resident DJ being awesome, he put the song right back on, louder, and we sang along at the tops of our lungs, improvising harmonies as we went.
So many moments in the shockingly brief time between Keith's diagnosis and his memorial have unfolded perfectly -- perfectly except for happening about forty years too early. Keith would have made an excellent octogenarian. Aside from that one rendingly wrong thing, I'm thinking what most of us are: when it's my time (long and far may it be), if you can't find my instructions and I can't tell you how I want things, just ask the people who were there what they did for Keith.
And if you're reading this, you are cordially invited to dance in my graveyard.
|Friday, August 28th, 2015|
|What The New Website Can Do (We Hope)
is now faster to load, easier to use on a wider array of devices, and subtly more intuitive. The things that worked about it before it crashed work again in approximately the same way, at least from the user's point of view, as they did before. So the homepage picks up my blog posts from Livejournal automatically (which is much less time consuming for me than posting it on my website first and having LJ pick it up), and the overall aesthetic is the same.
The email list subscription works now -- I know because some of you have subscribed in the past few days. Thank you!
We've got plenty of updating left to do, especially of content. The bio, biblio, and event calendar pages still need to be caught up, and we'll be adding a new section for free reads. Dan is working on making the site mobile-friendly. There may be technical problems that don't show up in our humble testing environment. We just have to survive the first week of the school year and hosting a child's birthday party, and we'll be able to turn our attention back to the website. (Have I mentioned recently the awesomeness of my spouse? He's devoted just about every second of his free time over the past three weeks to this project.)
Meanwhile, if you feel so inclined, please go poke at sarahavery.com
. If anything breaks, doesn't look right on your hardware or in your browser, or could otherwise use improvement, I'd take it as a great kindness if you'd let me know.
|Thursday, August 20th, 2015|
|Website, Kickstarter, And Other Rumblings Of Progress Under The Surface
My website's nearly done getting a major overhaul, and it'll go live probably in the next week or so. The most significant change is that it'll put all the links to stories available for free online in one place, and I'll be offering an e-reader friendly version of a story never published elsewhere to anybody who signs up for my email list. This offer will include people who are already signed up. I haven't used the list yet, so I'm looking forward to seeing what I can do with it.
I've also chosen a start date for my first Kickstarter campaign. Tuesday, October 13, the day after I get home from Capclave, I'll be... do people really use the expression "pulling the trigger" about crowdfunding campaigns? Weird. I'd like to have a way to talk about that phase of the project that doesn't sound like I'm deploying a weapon at people who are helping me bring a book into being. Anyhow, October 13, definitively, with hopes of getting the book itself out in the early srping of 2016, subject to the artist
's availability and how many illustrations we end up commissioning from her.
Meanwhile, I'm acting on some excellent and friendly advice on how to fix one of the Beltresa novellas. Apparently, if I take the last 5,000 words and cut that part back to 1,000 words, it will no longer feel like a fragment of a larger book. Okay, let's see if that works. I get all the best personalized rejection letters!
|Saturday, August 8th, 2015|
|Return of the Grail Bearer 3: What Is Remembered Lives
(You may wish to read the first episode
, in which Sir Percival and his companion set out on the River of Story to bring the Grail to a Fisher King in need of healing, and the second episode
, in which our wanderers brave rough waters. You may also wish to read Percival's first appearance
The knight and his author made their way down the Delaware River, across two centuries, and catty-corner from winter to summer. "Is it this one?" Percival asked when the next creek poured in from the west.
The author squinted upstream, tasted the wind. "No." They paddled on. "Look, I've got no quarrel with your king. He was probably the best game in town at the time."
"I just don't see how you can disbelieve in kings after seeing your General Washington for yourself. If any man after Arthur was kingly enough to have pulled the sword from the stone, it would be..."
"This one," said the author. She leaned west to listen for something. "Yes, this is definitely our tributary."
The creek poured from a concrete pipe whose diameter beat Percival's height by two handspans. "Do we go in?"
"Let's try portaging first."
So they stepped out into a gulping mud that swallowed the author's right shoe and left both travelers mud-spattered to the waist. Hefting the boat shoulder-high, they followed the outside of the concrete pipe to its start, where the tributary sparkled over its bed of smooth stones.
"Upstream," sighed the author.
"Of course," Percival said brightly. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained."( Read more...Collapse )
|Sunday, August 2nd, 2015|
|I've Won The Mythopoeic Fantasy Award!
Every time I tried to write acceptance remarks just in case, I found myself drafting congratulatory emails to the finalists who aren't here, and rehearsing what I would say to Theodora Goss, who's sharing a hotel room with me at the conference. I really enjoyed your book, and I'm honored to have been named on the shortlist in your company.
It was something I could say with a full and open heart to all four of them, because I'd read their books, and they were all wonderful in their different ways.
Fortunately, Dora insisted that I should prepare some remarks, because you never know.
I got to hear Jo Walton -- the Guest of Honor and a previous winner of this award and, most to the point, a writer whose work I admire tremendously -- give the announcement that the Rugosa book had won.
So here I am with my award trophy, the Aslan. Tomorrow morning I fly home. Aslan is on the move!
|Wednesday, July 29th, 2015|
|Where To Find Me At MythCon
Tomorrow I fly to Colorado Springs. Weather permitting, I'll land around 4:30pm. So far my only plans for Thursday night are to unpack and iron my conference finery, and if I have any brain left from traveling I'll write another episode of Percival. If any of you going to the conference or already in Colorado would like to get together for dinner, please get in touch. I'd love to see people.
My reading is scheduled for 1:15 in the Aspen Room on Sunday afternoon. Since this year's conference theme is Arthuriana, I plan to read How the Grail Came to the Fisher King
in its entirety, and if there's time, maybe such episodes of Return
of the Grail Bearer
as exist at that point. As my Dickens professor used to say, bring a tissue.
The banquet and presenting of awards is 6:30-8:30 Sunday. There's a remote possibility I'll have occasion to give acceptance remarks.
I'll definitely bring stuff to the Bardic Circle at 9pm Sunday in the Aspen Room. I'm not sure what I'll read yet. Probably scenes from the Rugosa book, maybe the Persephone sonnets, depending on the mood and pacing of the evening.
Monday morning, I fly for home. I'll be in either air or airports for about the next 12 hours, and then I'll spend Tuedsay getting put back together by my excellent chiropractor.
|Return of the Grail Bearer 2: Over (And Over) The Waterfall
[See Return of the Grail Bearer 1
, in which Sir Percival embarks on a quest down the River of Story.]
Percival twisted back to ask the author where they were -- conversation was difficult in a tandem kayak. She was squinting up at the constellations with such concentration, he did not interrupt her.
"Perfect," she said at last. She leaned to one side so he wouldn't have to twist so far around to see her. The boat drifted silently on a current powerful and slow. "We're exactly where I hoped we'd turn up."
"So, which otherworld is this?" He sniffed the air. "It doesn't smell floral like Faerie. It's definitely not Heaven. The sun never sets in your Summerlands, so it's got to be something else."
"Reports on the Summerlands vary, but you're right, this is somewhere else. We're on the Anduin, the Mississippi of Middle Earth. And see that bright star on the eastern horizon?"
"How do you know which way is east?"
"I've known the map to this place since I was eleven. So, the brightest one in the sky? That's Earendil, the most beloved star. You can bottle that light, and it's proof against pretty much any kind of badness. It's a light that never goes out, even in the darkest places. Most to the point, for a Fisher King fighting cancer, it makes unwholesome things wither and back the hell off. Fill the Grail with it, and we're good to go."
"Language," said the Knight of Purity.( Read more...Collapse )
|Saturday, July 25th, 2015|
|Return of the Grail Bearer
Percival hid behind the curtain of willow branches in full leaf, watching the knights practice jousting across the river. He wove the slenderest willow withes he could find into his first suit of armor, and put it on over the furs and hides that were all the clothing of his feral childhood.
This was his favorite moment in all the stories that had been told about him, the one he retreated to when nobody needed him to heal a Fisher King
. He was laughable in his innocence. The knights would laugh, later, when he emerged from the forest to join them. That was all right. Bearing the Grail demanded laughable innocence, and in Sir Percival's experience, Fisher Kings often needed to laugh.
Something long and shiny parted the branches -- plastic
, that was the word, and shaped like a boat paddle. The blunt prow of a bright blue tandem kayak nudged into Percival's hiding place. A bespectacled woman slid her her craft alongside the river's muddy bank, looked up at him, and said, "Sir Knight?"
"Milady," said Percival, because he still wasn't sure of the correct form of address from a character to his author.
"I'm so sorry to take you away from this, but we need you again. Same Fishers, different King. There's a biopsy coming up, and the results have to be good. I don't suppose anyone's told you the parable of Schroedinger's cat..." The words had started out all business, but now her voice quavered. "Will you come?"
"Of course I'll come. And there was much talk of the miraculous cat at the Grail Castle of Sloan-Kettering."
So Percival let go of his feral child form and became his pilgrim self, humble in sackcloth.( Read more...Collapse )
|Wednesday, July 15th, 2015|
|If You Don't Remember How You Might Have Broken Your Aching Ribs
Here's something I wish I'd known a few weeks earlier: When my late brother-in-law Zach got diagnosed with his cancer, he felt like he had some broken ribs -- it hurt to breathe in a particular area -- but he didn't remember an incident that might have broken them. Turned out cancer that had started in his bile duct was moving in on his liver.
And now the friend who had trouble breathing, but had been assured that he had broken ribs, has a dire diagnosis.
So, my dears, if you ever feel like your ribs are broken but don't remember a specific way you could have gotten injured, go to your doctor immediately
just in case.
Fuck Cancer. It's time to break out all my old FC gear again.
You know what else it's time to break out?
I'm bringing back the fucking Grail
. (I just noticed the Grail is now available as a podcast
. I'd planned some kind of cheery post to announce that when it finally happened. This bit of news is disappearing into the Infinite Perspective Vortex of this morning's.)
Pardon me while I portage my fictional kayak to the big river of story. Let's make it a tandem kayak this time. I have a Grail Knight to fetch.
|Tuesday, July 7th, 2015|
|Reviewed Two Books I Liked A Lot
Here's what I can't figure out: Why is there not more buzz about Sebastien de Castell's Greatcoats
series? The debut volume, Traitor's Blade
, was my favorite book of 2014. The second, Knight's Shadow
, is my favorite of 2015, and it's hard to imagine the rest of the year bringing me a book I could like better. Nothing against the year -- it's just that de Castell is that good. When the projected series of four volumes is complete, I predict it will come to be spoken of as a classic.
But a lovely close second is Shieldwall: Barbarians!
, by M. Harold Page. It's more historical fiction than fantasy, imaginatively filling in all the gaps in the historians' records of the Siege of Orleans, when Attila the Hun brought his whole army to bear on the walls, and the defenders prevailed -- nobody now is quite sure why. Page wrote the book to be an old-fashioned adventure story for his son, and it does have the feel of the YA historicals of my youth. Hengest, a prince fostered among Romans, must lead his father's Jutish warband to rescue his sister from slavery. Her abductors' trail leads into the most dangerous war zone in Hengest's world. I'm looking forward to the next volume.
|Tuesday, June 30th, 2015|
|Mythopoeia With A Twist Of Lyme
I'm definitely going to Mythcon
, which means I need to learn how to write an award acceptance speech, just in case I win this thing
. The odds that I'll need to use the speech are not overwhelmingly high, which makes me a little less nervous about writing badly in an unfamiliar form. I did more research, and it turns out one of the finalists whose name I didn't recognize is the person who wrote Chocolat
. Could my presence on the shortlist possibly be any more anomalous? On the other hand, as far as I can figure out the Mythopoeic Society's rules, the award is juried, rather than voted on by the society's membership or the conference's attendees. If I'm right about that, I can at least be sure that the people voting will have read my book.
Meanwhile, I'm the lead story on today's Wild Hunt
It's hard to explain the importance of that site in the Pagan community. I considered whether to liken it to the Daily Beast, and then I got stuck on imagining the Wild Hunt tracking and capturing the Daily Beast, and I still haven't quite made it back from being easily amused.
Even meanerwhile (because it should be linguistically possible to have two concurrent situations in the background while a third is in the foreground), the Lyme is definitely somewhat abated. Taking an antibiotic that makes you photosensitive is especially irksome in the week of the summer solstice, just when your kids are out of school, craving outdoor time and joining the swim team. No sunblock is enough. But offered a choice between the burns and the combination of crushing fatigue and brain fog I had before the Lyme test, I'd take the burns any day. I seem to have full use of my brain back, and I have enough energy now that I no longer lie glassy-eyed in the living room while the television parents my children. Until I started getting better, I had no idea how sick I was.
There's even enough energy now that I've picked up a couple of new students, ones who want to make the most of the summer by meeting twice or three times a week. I haven't had a tutoring schedule this full since we moved out of New Jersey. It turns out I've really missed explaining the five dimensions of the English verb to teenage boys. Have I mentioned that I'm anomalous?
|Friday, June 12th, 2015|
|Maybe NOW I'll Get My Superpowers Back
Remember that concussion I had in November, and how I lost my reading speed? It got better for a while, until it started getting worse. And the post-concussion fatigue got better, too, until it became utterly crushing.
And then it occurred to me that fatigue and brain fog were also symptoms of Lyme disease. Which a blood test just confirmed I have. I've probably had it for months.
Rejoice! For there is nothing like a diagnosis that can be acted on.
So now I take a bunch of antibiotics (and carry around an Epi-Pen, and after this morning's little incident get way more vigilant
about keeping the kids away from the damn Epi-Pen), and with any luck, I'll get my nervous system fully online again. It's such a lovely nervous system. Comes in handy for writing with, you know.
|Tuesday, June 2nd, 2015|
|My Fellow Award Finalists Have Been Announced
My brain is trying so hard to process this list
. It tried stammering, then it tried Jersey-style profanity (Holy #%&*!), and now it's playing the Talking Heads' "Once in a Lifetime." Here comes the voice of David Byrne again: You may say to yourself, Well, how did I get here?
Here's the ballot in my award category:Mythopoeic Fantasy Award for Adult Literature
Sarah Avery, Tales from Rugosa Coven
Stephanie Feldman, The Angel of Losses
Theodora Goss, Songs for Ophelia
Joanne M. Harris, The Gospel of Loki
Joe Hill and Gabriel Rodriguez, Locke & Key
series, consisting of Vol. 1: Welcome to Lovecraft; Vol. 2: Head Games; Vol. 3: Crown of Shadow; Vol.4: Keys to the Kingdom; Vol. 5: Clockworks; and Vol. 6: Alpha & Omega
Okay, to break it down for anybody who doesn't read fantasy (and if you don't, you're in good company, along with my mom, so that's totally fine), here's why these other finalists are blowing my mind:
Joe Hill is massively famous, with multiple New York Times bestsellers to his name. (People usually also mention that his father is Stephen King, which is why he publishes under a pen name and kept his other identity secret for as long as he could.)
Theodora Goss is the perfect author for the Mythopoeic Fantasy Award. When I saw her name on the announcement, my first thought was, This can't be her first nomination. Surely she won for In the Forest of Forgetting?
She didn't win in 2008, but only because that was the year Catherynne Valente won for Orphan's Tales
I'm not familiar with Stephanie Feldman or Joanne M. Harris, but their publishers are Ecco and Gollancz. I've been assuming all these years that my manuscripts were not worthy to lick the crumbs from under the tables of Ecco and Gollancz -- that despite the fancy doctorate and whatever other fancy stuff can be ascribed to me, I'm not fancy enough for presses that prestigious. Once I decided I'd rather be entertaining than academic, I figured prestige was not something I should aim at anymore. Maybe that was the typical writerly impostor-syndrome voice talking.
mutters the impostor-syndrome voice, maybe you really don't deserve the nomination. Maybe you were right to be shocked, and you don't belong on this list after all.
Nasty little imp, that voice is. Hey, imp, find something helpful to do, or prepare to be ignored.)
Oh, and I have a partial answer to the Talking Heads' question -- I know a little more this hour about how I got here. Thanks are due to Pauline Alama
, who's part of my old critique group, the Writers of the Weird. She's a longtime member of the Mythopoeic Society and nominated my book for the initial longlist. An award committee culled the longlist down to five finalists. Maybe I'll get to find out more later about their process. Presumably it involved reading my book and finding it somehow preferable to a bunch of other books. Books that also had advocates (other than their authors and publishers) who liked them enough to nominate them for the longlist.
This is the point at which my mind starts boggling again. Somehow I got preferred
for something over an unknown number of authors that probably included at least a few major names who were publishing with major presses. (The imp tries to prepare me for the possibility that this is all a clerical error and I'll have to post a retraction. Bleeping imp.) Looks like it'll be a bogglesome week.
|Monday, June 1st, 2015|
|Rugosa Coven Book Is A Finalist For Mythopoeic Fantasy Award!
Here's something I had daydreamed might happen about ten or twenty years from now. Seriously, look at the list of authors who have won this thing in past years. I've dreamed of being in that company -- of course
I have, for most of my life -- but it never occurred to me that the first book I saw go into print would get me on a list like, oh, this one
. There you can find the ballots with each year's finalists, back to 1971, with the winning works marked by asterisk. Mature works from major presses, almost all. (A little voice in my head points out that I started writing the Rugosa novellas in my late thirties, but that's so early in my career as a professional writer of fiction that I'm not sure whether it counts as authorial maturity.) The idea that next year my name, with my little book title and my small press publisher, will appear on that list shocks me.
The Mythopoeic Society has not yet announced the 2015 ballot publicly, so I don't know who the other finalists are. Looking at the history, I will be Very Surprised if I win, at least this year. You may have heard of the toast they raise every year at the Hugo Award Losers Party -- It's an honor just to be nominated.
Yes, that. I wish I knew who had nominated me. I owe that person heartfelt thanks.
Now I have to figure out how I'm going to afford airfare to Colorado Springs for Mythcon
, which is more academic conference and author/publishing industry professional retreat than fan convention. The event and its award are, by outside world and other-genre standards, obscure, but in my little corner of the cosmos, they're A Very Big Deal, and I'd be a fool to miss them.
I guess it's time to drum up some tutoring business. It'll take a bunch of SAT prep gigs to buy that plane ticket.
Of all the problems I have today, here's my favorite: What on earth do I wear to the award ceremony?
For a problem like that, the Gods be thanked.
|Friday, May 22nd, 2015|
|Where To Find Me At Balticon
Judging an Editor's Work (Panel) (Moderator), Sat 10:00 - 10:50, Salon D
With Martin Berman-Gorvine, Ally Bishop, and Trisha J Wooldridge
What qualities do a good editor bring to the writing process? How can a reader working with a Hugo ballot or an aspiring author looking for a publisher determine an editor's strengths and weaknesses based on the work they've helped produce?
Writing Diverse Characters: Archetypes vs. Stereotypes (Panel) (Participant), Sat 11:00 - 11:50, Derby
Jennifer R Povey (M), Day Al-Mohamed, Stephanie Burke, Sunny Moraine, Don Sakers, Melissa Scott
[It's not clear whether I'm still scheduled for this panel. In the draft schedule grid I was emailed, I'm on it. In the version posted on the Balticon website, I'm not.]
A panel on handling diversity in fiction for less experienced writers, dealing with things like avoiding tokenism, learning confidence in presenting 'different' characters.
Reading as a Writer (Panel) (Participant), Sat 14:00 - 14:50, Pimlico
With Bugsy Bryant (M), Tim Dodge, Hugh J O'Donnell, Mark L Van Name
How do writers interact with the fiction they're reading? How do you read not only for pleasure but to improve your craft?
What Can We Learn From Bad Writing? (Panel) (Participant), Sat 21:00 - 21:50, Tack
With Tim Dodge (M), Meriah Crawford, Judi Fleming, Alessia Brio
We all like to make fun of it, but what makes bad writing bad? How can we use this to improve our own work?
Broad Universe Rapid Fire Reading I and II - Sunday 12:00-13:50, Concierge Lounge
(A sampler of short readings from many members of a writers' organization dedicated to promoting fantasy, science fiction, and horror literature by women. We've got two hours' worth of readers, at 8 minutes each.)
Autograph - Sunday 14:00 (Autographs) (Participant), Sun 14:00 - 14:50, Autograph Table (HVI)
(I'll be sharing the autograph table with Darrell Schweitzer and Martin Berman-Gorvinne. I'm really looking forward to it. Schweitzer is one of the old guard, who has known everyone and worked the field in every capacity. He actually does know as much as he thinks he does, and he's very generous with younger writers and editors who want to pick his brain. Martin is an old friend from writing summer camp, and here we still are, writing approximately the kinds of things we said we wanted to when we were in our early teens. Oh, and if anyone shows up looking to get their books autographed, that'll be cool, too.)
Reading - Sunday 16:00-16:50, Chesapeake
With Katie Bryskie and Sarah Pinsker
(Sarah Pinsker's work is always a wonder to hear. Last year at Balticon, I got to hear her read all of "The Low Hum of Her," and it was my best short fiction experience of 2014. I'm not familiar with Katie Bryskie yet, but I'm looking forward to finding out why the programming volunteers put us together. From what I've seen on the schedule so far, they seem to have put some real thought into their groupings.)
Dark Quest Launch Party - Sunday 19:00-18:50, Frankie and Vinnie's
With Danielle Ackley-McPhail (M), Mike McPhail, Neal Levin, Keith R.A. DeCandido, Christine Norris
(I'll be here to help out, as the usual suspects at Dark Quest helped out when I had a book to launch. Also, Danielle always arranges impressive amounts of free food. This year I'm not actually launching any titles, and there probably won't be readings if it's the same room I think it is -- we tried readings in that space last year, and the acoustics were impossible. So this is a good time to find me if you just want to hang out and converse.)
|Sunday, May 10th, 2015|
|What A Month That Was
Hello, Internet. I missed you guys. I had a family emergency to deal with. The center of it isn't my story to tell, so I'll just say it took up all my time and attention, and ended with everyone safe and well at home.
I seem to remember that, back in April, it felt very important to write some kind of post about the Hugo controversy. Doesn't look terribly important after this month. I had a draft blog post that went on and on, but which now has been swallowed by livejournal. And that may be for the best.
Meanwhile, Operation Happy Puppy
continues quietly in the background. I'm making lists of things that need to be set in order for a pre-pet-adoption home visit. Many times while I tended my share of the family emergency, I ratcheted my stress level back down by trawling the web for puppy photos. So many happy puppies. I highly recommend this strategy. For pure novelty, I favor the Lagotto Romagnolo, a rare dog breed that specializes in hunting by scent for wild mushrooms. I could watch those little guys
dig for truffles all day. In fact, there was a day this past month when that was basically all I could do.
Now something different will happen, about which I am a very happy primate.
|Wednesday, April 8th, 2015|
|Okay, How About THESE Puppies?
"The Sad What?"
For benefit of readers who don't follow science fiction and fantasy news, the Sad Puppies are the perplexing self-declared villains of the day. This is the kind of story that moves people who don't write fiction to say things like, "You couldn't make this stuff up." Actually, I could, and stuff even weirder, but I will concede, the parts that nobody had to make up are remarkable enough.
Here's a short version: Two smallish factions of politically and socially conservative readers calling themselves the Sad Puppies and the Rabid Puppies gamed the nomination process for the most prestigious awards in SF/F because -- I am not making this up, and some of their other reasons are even further out there -- they were angry at seeing too many awards go to works by women and people of color.
There are other descriptions of the controversy, but suffice it to say, it's an acrimonious mess. One of the most reasoned, open-minded discussions has been hosted by John O'Neill, who's in the awkward position of seeing his magazine Black Gate
nominated for a Hugo Award for the first time, through a process he regards as so tainted that he would vote for No Award against the site that's been his labor of love for over a decade. That's where I first found out about the Sad Puppies controversy, because I've been a columnist at Black Gate for ages. The comment threads there have been surprisingly civil for their participants' range of political views. If this is an issue you're curious about, or already care about, here
posts well worth reading
, with links leading to lots of other places where other parts of the wider conversation are going on.
But let's back up for a moment to the names. What's up with the puppies, anyway? Why puppies?
Apparently the first year one of these conservative guys tried to game the nomination process with a slate of candidates, "The original idea was to call it the 'Sad Puppies Think of the Children Campaign' – a dig at those who take their social crusades too seriously."
(Yes, that's a link to Breitbart. The awards controversy has been covered by Entertainment Weekly, Huffington Post,
and the Guardian
, too. The world beyond geekdom seems suddenly to care about an award decided by a total of under 6,000 voting members of the World Science Fiction Convention. Weird.) I haven't yet managed to dig up the original post in which the Puppies named themselves, but I'm curious about whether they were experiencing a moment of self-awareness about their own crusade, or mocking that tendency in the people they regarded as their enemies.
Regardless of whether they have a sense of humor about themselves, I've been blessed with a sense of humor about myself, and I've decided on my course of action.
I'll adopt a dog about it.
Well, not about it
, of course. I'd been telling the kids we would do that soon, soon, but now I'll commit to having the house ready by Labor Day Weekend. The Capital-S Capital-P Sad Puppies will go win or lose in the Hugo voting that weekend, and there will be drama that lots of other people feel like yelling about online. Meanwhile, my life will go happily on, and I'll spend the day playing fetch with someone far more important to me than any of the folks with a nomination in the Best Short Story category.
Who has been harmed by this year's Hugo Awards conflict? Well, some writers, editors, and artists who had worthy work eligible for nomination this year got locked out of contention, and that hurts their long-term career chances. People like John O'Neill and Matthew David Surridge, who did not ask to be nominated on the slate and did not see any of this coming, have had to do a lot of explaining about their principles and positions in a controversy they did nothing to stir up. The long-term integrity of the Hugo Awards has been compromised, and that's something a lot of people care about for a wide variety of different reasons. I'm not in a position to help any of those people.But what about the literal, actual puppies?
Because now every time I hear the words "sad puppies," I'm not going to have warm, fuzzy thoughts about rescued dogs who need homes, like maybe mine. I'm going to think about Theo Beale, a.k.a. Vox Day, the most hated man in science fiction, who has argued in earnest that African-Americans are subhuman and that women should not be allowed to vote.
Seriously, when I read some of the things the people writing out of the Rabid Puppies faction say when they try to explain their reasoning, my first thought is, This is an insult to actual rabid puppies everywhere.
These guys have every right to call themselves Sad Puppies, Rabid Puppies, Super Puppies, Blue Ribbon Puppies, or whatever they like. Fine.
Meanwhile, I commend to your attention Petfinder.com
, in case there's room in your life for an actual sad puppy, one who would rather take a walk with you and then spend half an hour gnawing on his squeaky toy than, say, hijack your community's efforts to recognize excellence and then spend eternity bashing an imaginary conspiracy of so-called Social Justice Warriors.
You could name your puppy Hugo, or perhaps Norton or Campbell in recognition of the other luminaries whose names have been given to the major awards in our field. You could name your puppy after a worthy work or author whose work got closed out by the nomination shenanigans -- or by the last few years of alleged "affirmative action awards," if you believe that's what happened. Hey, one area of common ground I'm willing to credit the Sad Puppies with is that affection for real flesh-and-blood dogs is probably equally distributed across the political spectrum.
Fortunately, dogs don't care whom you vote for on your Hugo ballot, or whether your name appears on said ballot. As Aldous Huxley said, "To his dog, every man is Napoleon, hence the constant popularity of dogs." My hypothetical dog will care far less than I do about the number of rejections my trunk manuscript has racked up.
So maybe sad puppies are the ultimate solution to the problem of Sad Puppies. As John Scalzi put it in his list of possible responses to the Hugo voter's predicament
, "I also think it’s okay to penalize graceless award grasping by people who clearly despise the Hugo and what they believe it represents, and yet so very desperately crave the legitimacy they believe the award will confer to them. Therapy is the answer there, not a literary award."
Not up for therapy? Petfinder.com is still right here
|Tuesday, March 24th, 2015|
|And The Wild Voice Of C.S.E. Cooney
When I woke up this morning, I realized exactly who I wanted to narrate the audiobook for the novella. And no sooner did I go to Facebook to see what she'd been up to lately than I found she was in the endgame of her own crowdfunding campaign
As I write this, you have 29 hours left to get in on it. Claire is an amazing writer with a particular gift for voices. Her own writing voice, with its unabashed enthusiasm and theatricality, is as unmistakable as it is welcoming -- which makes all the varied character voices in her stories, songs, and poems the more remarkable.
And then there's her literal voice, the one you can hear narrating podcast stories or singing or performing poetry. I mean, really performing it, because she's got theater training and a bunch of legitimate stage acting experience. I give a pretty good reading, but man, I admire people who go to readings and truly perform
For years, I'd been reading her stuff online in the places where it's appeared for free. Every time she released a book, I put it on my list of things to buy in person from the traveling booksellers on the convention circuit, looked forward to reading it avidly...and then lost track of it. So the opportunity to load up on several(!) of Claire's books in one go, for less than I'd have paid retail to the traveling booksellers, while supporting her in making something entirely new was an opportunity I jumped at.
I'd supported other people's crowdfunding campaigns before with signal boost, a book review quote, a story for a benefit anthology, but this was the first campaign that ever moved me to take a credit card out of my wallet.
If her kind of thing -- mythic, slinky, funny, jubilant, occasionally dark, deeply kind -- is your kind of thing, now's a good time to go get it.
And, Dear Reader, I now have an audiobook narrator lined up for one of my stretch goals. If my book goes into the world with the bones I gave it, a face by Kate Baylay
, and C.S.E. Cooney's voice, it will be a gorgeous thing indeed.