Weird Tales won the Hugo, and there was much rejoicing! The magazine remains a fantastic piece of reading, each issue consistently surprising and brilliant in all it has to offer. Stephen H. Segal and Ann VanderMeer make for excellent skippers, and recognition of their excellence is far overdue. Huzzah!
Because they're so excellent they broke the excellence benchmark and have rocketed on through to being FUCKIN' OARSUM, our skippers are up for the World Fantasy Awards as well. Phwoar!
If I hang around them long enough, think some of the awesome will rub off?
My Name In Lights!
Gillian Polack announced the table of contents for Baggage, cut 'n paste below;
My emo-victim-poor-meeeeeee-waaaaaaaaah-oh-dear-lord-this-story-is-going-to-kill-me is among some fine company there. I expect it to totally lack manners and grace and embarrass the shit out of me.
I figure, if you're going to set fire to Rome, you might as well do it properly. By 'Rome', I do of course mean my life, my social life, my health, my sleep, my flat, my absolutely everything. And by 'fire', I mean 'pull an asteroid from the sky'.
Things I have never done;
- Collaborated on a story.
- Written in a shared franchise world.
- Gone from conception to final draft in one (1) month.
Things I just did;
- ALL OF THE ABOVE
Which is why I haven't been posting. Or responding to my email. Or answering my phone. Or anything.
This is probably going to remain, for a long time, one of the stupidest things I have ever done. I knew it was going to be insane and intense when I agreed to it, though, and let's be honest, that is 100% of the reason I said yes when the suggestion was put to me.
It wasn't without cost. I've been spending 12-15 hour days at work, staying back after my normal day in order to write, because my flat was too cold to do so. My back hates me. My knuckles, fingers, hands, wrists, arms, elbows, shoulders and neck all hate me. My eyes hate me. I've been living on painkillers for a bit over a week now. I didn't do the dishes for two weeks and my flat stank. I didn't do any washing and rocked up to work very underdressed and got in trouble. I ran out of food because I didn't do the shopping. I've neglected my friends and my family (which is probably for the best, because if I'd actually exposed myself to any of them their might have been no survivors). I have lost my ability to sleep entirely, my brain has been so intensely focused and processing. I'm exhausted to the point I just about threw up a cup of tea yesterday, and then I stay up till three in the morning working some more. And then I go to work. And then I do it again.
I wrote a 15k first draft in 7 days, which is pretty impressive.
Then I wrote a 25k draft in two days.
I am an incoherent gibbering mess, and so is my poor long suffering infinitely patient partner in crime. When I got up this morning, and checked my email to find a note stating the story had been submitted, I burst into tears. I'll post the details later, when things are confirmed one way or another.
I'm still young enough and dumb enough to try and prove a point, and the point is well proved now;
I AM INVINCIBLE. I CAN DO ANYTHING.
THEN THERE WAS ICE CREAM.