Scarlett Letters

So, basics first. ( If you know about the Hugos and the Sad Puppies, skip this bit )

The awards ceremony
The hosts for the evening were David Gerrold (as previously noted) and Tananarive Due. Tananarive paid tribute to Nichelle Nichols by cosplaying Lt. Uhura; she wore the red mini-dress very well indeed. David paid tribute to the last three Doctors Who by wearing Chucks, a jacket and a bowtie. The evening started with the handing out of fan awards; this year's TAFF award winner did the honors in a charming Austrian accent. Guest speakers during the evening included Connie Willis, because you can't have a Hugo Awards ceremony without her (she was funny and pointed all at once) and Robert Silverberg, who has attended every single Hugo Awards ceremony since the first, whose call for calm was quirky and entertaining (and still a cause for some unhappiness in small corners of fandom :: sigh :: ).

The first award that caused contention (and, I should note, contention that I wasn't aware of until later) was the Best Fan Writer Award. It went to Laura J. Mixon, who did an impressive, extensive investigative report on a blogger calling herself Requires Hate (among other noms de guerre), who had been targeting many writers for pretty significant abuse online. This award caused upset because some fans felt that because Mixon isn't a fan writer in the traditional sense--writing for fanzines and participating in other fan-ac--but a professional fiction writer, she didn't qualify for the category. Mixon gave a stirring acceptance speech, the best of the evening by far, and one that spoke not just to the issue she tackled in her article but to the larger drama that enveloped the Hugos this year as well.

You could feel the tension in the air once the pro awards began to be announced. I think the first No Award of the evening was given in the category of Best Editor, Long Form Best Related Work. The applause was like a crack of thunder, loud and long and enthusiastic. Now, as I noted earlier in this post, there were a LOT of fans who felt that bloc voting violates the spirit of the Hugo Awards; I am among them. When "No Award" was announced in this category, I knew that the applause was in support of this idea. It wasn't because the Puppies didn't win. It was because people believe that bloc voting for the Hugos isn't what the awards are about. Every vote for No Award wasn't against the people who were nominated. It wasn't nearly as much against a particular group of people who nominated but, more importantly, how they went about their nominating process.

As it turned out, No Award was given in four more categories as the evening progressed--a total of five in all, more than in any other year. More than ever in the accumulated history of the Hugo Awards. In the end, it should also be noted, Best Novel, Best Novelette, and the John W. Cambell Award for Best New Writer all went to people of color. For the first time in the award's history, Best Novel went to a novel translated into English. It was, in many ways, a historic year for Hugo.

What I thought about the Hugos and the whole Puppy thing
Predictably, I have some thoughts about this. They are not as deep or involved as the many others who have written on this subject. They are mine. Here they are:

1) I think that bloc voting and advocacy for same violate the spirit of the Hugos. I don't care who the bloc voting is advocating for; I think it's wrong, whether it's a slate dictated by one /V/o/x/ voice insisting that this is the list, the only list, to vote for, or a group of people doing it. Hugo voting should be a matter of personal taste and your vote should be your own, no matter what anyone else says.

2) There is a difference between advocating for a specific list of writers to be voted on in a specific way in specific categories, and recommending a bunch of works that you think people ought to read and consider when filling out a ballot. I agree with the second method; I abhor the first.

3) The world is changing, therefore science fiction and fantasy are changing. Voices from other cultures and upcoming generations are rising and providing different perspectives, telling different stories and raising different issues than the genre has seen before. This is a good thing. Change is what science fiction is about. Our fiction can and should reflect that change.

4) If work by a new voice is good enough to provoke discussion, if the writing is of remarkable quality, if it's entertaining, it should be recognized. Similarly, if a story comes out of science fiction's traditional veins and tells a remarkable story with remarkable quality and it's entertaining, it too should be recognized. But the work, whether by new voices or from SF's older traditions, must be remarkable in some way, whether that's a matter of ground-breaking ideas or brilliant prose. It should knock our socks off. We should have fun with it. It should be making us think in new ways. It should, as Adam-Troy Castro says, blow our minds so completely that we can't think about NOT giving it an award. I like and respect a number of the people who were nominated on the Puppy slates, but much of their work didn't do that for me, and so they didn't get my vote. The works that did--those works got my votes. That's how it should be.

5) Racism sucks. Sexism sucks. Exclusion sucks. None of these things should be part of our Hugo discussions, ever, unless they are part of the ideas in the works being discussed. Discussions about books and Hugo Awards should be about their quality, their ideas, their innovation, their ability to shine new light into old places, their ability to amuse us. The hurling of racial or sexist epithets at individuals or classes of people should not be part of the conversation. The idea that some SF is real and some is fake, the idea that some voices should be heard and others shouldn't be is despicable. Once such epithets appear in conversation, those who throw them are persona non-grata. They should be. The days when such language, such attitudes were acceptable is long past.

6) Read what you dig. Nominate what you dig. Don't judge what anyone else digs. If you disagree about a book's quality, disagree civilly. Discuss civilly. Perhaps even attempt to persuade--but civilly. And if you don't have anything nice to say about another person--remember what your mama said--don't say anything at all.


* George devoted a tag to his Hugo posts; you can go back months to read them all.

Friday at WorldCon started with a delicious, if belated, breakfast at a place called Sante just a couple of blocks from the convention center. A group of us (davidlevine, suricattus, her twinling and the twinling's daughter) walked over as early as we reasonably could. The air smelled of woodsmoke and the sky seemed overcast. It was a harbinger of things to come. The place was lovely, really, with a kind of country French feel to the decor--spare but elegant. I had a delicious meal--pancakes with fluffy raspberry foule (sp?). The conversation was fun. suricattus asked for discussion ideas for her upcoming panel; I asked for ideas for mine. Twinling's daughter showed off some of her artwork. davidlevine showed off the cover art for his upcoming novel from Tor. We talked about the return of the autograph book. Apparently, with the advent of ebooks, people have started keeping autograph books again. I signed one myself at my first panel, as had others at the table. Interesting phenomenon.

Somehow, though the food and company were both quite fine, I never managed to find particularly good humor. The server took a very long time coming to take our order; I was sugar crashing pretty hard; the air was taking its toll; and I very much wanted to get to a 10 AM beading workshop. With the meal coming so late, I wasn't able to leave until 10:10ish, and by the time I got to the convention center, though I hoofed it as hard as I could, the workshop was full and the door was shut.

Disappointed and frustrated, I looked at the pocket program to see what else I might drop in on. There was a panel on aging that interested me, so I sat in there and listened to three authors and neuroscientist discuss the science of aging, the research on same, and our preferences with regard to what kind of heroes we like to read about. Interesting discussion.

After it was over, I wandered around the convention center for a while when a friend stopped me and asked me if I was OK, saying that I didn't look well. At that point, I realized that I felt like a zombie. I stopped by program ops, told them I wouldn't make my 1 PM panel, went back to the room and slept until nearly 2 PM.

One of the high points of the day was my late lunch engagement. I met the delightful desperance, the always entertaining markjferrari, and the ever pleasant calendula_witch at Spencer's, the hotel's steak house. I believe we talked about Mark's latest escapades in the world of publishing. Chaz wrangled an invitation to my home (he had to twist my arm; really, there was violence). It was all very silly and exactly perfect. I believe that I owe Mark at least a meal, or possibly a bottle of good wine. I think we probably went until 3 or 3:30ish. My meal compatriots had to be off.

I don't actually remember what I did after lunch. Strolled the con a bit more? Attended more programming? No freaking' idea. What I do remember is that eventually it was time to go to bedii's memorial, to be held outside by a large Japanese sculpture at one end of the convention center. The air had gotten nearly toxic outside. All the smoke from the Okanogan and Upper Skagit Complex fires was taking its toll. The sky was yellow/brown, the sun a peachy-red ball, the air full of grit and mustiness. The convention (or the convention center, I'm not sure which) had put up warning signs about the air hazard. I was surprised, actually, that we were still going to do this out of doors, but the choice wasn't mine to make and so I went with it.

Apocalyptic Spokane: so smoky that the sky was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel. Click to embiggen.


We all met by the sculpture, a group of maybe 12 of us, and told stories about bedii, just remembering. It was a good thing and I'm glad I was there. At the same time, I couldn't stay there too long; the air began to really take a toll, and we headed inside after about 30-45 minutes. At that point, we all went our separate ways.

davidlevine and I headed over to the Book View Cafe party. David does key work with BVC and awesome people are involved with said effort, so being there was important. Awesome people included madrobins, suricattus and a bunch of names already mentioned above, plus a whole other crowd of lovely people. Mad made a three-tiered cake in honor of Vonda McIntyre featuring a sweet mermaid made of fondant. The cake was a delicious thing.

Our second stop was the Fairwood Press party with many more wonderful people in attendance. bjcooper was celebrating the release of her new collection of short stories, among others. Patrick Swenson always throws a good bash. I met a couple of people whose names I've known but never met in person. A good time.

In all the years I've known bjcooper, we've never taken a picture together. Voila! Problem solved.


As happens at these things, you don't realize that you're hitting the wall until you hit the wall. We met some friends and headed out, getting a lift back to the hotel at exactly the right moment. I didn't realize it until later, but my pink denim jacket came away smelling like smoke.

It was an interesting experience, WorldCon, this year. In hindsight, it feel like I was there and I wasn't, all at once. For me, it started off with a date SNAFU. The plan was that my friend BM was going to fly in from New York and we were going to drive across the state together. I thought she was arriving Tuesday night for a Wednesday morning departure. It turned out that she was arriving Wednesday night for a Thursday morning departure. That right there threw me. Now, here's the thing: I don't remember a conversation we clearly had about this timing, because when I double-checked, my hotel room reservation started on Thursday, not Wednesday. But I'd envisioned the convention start to finish, and I'd made plans as if I were arriving on Wednesday. All of this meant that I made plans that I had to cancel, which was disheartening. But I couldn't leave her stranded with no way to get across the state. So, from my perspective, the trip started late and weirdly.

We road-trip well together, BM and I, and it was a good traverse. There are those who say that Washington state, east of the mountains, is a whole lotta nuthin', but it's a constantly changing landscape with its own sere beauty and I enjoy the journey. I always enjoy stopping to see "Grandfather Cuts Loose the Ponies," also called Wild Horse Monument. The view at the link is different than the view that most folks (including me) generally get--from below and away, where you look up and see the ponies high on a bluff against the sky. It's beautiful regardless of your perspective and a lovely stop for viewing and a stretch of the legs. You also get a beautiful view of the Columbia River from above, and the striated rock walls on the other side of the water.

Click the pics to embiggen.




We also stopped in George, Washington (yes, really) for lunch. We ate at a food truck where the Mexican food was plentiful and delicious. We met a couple who have spent the last two years living out of a blue-and-white Shasta trailer, a tiny thing that they've used to travel the country. They were headed in the opposite direction, off to Seattle. I gave them advice on a couple of things to see in town (they wanted to see Pike Place Market and the Space Needle; I told them about the Ballard Locks and the food trucks in Westlake Center).



After lunch, it was on to Spokane. See the next rock for details (to be posted later today sometime).

I'm in Las Vegas. WorldCon has come and gone and, for the most part, I had a terrific time. Got to spend time with kradical and terri_osborne , suricattus, jaylake, ATC and wife, BC and FM, and BM among others, along with a cast of thousands. Enjoyed the masquerade (though the best presentations—a recreation of the trailer for The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra and a bit called Dancing with Celebrities from the Stars were completely robbed in the judging), but otherwise did not get to programming at all. Sent some time in the SFWA suite, catching up but not schmoozing. I did do a little damage in the dealer's room, picking up a birthday gift for one friend, a holiday gift for another, and several books for myself. I also added to my collection of jewelry by Willow Zarlow, a sterling silver ring with an ivy leaf setting featuring a faceted iolite stone. For the first time ever, I completely missed the art show, and I regret it hugely.

I did, however, spend a perfectly terrific day at Disneyland and Disney's California Adventure with my most excellent, patient, and generous roommate, skidspoppe. At Disney, we did (of course) The Haunted Mansion and Pirates of the Caribbean. I will admit that an animatronic Johnny Depp is a little odd, especially given he appears three times throughout the course of the ride; so is the animatronic Geoffrey Rush. But the ride was fun; there was so much I didn't remember from the first time I went through it. It was practically new to me, which was nice. The Haunted Mansion has been spiffed up a bit (thanks to bedii for the heads-up on that). The crystal ball reader's crystal now floats through the air—a nifty effect—among other changes.

Like me, Skids is a pennysmasher, so he became my accomplice in the attempt to complete my want list of elongateds at the park. So much fun to go penny rolling with someone who appreciates the finer points of a good smashing experience. ::grin:: We couldn't find a couple of the machines we wanted; I think they may have been off stage. But we found a couple of machines that hadn't been priorities for me which turned out to have such nice designs that I couldn't walk away without smashing. In the end, I was satisfied with my haul, and I have quite a bit of organizing to do when I get home.

I've been to DCA before, but never really had proper time to poke around and ride anything much. Skids very supportively herded me onto the Twilght Zone Tower of Terror, and I screamed like a little girl as we rode up and down this thing. I don't regret doing it, but it took a lot to get me to do it at all. It was by far the most, um, memorable moment of DCA for me. :-)

The only drawback of the entire weekend was that our other roommate arrived at the convention sick. Though I felt bad for her, I was really worried about getting sick myself, especially when she mentioned her sore throat. I still have my tonsils, which seems to make me susceptible to every throat virus out there. Well, as of this morning, my throat is sore, I have laryngitis, and I'm concentrating very hard on staying vertical. I'm deeply unhappy about being sick on vacation. I won't let it stop me from doing what I want to do, but it's hugely frustrating, given that my time is limited and I won't get another real vacation for quite some time to come.

So, I'm here in Vegas. I'm staying at the Luxor on the fourth floor of the pyramid. Though the room includes broad, slanted windows, I have no real view to speak of, which is just fine, actually. The room is nice. I'll probably spend a little more time here than I hoped to, feeling the way I do. But there's Internet and TV, and I'll have some time to read, of which there never seems to be enough these days. Perhaps the illness has an upside. (A tiny little upside.)

Last night, through the well-connected offices of Uncle Skids, I went with him, his girlfriend J, and his parents to see Penn & Teller. I've always liked the stuff I've seen them do on TV, but seeing them live is a whole other experience. Between the water tank that produced cascades of coins and an enormous school of goldfish out of nowhere, and the excellent (and pointed) flag-burning routine (my two favorites of the whole show), there was fire-eating, shadow illusions, knife "throwing," magical floating hankies and a gun-and-bullet illusion that I've stopped trying to figure out. Interspersed with brainy, funny patter, the show just flew and I enjoyed it hugely. Afterwards, we stayed to meet P&T at least briefly. I picked up a copy of Penn's novel Sock and asked him sign it. I spoke briefly with Teller and told him how much I enjoyed seeing not only that night's show but also seeing him do his Silent Movie Monday gig a couple of years ago in Seattle, when he read the narration to Faust. A really lovely evening.

From here, Skids, J and I will be hitting the Hilton to do the current incarnation of the Star Trek Experience; tonight, my friend M will join us to go see The Amazing Johnathan, which should be fun. I've got a massage scheduled for tomorrow and I'm hoping to see either Cirque du Soleil's Ka (half-price tickets for which are available here at the hotel) or Blue Man Group.

Of course, I have no idea what kind of shape I'm going to be in for any of this. I'm already feeling as though I've spent a little too much time upright this morning; getting woozy. But I've taken some Dayquil and am hoping it will kick in before J picks me up. Wish me luck.