Baby Is Three

April 20

I lost the Nebula award. It wasn't unexpected, and I wasn't terribly saddened -- sure, it's a cliché to say it's an honor to be nominated, but I'm only 26 years old, and damn, it really is an honor to be nominated, to have my story be counted among a handful of the best of the year, to hear my name read at the podium. And if someone had to beat me, I'm glad it was Carol Emshwiller -- she's been doing this for a long time, and she deserves to get a Nebula! She'd never even been nominated before! While I, lord willing and the river don't rise, have many decades ahead of me in which to write another good story. Guess I should get to work on that...

I'll do a real con report later this week, with a couple of pictures, even -- I'm too sleepy to get into it now. The con was, overall, a very good experience, though I'm dead sick of being on airplanes. Philadelphia's a long way from Oakland. The actual being-on-the-ground (not-in-an-airport) parts were largely lovely, though.

Now, for the usual writerly bits -- I wrote 1100 words on the Frog novel on the plane on the way home today, and that's all the writing I've done for the past several days. I hope to get more into the usual swing this week, though I also need to put together an issue of Star*Line and write a couple of reviews, and get started on my graphic novel reviews, so don't expect Herculean things of me. It will be busy. But I don't mind busy, for the most part. I came home this evening to two rejections, one from Quarterly West (form), one from Asimov's (personal, with Gardner saying the story was good but not for him, and congratulating me on the Nebula nomination). So the writerly wheels grind ever onward!

And, of course, I should note -- baby is three. Tropism was born April 20th, 2000, and it's stumbled on more-or-less steadily since then. I'm glad you're all here reading it. And if you just got here -- wow. You've got a lot of archives to read!

Somebody's got to say it all.

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