The "Best of 2010" lists have continued to come in, and I'm totally amazed and delighted to find that I keep appearing on them. Who'd have thought, right? First, the big one:

FEED won the 2010 Goodreads Choice Award for Best Science Fiction Book!

Oh my sweet pumpkin and pie, you guys, I won! I mean...holy cats!!! This is totally exciting, and totally amazing, and I am so overjoyed. I'm going to see about getting some new wallpapers up, to celebrate.

Moving on to the next item on my list, I actually wrote two of Bookbanter's top fifteen books of 2010, with Feed coming in at #1, and An Artificial Night coming in at #9. Where's the love? There's the love. Oooooh, yeah.

Oh, and also? Both Feed and An Artificial Night appear in the 2010 Powell's Books Staff Picks, which is pretty much entirely bad-ass and amazing and I am so totally over-the-moon.

Is this a mostly content-free post? Yes, this is, although, you know, lots of squealing and delight on my part. But I am so jet-lagged from my attempts to escape from the snowy wilds of Georgia (not a sentence I have many occasions to use) that this is about all I'm capable of. More actual substance later. For now, please accept this sizzle in place of steak.

At least it's pretty sizzle, right? So pretty...

Best of!

Hugo and Nebula nominations are now open. In both cases, works are eligible if they were published in the calendar year preceding this one (2010), and carry requirements for voter eligibility. Statistically speaking, you'll probably know if you're eligible to vote. For the Hugos, you need to have been a member of Aussiecon IV (WorldCon 2010) or a member of Renovation (Worldcon 2011) to nominate. For the Nebulas, you must be an active or associate member of SFWA.

Short stories.

* "Dying With Her Cheer Pants On."
* "Everglades."

Technically, all of "Sparrow Hill Road" is eligible, but I recommend looking at "Good Girls Go To Heaven," "Last Dance With Mary Jane," "Faithfully," or "Thunder Road" if you were considering nominating one of these.

Novels.

* A Local Habitation.
* An Artificial Night.
* Feed (as Mira Grant).

...it's a little scary, seeing my 2010 book publications boiled down to something that streamlined. It's also a little scary realizing that I published three books in 2010. I need a nap.

Best Related Work.

* Chicks Dig Timelords (I was a contributor, along with many others).

I am no longer eligible for the Campbell Award, although I will be in Reno to pass the tiara to the next honored recipient.

To be quite honest, it would be an honor beyond reckoning, and also the scariest thing in the history of ever, if I were nominated for a Hugo award. For anything, really. I'm proud of pretty much everything I did in 2010, including my failure to faint during the Hugo Award Ceremony in Australia. I think Feed may be the most solid stand-alone book I have ever written, so there's that.

Anyway, that's my eligibility. I'll try to have more in this listing next year.

It's the holiday season, and nice things are vital to our continued equilibrium. Equilibrium is nice! And so I present you with some nice things, to maintain this blessed state.

First of all, The Toby Wallpapers and Icons page has been updated over on my website. You can now download some basic wallpapers and icons for Late Eclipses, as well as wallpapers and icons for Nebelbann (the German edition of A Local Habitation). Plus there's a fantastic new wallpaper/icon set for An Artificial Night, showing dear Katie, all toned in beautiful blues and whites.

Second of all, the cover for Late Eclipses has been nominated as one of the Beautiful Book Covers of 2011. While I'd love it if you'd go and vote for me, this counts as a nice thing because some of these covers are truly gorgeous, and I hadn't seen the majority of them before. I'm really excited about the books coming out in 2011! It's going to be a banner year for reading.

Third of all, because I am me and I truly do regard this as "a nice thing," here is a list of really cute animals that will seriously fuck you up if given the opportunity to do so. Hooray! Some of these animals are really cute. And all of them are really included to make you wish that you'd never been born. I tend to regard this as awesome.

Happy Wednesday!

The nominees for the 2010 Goodreads Choice Awards have been announced, and PRAISE THE GREAT PUMPKIN, I've been nominated not once, but twice!!! To quote the email sent to inform me of this delicious little slice of awesome...

"The Goodreads Choice Awards reflect what readers like. There were no secret committees. We did not defer to experts or look at book sales or previous awards. Goodreads nominated 15 books in 23 categories by analyzing statistics about books read by our members from the 47 million books added, rated, and reviewed on the site in 2010. Official nominees were selected based on a book's popularity and average rating among Goodreads members, so a nomination is truly an honor because it comes from your readers!"

So thank you, readers! And, you know. Cats, or whoever else may have decided to put my books into their system. I've been nominated in two different categories: Feed, written under the name "Mira Grant," is up for the Goodreads Choice Award for Science Fiction, and An Artificial Night is up for a Goodreads Choice Award for Paranormal Fantasy. The polls are open to all readers for the entire month of December, and the winners will be announced in January. Specifically, on January 5th. My birthday.

An award would be so much cooler than a card. I'm just saying. Here are the links to the respective voting pages:

http://www.goodreads.com/award/choice#41650-Science-Fiction
http://www.goodreads.com/award/choice/2010#41647-Paranormal-Fantasy

So anyway, pass the word, cast your votes, and if I win either (or both), I'll do something interesting for your amusement. Because that's just the kind of girl I am.

Awards!

Dear Great Pumpkin;

Another harvest season has come and gone, rich with tricks, treats, and unexplained disappearances in the haunted cornfield. I hope you have been well. Since my last letter to you, I have not wiped out mankind with a genetically engineered pandemic, or challenged any major religious figures to duels to the death in the public square. I have loved my friends and refrained from destroying my enemies. I have given out hugs, cupcakes, and cuddles with kittens freely and without hesitation. I have offered support when I could, and comfort when it was needed. I have not unleashed my scarecrow army to devastate North America. I have continued to make all my deadlines, even the ones I most wanted to avoid. I have not "accidentally" put tapeworm eggs in anyone's food. So as you can see, I've pretty much been a saint, by our somewhat lax local standards.

Today, Great Pumpkin, I am asking for the following gifts:

* A smooth and successful release for Late Eclipses, with books shipping when they're meant to ship, stores putting them out when they're supposed to put them out, and reviews that are accurate, insightful, and capable of steering people who will enjoy my book to read it. Please, Great Pumpkin, show mercy on your loving Pumpkin Princess of the West, and let it all be wonderful. I'm not asking you to make it easy, Great Pumpkin, but I'm asking you to make it good.

* Please let me make the revisions to One Salt Sea and Discount Armageddon smoothly, satisfyingly, and in a timely fashion, hopefully including a minimum of typographical and factual errors, plus a maximum level of awesome and win. If this request seems familiar, Great Pumpkin, it's because I make it just about every time I have a new book on the table, and this time is doubly important. One Salt Sea concludes a major arc in Toby's story, and Discount Armageddon kicks off a whole new series. I want them both to be amazing. Pretty please with candy corn on top?

* While I'm at it, please let the next books in their respective series be up to my admittedly nearly-impossible standards for myself. Let Ashes of Honor be exciting and worth the commitment, let Midnight Blue-Light Special be peppy and perfect in its insanity, and let Blackout seal the deal on the Newsflesh universe. It's wonderful to be working on three totally new books. It's also terrifying. There's a period at the start of a novel, where I'm trying to chip the shape of the story out of nothing, that's just scary as hell, and I'm there times three right now. Please show mercy, and let this work.

* I thank you for Alice's return to health, Great Pumpkin, and ask for your blessings as she continues her recovery. I thought I was going to lose her. I'm still shaky when I think about it. Please let her keep getting better, and please let her be exactly the same goofy, graceless cat that she's always been. While you're at it, please make sure Lilly and Thomas stay healthy, and that Thomas continues his incredible, faintly frightening growth. I think he doubles in size once a week. It's awesome. Look out for my cats, Great Pumpkin. They mean the world to me.

* As I approach the 2011 convention season, I ask for your blessings. Let things be smooth when they can, and let me take that which is not smooth with good humor, good grace, and a good sense of restraint. Let me be clever when I need to be, calm when I need to be, and a good guest for everyone who has been kind enough to invite me to their convention. Let me be the kind of guest that is remembered with joy, not the kind who is remembered with glum "and then there was the year of the great tragedy" stories.

* Thank you, thank you, thank you again for shining your holy candle upon the Campbell Award, Great Pumpkin. I hope only that I did you proud with my acceptance speech, and that you are pleased with my endeavors. It may be a little forward of me to point this out, but Feed is eligible for both the Nebula and Hugo Awards this year, and, well...any assistance you wanted to throw my way would be very much appreciated. I think my mother would catch fire if I came home with either award, and that would be fun to watch.

I remain your faithful Halloween girl,
Seanan.

PS: While you're at it, can you please make Oasis get back to me? I'd really like to be done with Wicked Girls before I'm done with 2010.

I'm a Zombie Girl,
In a Zombie wo-oo-orld,
I'm decaying,
But I'm staying!

Out of mercy to the sensitive souls among you, I will stop there. See how merciful I can be? When I remember that other people don't necessarily enjoy cannibalism before breakfast? Then again, when one is attempting to build a better pain chart (thank you, Hyperbole and a Half), sometimes it's necessary to find out where the limits are.

I'm in a very Mira mood today, maybe because it's gray and raining, maybe because my weekend is like a katamari, and full of things, and maybe because, drullroll please...

FEED is a 2010 Romantic Times Reviewers' Choice Nominee in the Science Fiction Category! (For a slightly more compact ballot, focusing on the paranormal and science fiction nominees, check this link.)

I am, like, crazy-excited over this, because this is a really big deal. The Romantic Times Reviewers' Choice Awards are a great bellwether of quality and awesomeness, and this is my first time appearing on the ballot. I'm truly, totally jazzed. So, y'know. Fingers crossed and the apocalypse doesn't come!

PANDEMIC DANCE PARTY FOR EVERYBODY!

The Pegasus Awards for Excellence in Filking are given out each year at the Ohio Valley Filk Festival. This the biggest award in the filk world; when trying to explain them to non-filkers (or even new filkers), it's often said that the Pegasus Awards are "the Hugos of filk." This is not inaccurate. It's a major award in the filk world, with a ballot nominated and voted on by the community.

Every year, there are four "standard" categories—Best Song, Best Classic (for songs more than ten years old), Best Performer, and Best Writer/Composer—and two "floating" categories, which change from ballot to ballot. Floating categories can range from general, like "Best Parody" or "Best Love Song," to extremely specific...like this year's floating categories, "Best Magic Song" and "Best Mad Science Song."

I was at the Skin Horse volume two release party when Amy and Vixy both sent me text messages to inform me that "What A Woman's For," my song about the virtues of being Dr. Frankie's little helper when the world just has to be destroyed, had won the Pegasus Award for Mad Science. Yes. I got an award for Mad Science, at least in song form.

TREMBLE, PUNY MORTALS! TREMBLE, FOR SOON I AND MY GENETICALLY-ALTERED ARMY OF FLESH-RENDING PEGASI WILL COME FOR YOU IN THE NIGHT! THOSE FOOLS LAUGHED AT ME AT THE ACADEMY, BUT THEY'LL PAY! THEY'LL PAY! OH, HOW THEY'LL PAY!

...ahem. And also, thank you to everyone who voted, and squee! Pegasus! Congratulations to all the 2010 ballot winners, especially my frequent musical partner in crime, Paul Kwinn, who won the Pegasus for Best Magic Song. Life is good.

I'm so happy.

I'll have better things later today (and things which include slightly more in the way of "actual coherence"), but I was out late last night, and a nice big pot of link soup is currently about my speed. Yum, yum, link soup. Anyway...

SFX Magazine conducted this fun interview with me in my guise as Mira Grant with me at this year's San Diego International Comic Con, which means they transcribed my actual speech, thus leading to a lot of exclamation points. They had some fun new questions. I heartily approve.

And while we're in the Mira part of the library, Fantasy Magazine posted this excellent review of Feed. It's a fun read, even if it doesn't provide any good pull quotes for me to share with the rest of the class.

Pseudo Emo Teen posted a lovely review of Feed, and says, "Let me start out by saying: Feed is one of the best, if not the best, book I have read in long time." Okay, you know, that works for me. Let's just go with that.

Sometimes it's nice to get interviewed in my guise as, you know, me. So here's a fun interview that was conducted before my trip to Australia, during which I talk about the Campbell and the destruction of mankind. You know, the usual jibber-jabber around these parts. (The lovely lady who interviewed me posted her review of Feed after I won the Campbell, and you should read that, too.)

And now for something completely different...a review of Grants Pass, the first anthology I ever actually sold a story to. They call out my story, which makes this relevant. Also, it's a bad-ass anthology, and if you like horror, you should totally read it.

When last we left our intrepid heroes, Jeanne and I were heading to the auditorium where the Hugo Ceremony was being held, so that we could acquire a sufficient number of seats for our (admittedly large) group of people. We had, by that point, myself, Jeanne, Cat, Gretchen, Jay, Shannon, Daniel, and Keli, all of whom were basically "required human to prevent destruction of mankind." This is quite a lot of seats, so really, it makes sense that we took off the way we did.

Even with our early arrival, we wound up two seats short. Cat and I took the seats in the main row (where we would have a clear shot at the stage, should it be needed), while Jeanne and Gretchen sat right behind us, allowing for hand-holding and hysteria, despite the technical separation. Hyperventilation commenced.

Eventually, everyone was present and in their seats, and the lights were dimmed for the Hugo Ceremony to begin. Garth Nix, the MC, came out and told a funny story about how he was chosen to be the MC. At least, I think it was funny. I was mostly focused on hyperventilating without passing out. It's fun! Then came the video presentation of the year's "highlights in science fiction." This included, among other things, the book covers and author pictures of all the year's nominees.

They showed my book. And my face. On the big big big screen at the Hugos. This would be the point in the ceremony where I started to cry for the first time.

After the video came the First Fandom Big Heart Award, which, while not a Hugo, is given out during the Hugos. Please note that the Campbell Award is given before any of the actual Hugos (but after the Big Heart Award), and this little additional delay was enough to make me more of a nervous wreck than I already was. Now consider that Cat's category, Best Novel, was the last of the night, and she was still together enough to make soothing noises and pat my hand. Woman is a rock when she's gotta be, that's all I'm saying here.

The Big Heart was given. John Scalzi and Jay Lake took the stage, along with Kathryn Daugherty, the year's administrator (and someone who's known me since I was fourteen), who was holding the actual Campbell, turned against her chest to hide the writing. Jay and John explained the award, along with fun facts like "where the Campbell pin came from" (thank you, Jay and Spring), and "who thought up the tiara" (thank you, Elizabeth Bear). The names of the nominees were read out. I discovered the heretofore unknown ability to taste sounds and pray in sign language (hint: I can finger-spell "please, Great Pumpkin" faster than I can spell my own name).

(Also, wow, the screaming when they said my name was amazing. I mean, everyone got cheers and applause, but if you listen to the ceremony on playback, I think people actually blew the levels screaming when they said my name. Cue second tears of the evening.)

"And the winner of the 2010 Campbell Award for Best New Writer is..."

I clutched Cat's hand so hard my fingers hurt.

"...Seanan McGuire."

I kept clutching Cat's hand, because let's face it, when you can taste sounds, you're going to be like Cordelia in that episode where she was in the running to be Homecoming Queen: you'll think they said your name even if they've just announced "No Award" as the winner. Cat pushed me to your feet. "That's you."

The processional music for the Campbell was the theme from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Kathryn, Jay, and John were all beaming like they'd been the ones to win. I was mostly chanting "Oh my God" over and over again, that being roughly the limits of my mental acuity at that particular moment in time. They put the tiara on my head, and I was rightly crowned the Princess of the Kingdom of Poison and Flame.

All hailed.

My acceptance speech was a bit disjointed, at least in part because I was so focused on clinging, lamprey-like, to the Campbell. I did say that John and Jay were mistaken when they said that people wearing the (star-shaped) Campbell pin weren't the sheriff: "I just think y'all should know, I actually am the sheriff." So congratulations, my six-year-old self: you got to wear a pretty dress, become a princess, and be sheriff, all in one night. Next up, the planet of eternal Halloween, and maybe a pony.

I explained how, when I was seven, I said I wanted to grow up to be a Timelord, and everyone was okay with that, because no one knew what that was, and how everyone was a lot less okay a few years later, when I said I wanted to be a science fiction writer, because "girls don't do that" (and also I would wind up living in a cardboard box). I thanked the Great Pumpkin, which may well be a Hugo first. I thanked some other people. I lost the ability to form coherent words, and fled the stage as quickly as three-inch heels and a floor-length skirt would allow.

I admit, I spent the rest of the ceremony watching my award as much as I watched the stage (and also, getting the tiara caught in Cat's hair, at one point during the proceedings). People won things; we cheered. I cheered especially loudly when Will McIntosh won Best Short Story, since I'd had dinner with him the night before, and he was an absolute doll, and when Phil and Kaja Foglio won Best Graphic Story, because c'mon, it's Phil and Kaja. Favoritism? On occasion, yes. But at least my biases are public knowledge.

Cat didn't win Best Novel. But she did clutch my hand just as hard as I'd clutched hers, and thus was symmetry maintained.

After the ceremony, the winners and presenters had to stick around for a lengthy photo session on the stage (some of the pictures appear in this month's issue of Locus, which I need to buy multiple copies of, since otherwise, my mother will end me). Meanwhile, the other nominees, and their plus-ones, decamped for the Hugo After-Party. After all the pictures were finished, Jeanne and I joined them, dragging John Grace (my audiobook publisher) in our wake.

At the party: booze! Yay! Also prizes from next year's WorldCon, in Reno, and trays of actual food, which I finally felt competent enough to consume. Ellen Kushner came over and admired my Campbell. I squealed a lot, and wound up at a big table full of people I adored, sipping champagne, wearing my tiara, and loving the night.

Every time someone asked me if I was ecstatic, I replied, "I'll be ecstatic tomorrow, when I wake up and it's Monday." Ah, the joys of feeling vaguely like you're living in a dreamworld. Nothing is every quite as real as it seems, until it's over.

When we were all champagne-ed out, we went back to the Hilton Bar for more serious drinks (which were serious). On the way, I stopped to use the bathroom, and was then waylaid by a lookout for the filkers. "Are you going to come up?" he asked. "Kate's waiting for you to sign her book."

I said I could, but only for a few minutes, as Jeanne had my shoes, and up we went. The circle was singing "Hope Eyrie" when we entered the room. Half of them stopped singing to applaud, making me turn beet red and flap my hands in negation. (Thankfully, no one was mad at me for interrupting the song, since I clearly hadn't meant to.) I signed Kate's book. I was asked to sing before leaving, and, since Kathleen was there, sang "Burn It Down" with more fervency than I had ever managed before. My fear was on the fire, baby, and it was going down.

Fleeing, I rejoined the others at the Hilton, and had another round of hugs and joy with the folks who hadn't been able to attend the after-party. Then it was up to Cat's room to put our real clothes back on (and pluck the pins from my hair) before Jeanne and I walked back to our own hotel, to sleep.

Jennifer woke up long enough to say "Congratulations, lady," and went back to sleep.

For the first time in days, so did I.

(Yes, part of me is still in Australia. Specifically, the part of me that's responsible for writing up this trip report. This entry is going to take us through Sunday, right up until the end of the pre-Hugo Cocktail Party. Not because I'm trying to be a tease. Because the Hugos themselves need a whole entry, just so I can explain, in depth, what was going through my messed-up little head.)

Sunday dawned bright and early, again, with an extra dose of sheer blind "oh sweet Great Pumpkin the Hugos are TONIGHT, they're giving out the Campbell Award TONIGHT, why am I not drinking heavily RIGHT NOW?!" panic. I love my psyche sometimes. Anyway, blah blah, showers, blah blah, straightening my hair into a shiny, manageable state. Fun for the whole family.

Once we were ready to leave our hotel room, Jeanne and I packed up everything we were going to need for Hugo prep in the smaller of my two pink-camo suitcases. That may sound like overkill, but once you factor in dresses, underclothes, makeup, brushes, small appliances, shoes, makeup, and other items needed by the two of us, well...if either of us had been wearing a more fabric-heavy dress, we would have needed a larger suitcase.

The suitcase accompanied us to breakfast, and from breakfast, to Cat's hotel, where we checked it with the concierge. All hail good hotels! With this accomplished, it was time for the second order of business: confirming that I had been removed from my five o'clock panel. I hate to do that sort of thing, but I really needed to be getting ready for the Hugos by then, since the pre-Hugo reception started at six. (Basically, it was "drop the panel" or "attend the Hugos naked.")

After dropping the panel, we swung by the Green Room, where I had one of my few unpleasant at-con experiences as a woman informed me, with great good cheer, that the Hugos were on Sunday night because they wanted to see how many of the nominees would actually break down and cry. Thanks, lady. Jeanne didn't hit her. I was very proud of Jeanne, and not just because "get thrown out of the Green Room" wasn't on my list of things to do that day.

We wandered the convention for a while before proceeding to my one remaining panel of the day, "YA Urban Fantasy." I was happy to be on the panel, if only because it provided a window into that beautiful future where I've sold the Clady books and can legitimately call myself a YA author. Plus, it meant I got to hang out with Karen Healey (best last name ever). I brought her a My Little Pony from my stable, because she'd expressed a fondness for Ponies, and I like to share. She was properly appreciative of the Pony, thus securing herself an eternal place in my heart. Yay!

The panel was cool, too.

After the panel, Jeanne and I made our way back to Cat's hotel to start getting ready. Cue increasing terror. Cat met us at the door in her bathrobe. "Close your eyes," she commanded.

I am an obedient blonde. I closed my eyes, and let her lead me into the room...where an entire bed was covered in tiaras. Big tiaras, little tiaras, fancy tiaras, less fancy tiaras (because all tiaras are inherently fancy, at least to some degree), tiaras.

"We wanted to make sure that no matter what, you went home with a tiara," she said.

I laughed because it was that or start crying, and I knew that if I started, I was never going to stop, ever. The tiaras were beautiful, and just made moreso by the sentiment behind them. You guys. Thank you so much.

Cat's friend Gretchen was also there, and the four of us started our respective "getting ready" cycles. Four fairy tale girls, no waiting. Gretchen looked like a punk-rock Red Riding Hood. I could easily have believed Jeanne spinning straw into gold. Cat, as always, was my sweet and stained Snow White, and I was a Grecian Lily Fair, with ice on my eyelids and a prayer pressed to my heart. Cat didn't have any good luck charms on her; I gave her my silver sixpence, and taped it to her foot with a Band-Aid. I put on earrings made by Beckett and tucked the two-dollar coin I found in San Francisco into the front of my strapless bra.

After checking Twitter, Cat announced that the Night Kitchen in Seattle was having a Hugo party. All those people, staying up just to find out what happened. It was amazing. So much love from across the world. I can't describe what it meant to me to learn that. No matter what, we were nowhere near alone.

Gretchen and Jeanne did a very good job of juggling their high-strung pumpkin princesses until Susan arrived to do our hair, and put on her Sooj playlist to provide background music. We all sang along with "Ship Full of Monsters" as Susan got me pinned into place, and "Pixie Can't Sleep" while she worked on Cat (who looked amazing, by the way, in her gown of royal oceanic blue). It took forever to get us all ready to go. It took no time at all. It was like we blinked, and we had to go, because the pre-Hugo reception was getting ready to start. After days and weeks and months of wondering, the hour was finally nigh.

Dude.

Aussiecon 4's pre-Hugo reception was sponsored by Orbit, which meant that the owner of my publishing house was there, and also that there was a lot of free champagne. I mean a lot of free champagne. It's a measure of my Irish heritage (and unwillingness to force myself to visit the restroom in my floor-length dress) that I did not wind up roaring drunk, given my tendency to drink cold liquids really, really fast, and the way people kept trying to hand me fresh glasses.

We milled around, admiring people's outfits, posing for pictures, and generally being sociable, until it was time to do the photo ops for the various trade publications. Unfortunately, the microphone really didn't work well enough for a room that size, and, well...let's just say that those of us who have served as SCA Heralds in the past rapidly came out of the medieval closet, yelling our heads off as we herded nominees into place. I got to have my picture taken with my Campbell class. It was amazing.

And then it was time to go. Time for the Hugos. Jeanne and I struck out at the head of the party, so that we could grab a sufficient number of seats.

Wow, was I nowhere near ready. And wow, did that not matter anymore.

You guys.

This is so hard to write. I've literally started this post eight times, and deleted it every time, and started over, trying to find the words I want. Words are usually something that I find pretty easy—sometimes too easy, as my tendency to never shut the hell up can testify. Not right now. Right now, the words are very hard. So very hard.

I spent most of this year's WorldCon in a cheerful fugue state, throwing myself into things as hard as I could in order to keep from thinking about the Hugo Awards. Jeanne, Cat, Rob, Liz, Paul, Mondy, Jay, Shannon, John, seriously, thank you so much, because if you hadn't been there, I would probably have spontaneously combusted. As it was, it was occasionally difficult not to ask how people could be so damn calm when the votes were in and there was nothing we could do and why couldn't we just know already?

Sunday, Jeanne, Gretchen, and I descended on Cat's hotel room to get ready for the Hugos. Cat met us at the door, and ordered me to close my eyes. I am a trusting blonde; I closed my eyes. She led me into the main room, and let me open my eyes, to find myself facing a bed covered in tiaras. Covered in tiaras. "Because," she said, "your friends wanted to be sure that no matter what, you went home with a tiara."

You guys.

I love you so much.

Susan came to do our hair. We put on dresses and makeup and nail polish and smiles, like nothing about the night mattered...and to a degree, right then, it didn't. We sang along to "Firebird's Child" and "Ship Full of Monsters," and the Night Kitchen in Seattle filled with people watching the live feed and sending all their love across the sea. We were together, and the world was full of magic, and we went to the reception and drank free champagne and had people tell us how amazing we looked, and it was amazing. (Cat and I managed, totally accidentally, to acquire dresses in basically the same colors. I felt like I should have brought her a corsage.)

Then we went to the actual award ceremony. Cat and I sat in the second row; Gretchen and Jeanne sat right behind us. The order of the evening was "opening speech, video presentation, First Fandom Award, Big Heart Award, Campbell Award." Jay Lake and John Scalzi presented the Campbell. They took the stage together, and explained the tiara, and read the nominees, and I clutched Cat's hand like the audience was an ocean and I was going to go under. Kathryn Daugherty came out, holding the award, name turned toward her so no one could see it. John opened the envelope.

"And the winner of this year's John W. Campbell Award for best new writer is..."

And they said my name.

And I sat there, because the room was spinning and I could taste sounds and they couldn't mean me. And Cat pushed me to my feet, and everyone was clapping, and I walked to the stage while the Buffy: the Vampire Slayer theme played and the room spun and tears made everything blurry, and I just said "Oh my God" over and over again, because there was nothing else in the whole world that I could say. And Kathryn gave me the plaque, and John and Jay gave me hugs, and they put the tiara on my head, and you guys...oh, you guys...

I am the Princess of the Kingdom of Poison and Flame. I am the 2010 Campbell Award winner. I am the first urban fantasist to win the Campbell Award. Because they said my name.

I will be more coherent soon. I will write about my acceptance speech soon. I will stop gasping a little every time I see the tiara soon. But oh, you guys.

I won.

Um. Um. Um. Okay. Look:

The NPR List of 100 Killer Thrillers has been released.

HOLY CRAP YOU GUYS LOOK LOOK AT #74 LOOK AT IT LOOK THAT'S MY BOOK THAT I WROTE THAT'S FEED ON A LIST PUBLISHED BY NPR HOLY CRAP.

...okay, I'm better now. Sorry about that. Except that I'm neither better nor sorry, but I am fairly convinced that I've been asleep for the last two years. If I wake up and this has all been a really detailed linear dream, I'm taking my brain out behind the woodshed. I'm just saying.

I mean, this isn't the first awesome Feed-related thing that's happened. Consider, if you will, io9's top picks for summer reading. Sure, the summer's almost over, but there's still a little warm weather left in which to enjoy a good zombie apoca—WHO AM I KIDDING WITH THE CALM RATIONALITY?! MY BOOK THAT I WROTE IS ON A LIST PUBLISHED BY NPR HOLY CRAP.

I love this book so much, and I love that my weird science fiction dystopian political thriller full of zombies is actually getting out there and infecting the world with its, well, weirdness and its virology and I am so excited I could just about scream right now. Because HOLY CRAP. That's going to be my refrain today, I swear. HOLY CRAP.

I leave you with the meme your meme could smell like, an awesome Old Spice Man-inspired "everybody is awesome" feedback meme, and I go off to gibber and giggle in a corner until I can calm down a little.

HOLY CRAP.

I am home from the San Diego International Comic Convention, where a fantastic, if exhausting, time was had by all. I'm still doing my post-con administrative cleanup (rendered more exciting by the fact that I have another convention this weekend, which makes the cycles for certain things much tighter than is the norm). This batch of cleanup is about awards and suchlike.

First up, as a quick reminder, voting for the Hugo and Campbell Awards closes at midnight, Pacific Time, on July 31st. So that means you have, effectively, until midnight on Saturday to vote. Details are here:

http://www.aussiecon4.org.au/index.php?page=66

This includes a full list of the nominees in their various categories. Remember that you must be either a supporting or attending member of AussieCon 4 to vote; supporting memberships are still available. Details on how to purchase a supporting membership are at the convention's website; they cost $50 a person.

It really is an honor to be nominated, and I'm still a little stunned over here. I also really want to receive a tiara in the Kingdom of Poison and Flame, for then I will truly be a Halloweentown Princess.

In a related, if not identical, vein, I will now quote NPR:

"Last month when we asked the NPR audience to submit nominations for a list of the 100 most pulse-quickening, suspenseful novels ever written, you came through with some 600 titles. It was a fascinating, if unwieldy, collection.

"Now, with your input, a panel of thriller writers and critics has whittled that list down to a manageable 182 novels. That roster, which we now offer for final voting, draws from every known thriller sub-genre—techno, espionage, crime, medical, psychological, horror, legal, supernatural and more."

Here is a link to the full story, including the list of 182 novels being considered for the top 100.

Winners will be announced August 2nd. Please spread the word? In conclusion, I leave you with this delightful message from autographedcat...which, if I make the list, I will arrange to have recorded in MP3 form for your enjoyment:

"Hello, readers. Look at your book. Now back to me. Now back at your book. Now back to me. Sadly, you aren't me, but if you stopped reading trashy airport novels and switched to Feed by Mira Grant, you could be well-read like me.

"Look down, back up, where are you? You're on the beach with the person you could be as well read as. What's in your hand? Back to me. I have it; it's an epidemiology textbook with an explanation of the science behind the Kellis-Amberlee virus. Look again, the textbook is now a DVD of the future Rosemary and Rue movie. Anything is possible when you read Feed by Mira Grant.

"I'm on a velociraptor."

Um.

To quote the NPR page:

"Last month when we asked the NPR audience to submit nominations for a list of the 100 most pulse-quickening, suspenseful novels ever written, you came through with some 600 titles. It was a fascinating, if unwieldy, collection.

"Now, with your input, a panel of thriller writers and critics has whittled that list down to a manageable 182 novels. That roster, which we now offer for final voting, draws from every known thriller sub-genre—techno, espionage, crime, medical, psychological, horror, legal, supernatural and more."

Here is a link to the full story, including the list of 182 novels being considered for the top 100.

Scroll down. Scroll down to books beginning with the letter "F."

Understand why I am sitting here looking pole-axed.

I AM IN THE SECOND-TIER NPR LIST. ME. I am right fucking there, along with my two favorite Stephen King novels of all time, and the first Repairman Jack novel, and Jurassic Park, and and and and...

Ack.

So they say lobbying is okay, right there in the article, and this is me, lobbying. I'm not sure how I made this list; it would mean a lot to me to make the final cut. Please consider swinging by and taking a look at the nominees? And maybe, you know, making with the clicky?

Now please excuse me. I seem to have something in my eye.

Dear Great Pumpkin;

It has been some time since I last wrote to you, but you have never been far from my thoughts. I just figured you could use a break. Since our last correspondence, I have refrained from starting any riots or overthrowing any governments. I have been kind to my friends, and relatively merciful to my enemies. I have offered friendship and support to those around me. I have given people cupcakes. I have not brought forth the end of days, nor capered gleefully by the bloody light of an apocalypse moon. I have continued to make all my deadlines, even the ones I most wanted to avoid. I have not talked about parasites at the dinner table. Much. So obviously, I have been quite well-behaved, especially considering my nature.

Today, Great Pumpkin, I am asking for the following gifts:

* A smooth and successful release for An Artificial Night, with books shipping when they're meant to ship, stores putting them out when they're supposed to put them out, and reviews that are accurate, insightful, and capable of steering people who will enjoy my book to read it. Please, Great Pumpkin, show mercy on your loving Pumpkin Princess of the West, and let it all be wonderful. I'm not asking you to make it easy, Great Pumpkin, but I'm asking you to make it good.

* Please help me finish the revisions to Late Eclipses in a smooth, satisfying, timely way, hopefully including a minimum number of typographical and factual errors, plus a maximum level of awesome and win. I'm about halfway through, which is wonderful—I'm almost done!—and terrifying—soon I won't be able to make changes anymore!—at the same time. I want to bring this book to a close, so I can get back to work on the fifth Toby book and the third Newsflesh book. What I have is good. Please let the rest be amazing.

* Since I'm being a Greedy Greta today, please let me swing back into The Brightest Fell with speed and elan, overcoming all challenges in my pursuit of the perfect ending. Thanks to changes in the book's overall plot, I no longer know for sure whether book six will be Ashes of Honor or One Salt Sea, and I'd really like to figure that one out. Please let the book be good, and please let the book be easy on my sanity. The more time I have to spend stressing out over this book, the less time I spend preaching your gospel to the unenlightened, or lurking in corn mazes scaring the living crap out of tourists. You like it when I scare the crap out of tourists, don't you, Great Pumpkin?

* I thank you once again for my cats, Great Pumpkin, who are wonderful and beautiful and a comfort beyond all measure. Alice is huge, puffy, and utterly without dignity. Lilly is sleek, smug, and satisfied with herself. Both are glorious representatives of their breed, and now, as I look to adding a third member to the family, I turn to you. Please make sure I find the right kitten, Great Pumpkin, the one which will enrich and benefit my feline family in ways that I haven't even thought of yet. Keep them healthy, keep them happy, and keep them exactly as they are.

* Please help me write a successful, smooth, and most of all, correct conclusion for the "Sparrow Hill Road" series of stories. It's been exciting and educational, and I've enjoyed the process of delving into Rose's world, but as I start moving toward the end of this particular journey, I start worrying about my ability to stick the landing. Please help me stick the landing, Great Pumpkin. Rose has waited a long time for her story to be told in a truthful, respectful manner, and she deserves a narrative that gets her all the way to the last exit on the ghostroads.

* I haven't said anything up to now about what I really want this year, Great Pumpkin, but...you know I've been nominated for the Campbell Award. You know that if I win, I'll be given a tiara, in Australia. You know that this is essentially what I've wanted my whole life. Some little girls want to be Prom Queen; I wanted to be Princess of the Kingdom of Poison and Flame. Please shine your holy candle upon the Campbell, Great Pumpkin, and, if you see fit, I will thank you in any speeches I have to give (which might be worth it right there).

I remain your faithful Halloween girl,
Seanan.

PS: While you're at it, can you please turn your graces on InCryptid? I really love these books. I want to be able to write more of them.

Just a friendly reminder that voting for the Hugo Awards (and the Campbell Award, aka, "ways to crash Seanan's mental operating system like whoa") closes on July 30th. Details are here:

http://www.aussiecon4.org.au/index.php?page=66

This includes a full list of the nominees in their various categories. Remember that you must be either a supporting or attending member of AussieCon 4 to vote; supporting memberships are still available. Details are at the convention's website.

Holy crap it's almost time for Australia.

I am, like, seven years of not yet ready.

The first time I met Cat Valente, I was predisposed to dislike her. I had, after all, just come off a plane (I am never at my most charming when I have just come off a plane), we really hadn't spoken much at all (if at all), and she was waiting for me in Betsy and Dave's kitchen, like a grumpy* trapdoor alligator. I was not in a "meeting new people" headspace, and I didn't really have a way to avoid her, since she was between me and the bed.

The second time I met Cat Valente, it was eight o'clock in the morning, and she was in dire need of coffee, lest worlds should end. I, on the other hand, was bright-eyed and perky, having already been awake for an hour. I believe this was the meeting during which she was justifiably predisposed to dislike me. (I never hold people disliking me in the morning against them. It shows sanity.)

This is a story about Cat, and about me, and about all of us.

Because see, Cat had an idea for a book about a city that existed somewhere outside the bounds of simple cartography. It was a city of the sacred and profane geography of the soul, and it was called "Palimpsest." She wrote its story, because that's what women like her do, and, in the process, she wrote the story of a story: a children's book called The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Boat of Her Own Making. People were enchanted by the very notion of it, and asked when she was going to write it. She said she wasn't, and so of course, she did.

The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Boat of Her Own Making was originally crowd-funded, posted online for anyone to read. People followed the green wind into the realms of Cat's version of Fairy, and the book sailed away on sails that we all spun together. Since then, print rights have been sold, along with the promise of a sequel...and The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Boat of Her Own Making has been nominated for the Andre Norton Award. It's being given tonight at the Nebulas, the day after we sent a shuttle into the sky to become a star.

Pause a moment, and consider this. The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Boat of Her Own Making was a dream inside a dream, and it became reality because people said "I want this, and I am willing to help you make it real." It became so real that it's on the ballot for a major literary award. The book of the dream that birthed it, Palimpsest, is up for the Hugo, given the same weekend as the Campbell Award (which I have been nominated for, and yes, have had weird dreams about). We made this real for Cat, and so she made it real for everyone else.

Whether she comes home with the award or not, she's already won, because nothing like The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Boat of Her Own Making has ever made this sort of ballot before. Know that you helped to do this, and be glad.

Oh, and Cat?

I like you now. Even when I'm tired.

(*My screensaver face is one of abject puzzlement. Cat's is one of holy irritation. We're like the Statler and Waldorf of urban fantasy when we're tired and standing next to each other.)

Point the first: If you're on Twitter, and either don't watch my Twitter feed or haven't checked in yet this morning, do a search for the #FEEDFriday hashtag. Seriously, this is hammered awesome, in addition to being your opportunity to win some free copies of Feed. Which is pretty cool. They make great gifts! Also great doorstops.

Point the second: While you're enjoying your zombie adventure, maybe you should stop off and take a look at http://www.thefeedbook.com/. Don't worry. I'll wait here for your shrieks of ecstatic glee at how insanely awesome that website is. I'm doing the flaily Muppet arms again. Now with an undead flair. Which...is a little disturbing, really.

Point the third: Yes, I have seen today's XKCD. Sometimes I think the cartoonist is peeking through the windows of me and my friends. And then I realize that no, we're just a type. Scared yet?

Point the fourth: I am almost done with my mind-numbingly massive full-sheet comic page explaining the Campbell Awards and expanding on my eligibility. Vixy and Cat Valente play the part of my lovely assistants, thus sparking the statement "The hardest thing I have left to draw is Cat Valente being eaten by zombies." My life, occasionally so difficult.

Point the fifth: I was in the car with my mother yesterday, and commented that I had purchased my tickets to Australia. The following conversation ensued:

Mom: "And you're coming back with a tiara."
Me: "Well, yes, I hope so, but..."
Mom: "You are."
Me: "Okay."
Mom: "I've been praying every night to the tiara gods."
Me: "...there are tiara gods?"
Mom: "There are now."
Me: "What do those even look like?"
Mom: "I don't know. But they're wearing tiaras."

So apparently I have the backing of the tiara gods in the upcoming race for the Campbell. Thanks to my mother for letting me know about this endorsement. Also, and perhaps more importantly, my mother is insane.

So let's review, shall we? I started this week a) exhausted from a comic book convention, b) with my back doing its best to murder me in my sleep, c) under deadline, and d) with the announcement that I am on the ballot for the 2010 Campbell Award. The first two have been sorting themselves out—I've had time to sleep, and my back is recovering, since I'm taking things relatively easy—but I'm still under deadline, and I'm still on the ballot.

(This whole thing feels a lot like when I first sold the Toby books. All I wanted to do was go up to strangers and be like "I just sold my first series!" All the strangers wanted me to do was leave them alone. So my friends wind up with a lot of really random-ass interjections. "What do you want for dinner?" "A tiara in Australia!" "Yes, but other than that, what do you want for dinner?" "I'm on the ballot!" "So we're having Baja Fresh again?" I try to keep this as non-offensive as possible, but really, it's like a constant GOTO loop at the back of my brain right now.)

Last night, I sat down with the goal of banging out 2,000 words on "Through This House," a Toby short set between Late Eclipses and The Brightest Fell. It's potentially for an anthology, and I wanted to make some definitive progress before I allowed myself to watch this week's episode of Castle. When I came up for air 4,000 words later, the first draft was done, and I felt vaguely as if I'd been hit with a brick. Tonight, I'm going to try to pull the same trick with "Build a Better...," an Alice/Thomas/colony of over-excitable pantheistic demon mice short (being written as the other option for the same anthology). Then, this weekend, I'll try to get three out of three by whipping through "Last Dance With Mary Jane," the Sparrow Hill Road story for June.

Sleep is for the weak and sickly.

In the cracks between the rushing, I've been dealing with taxes, trying to clean my room whilst entirely incapable of bending (it's a good thing I have flexible toes), and revamping both my websites, since the whole "on an internationally-published ballot" has been shoving a lot of traffic in my direction. It's fun like hysteria! And to be honest, I really am loving every minute of it. I am a sad, sad bunny-girl sometimes. So sad.

Next up, a webcomic endorsement, a Feed giveaway, some weird monkey noises, and a funky little dance. Whee!

I got up this morning and checked the AussieCon website almost before I realized what I was doing. I think I dreamt there had been a mistake or something. But there was no mistake, and I'm still on the ballot for the 2010 Campbell Awards. I am no less staggered by this than I was on the day I was asked to accept the nomination. (The comic strip about looking dumbfounded is coming. I was too staggered to ink. Seriously.)

catvalente's story of sex and the city (also sex with the city) is up for the 2010 Hugo Award for Best Novel, and her reaction post made me giggle and nod an awful lot, because she's as staggered as I am. Which I guess just proves that the shiny never wears off of the world if you keep applying coats of silver polish. We're going to wear pretty dresses and go to the awards banquet together, because that's just how we roll around here.

(And I am very proud of her. Palimpsest was the little novel that could, even after everyone said it couldn't. The fact that it's on the ballot is amazing, and testifies to all things finding their place, given space enough to shine.)

In further awards-and-Australia news, Grants Pass has won the Australian Shadows Award for best anthology. This award is granted by the Australian Horror Writers Association, and is given to honor the best new Australian horror (Grants Pass was co-edited by an American and an Australian). Jennifer is now an award-winning editor! Hooray! (Also, the judge's report called out "Animal Husbandry" as a stand-out story. I am honored.)

My friends are amazing, and they do amazing things.

What a wonderful world.

I am delighted (and still sort of staggered and awed) to announce that I have been nominated for the 2010 John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer. You can view the full ballot for this year's awards by following this link to the Aussiecon 4 website.

I. Uh.

Oh my sweet Great Pumpkin and pie, you guys, I made the ballot.

I literally started screaming when I got the email—like, high-pitched, sonic screaming—followed by crying hysterically for a good half an hour. Because I made the ballot. I'm an urban fantasist! Urban fantasists don't make the Campbell ballot! (I checked the last several years, because I am insane like that.) Urban fantasists don't get to buy pretty dresses and go to Australia and maybe win a tiara!

But this one does.

Wow.

I've updated my website to reflect recent changes, I've done the Internet equivalent of making the house look nice for all the new guests that are likely to come over and check me out, and I've managed, mostly, to stop crying. I'm on the 2010 Campbell ballot. I just...

There are no words. Just wow.

As I've mentioned before, I qualify for the Campbell Award this year, and I'd really like to win the tiara, because receiving a tiara in Australia, the Land of Poison and Flame, would be basically a defining moment in my Halloweentown Disney Princess existence. (Receiving a tiara is always awesome. Receiving a tiara in Australia proves that I've been asleep for the past three years.) Some of my friends have made Campbell Awareness posts, spreading the love and letting it be known that I'm eligible. Specifically...

catvalente posted to give me her endorsement, and also link to my comic strip about why I want a tiara (because let's face it, it's eye-catching). talkstowolves posted a long, bullet-pointed endorsement (with, again, the comic strip). Both pointed out that urban fantasy is rarely represented on these ballots, so...let's change the world!

Meanwhile, theferrett (who is also eligible for the Campbell this year and next year) posted about reading Rosemary and Rue, and the difficulties of my specific literary style. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

On to the reviews and interviews and whatnot! First up, Larissa, of Larrissa's Life, conducted an interview with, well, me which went up today. Learn about some of my favorite things, and enter to win an autographed copy of A Local Habitation. Fun for the whole family! Larissa also posted a review of Rosemary and Rue. She says "The plot of this book was great, fast paced and riveting. I could not stop reading for a second and was almost blind sighted by who the villain really was." She adds, "I absolutely recommend this book to any UF lover out there." Go, read, enjoy, and enter to win!

janicu has posted a lengthy review of A Local Habitation, and says "I liked this one better than the first book. I love the heroine and the pacing of the story seems just right." More, "I highly recommend this series if you like Ilona Andrews, Patricia Briggs or Ann Aguirre. The author writes complete installments but threads each book with hints as to the ongoing drama of Toby's life,and anticipating what could happen next is delicious. This is actually a series that I hope won't end at three books." You and me both!

Robin at Romance Reviews Today has reviewed A Local Habitation. Robin says "A Local Habitation is the second novel in this series, so some history is alluded to, but this does not affect the reading of this novel. It is a gripping mystery in a very well constructed otherworld. October is a great character, as are the supporting characters. There are some interesting romantic moments both expressed and constrained between Toby and three of the male characters, but business comes first. Quentin is a seemingly normal teenager caught in events out of his depth." Also "A Local Habitation is a wonderful urban fantasy readers will love." Well, they seem to so far...

s00j doesn't do many book reviews, but she decided to review A Local Habitation, because she is lovely. Sooj says "There's no doubt in my mind after reading this second October Daye novel that our heroine is made of sterner stuff (mostly coffee, if we are in fact what we eat) than me, and I do not envy her. Toby's pretty good at her job, but she can't stop people dying. Not even her friends, not even her superiors among the immortal Fae. If you thought she was strong in book one, Rosemary and Rue, you're not gonna believe all the crap she has to go through to make it to the end of A Local Habitation in one piece." She also says "If you couldn't put the first book down, make sure you set an alarm for a dinner break once you open this one. You'll need it. Once the action starts, it just gets weirder (and darker; we're not messing around here), and it doesn't waste any time. The only way in which A Local Habitation will do you wrong is that it will end, and it'll end in a pretty merciless way. But I find that, as with Rosemary and Rue, it's more than worth the ride." Yay!

Don D'Ammassa included A Local Habitation in his recent short reviews, and says "Like the first in the series, this rises above the limitations of its format. It would be a shame if this got lost in the crowd of similarly conceived though far less well executed novels."

And on that sweet, delightful note, I'm gonna end this post. Cheers!

Okay, so here's the thing: I qualify for the Campbell Award this year (and next year). You can view the rules by clicking this link, and they basically come down to a) when you made your first professional sale, and b) how long ago that was. The John W. Campbell Award uses the same nomination and voting mechanism as the Hugo, even though the Campbell Award is not a Hugo. To be able to nominate a writer for the 2010 award, you must have either been an attending member of Anticipation (the 67th World Science Fiction Convention in Montreal) or be a supporting or attending member of Aussiecon Four (the 68th World Science Fiction Convention in Melbourne) before Jan. 31, 2010. (So it's too late to become a member of the convention this year, but again, I still qualify next year, as do many other awesome people.)

I would, I think naturally, like to win this award. I mean, who doesn't want to win an award? Especially an award that will be presented in Australia, THE LAND OF POISON AND FLAME? That's like, the delicious whipped cream on top of the sundae of venomous awesome that is an entire continent full of cuddly things forged in the very flames of hell. But Australia isn't my main inspiration here.

No.

Did you know that the Campbell Award comes with a tiara?!

I mean...



...just sayin'.

It's difficult for me to talk about awards and such for which I qualify. Part of this is the firm conviction that I'm actually asleep (and having a really weird dream), and part of it is that I come from the filk community, where saying "Hey, I'm eligible for award X!" is considered highly tacky and inappropriate. We all have our quirks, I suppose. But still, my particular recalcitrance isn't the standard in the writing community, so I'm trying to get past it. With that in mind...

I am considered eligible for the John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer.

To quote the site a bit:

The John W. Campbell Award uses the same nomination and voting mechanism as the Hugo, even though the Campbell Award is not a Hugo. To be able to nominate a writer for the 2010 award, you must have either been an attending member of Anticipation (the 67th World Science Fiction Convention in Montreal) or be a supporting or attending member of Aussiecon Four (the 68th World Science Fiction Convention in Melbourne) before Jan. 31, 2010.

Nomination ballots can be found on the Aussiecon website. They must be received before 23:59 PST on March 13, 2010.

If you qualify to nominate, please, take a look at the site I linked above, and see who's eligible for this year's award. There were some really awesome debut authors in 2009, and it would be really bad-ass to see them make the ballot. (Mind you, if I make the ballot, I'll probably stop breathing until Kate slaps me, but...)

This has been your PSA for Thursday.

Having been politely poked to remind me that Hugo and Campbell Award nominations are now open, I wanted to let folks know what I published in 2009 that qualifies for these award categories. Specifically...

Novel-length work:

Rosemary and Rue, DAW Books, September 2009.

Short Stories:

"Lost," appearing in Ravens in the Library. It also appears in both audio and print forms at Wily Writers.
"A Citizen in Childhood's Country," appearing at The Book View Cafe.
"Indexing," appearing at The Book View Cafe.
"Knives," appearing at The Book View Cafe.
"Julie Broise and the Devil," appearing in both audio and print forms at Wily Writers.

The works are eligible for the Hugo; I, as a human, am eligible for the Campbell. To be able to nominate a writer or work for the 2010 awards, you must have either been an attending member of Anticipation (the 67th World Science Fiction Convention in Montreal) or be a supporting or attending member of Aussiecon Four (the 68th World Science Fiction Convention in Melbourne) before Jan. 31, 2010.

The Hugos: http://www.thehugoawards.org/
The Campbell Award: http://www.writertopia.com/awards/campbell

If you need copies of or pointers to any of my short material for consideration purposes, please let me know.

I will now go hide under my bed.