Hey, congrats to everyone on the list, particularly Ken Liu, who is just smoking up the awards lists lately. I am just tickled pink to be on the ballot.
If you’re checking my site out because you haven’t heard of me before, let me make sure you notice two parts of the site.
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"(On the writing F&SF workshop) Wanted to crow and say thanks: the first story I wrote after taking your class was my very first sale. Coincidence? nah….thanks so much."
~K. Richardson
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On Awards: To Be Pushy Or Not To Be Pushy
Sometimes putting something up for award consideration feels uncomfortable, but if you're not going to toot your own horn, who is?Amal El-Mohtar has a great blog post up right now about writers and posts where they list what’s eligible for awards. I get as squicky about writing my own as anyone else, I’ve got to admit, and I thought this was a terrific reminder that it’s okay to toot your own horn a bit.
So in that light, if you’re reading for the Hugo, Locus, Nebula, Tiptree, or World Fantasy Award, here you go.
I had twenty original pieces published in 2013. Of those, I’m pushing two, one SF short story and one fantasy story. The first is “Elsewhere, Within, Elsewhen,” which originally appeared in BEYOND THE SUN, edited by Bryan Thomas Schmidt, which I am happy to mail a copy of to people interested in considering it. The fantasy story is “Superhero Art,” which appeared in DAILY SCIENCE FICTION. If you’d like to see the full list of 2013 pieces with links to the online ones, you can find it in my 2013 wrap-up post.
I myself am reading for the Hugo, Locus and Nebula and am not sure yet about WFC. I am also on the Norton jury this year, so if you’ve got a YA or MG novel that came out in 2013, I’m very interested. Feel free to leave pointers in the comments on this piece; I pledge to make sure I read any listed there. If you want to mail me something, please send it in mobi or pdf format.
Prefer to opt for weekly interaction, advice, opportunities to ask questions, and access to the Chez Rambo Discord community and critique group? Check out Cat’s Patreon. Or sample her writing here.
It was a muted day, fishscale colored, and the sea and the horizon merged seamlessly. No wind — the waves were innocent of foam, existing as a series of sullen gray swells.
Ever since stepping on the beach, she’d been catching kingfish: one cast, one fish, usually from just inside the sandbar. As the sun rose higher, its dazzle on the water intensified, until her eyes watered and her head ached from the relentless sparkle.
She reeled in a pair of six-inchers, one on each of the rig’s hooks, and freed them to put back in the water — too small to be worth cleaning on a day of such largesse.
She misjudged the next cast. It went out well past the sand bar, into the deeper, colder, darker water, The strike was swift, a yank that set the reel singing as it spun. How big was it? Twenty-pound nylon line — would it withstand the pull’s strength if she played the fish in right?
The fish leaped, as though in challenge. It was crimson, an enormous, yard-king fish as red as blood, with impossible, ornate fins of the kind seen in heraldry or on ornamental carp. As it splashed back into the water, it seemed to set the horizon aboil with color, blues and violets and emeralds at play beneath the meshed surface of the sea. She set her teeth and braced herself in the fluffy sand.