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To Eligibility Post or Not to Eligibility Post?

Photo of speculative fiction writer Cat Rambo with Cinderella's Wicked Stepmother at Disneyworld.
In my position as SFWA President, sometimes I have to confer with fictional characters.
Let us begin by acknowledging that this is a rancorous period, full of clashing agendas, bewildered onlookers, and all too many innocents caught in the crossfire (although it is not the first time we’ve seen these storms, nor will it be the last.). And that right now making an eligibility post particularly mentioning Hugo Award categories like Related Work is something that some of us are circling and wondering about.

And my answer is yes. Yes, you should. Why?

Because it helps people discover the work that you’re proud of. You know what you wrote. You know what you want to make sure they see. It’s okay to say, “Hey, if you’re looking to read something by me, I would try this.”

Because it helps people read widely. Every writer in F&SF should — well, I don’t want to make it seem mandatory so I won’t say that you must do this, but you should at least feel free to make eligibility posts. So when someone’s poking around, they can find your stuff and read it.

Because you shouldn’t self-censor out of modesty when talking about your work. You are its best champion. Go ahead and help people find the best examples of it. Be humble and lovable in some other way. (Thank you to Erin M. Hartshorn for the link to the piece of self-effacement.)

And so, I’ve finally been prodded by a Twitter conversation into doing my own in part because I want to say to you, no matter where you are sited in the bizarre and incredibly wordy conflicts, that you should do it. Let’s have lots of wonderful reading lists, the more the merrier, and part of creating those is making readers aware of what you (and others, sure) have done. Please feel free to post a link if you’ve made an eligibility post. Yup, even if you think you’re not welcome. You are.

I published a bunch in 2015. You can find the full list elsewhere, but here are my best of recommendations:

  • Related work: I co-edited Ad Astra: The SFWA 50th Anniversary Cookbook with Fran Wilde. (Hard copies are available here.) I remain inordinately proud of the work, which contains recipes like Charles Brown’s Turkey Turkey Turkey and Octavia Butler’s Pineapple Fried Rice. (I think these two essays #PurpleSF and On Reading the Classics are also eligible.
  • Novel: Kevin J. Anderson’s excellent Wordfire Press published my first novel, Beasts of Tabat, the first in a fantasy quartet. SFWA members can find a copy of it up in the 2015 Fiction forum. There have been some nice Amazon reviews, but I know the book isn’t everyone’s cup of tea and there’s been some awesome awesome novels published in 2015. *goes back to read that self-deprecating piece again and quickly moves on*
  • Novella: Nothing this year, but wait till you see the one Bud Sparhawk and I have coming up in Abyss & Apex!
  • Novelette: Also nothing this year.
  • Short story: As always, plenty of stuff here. The pieces that I am proudest of are Primaflora’s Journey, which appeared in Beneath Ceaseless Skies, “The Subtler Art”, which appeared in Blackguards: Tales of Assassin,s Mercenaries, and Rogues, edited by J.M. Martin, and “Marvelous Contrivances of the Heart,” which appeared in Fiction River: Recycled Pulp, edited by John Helfers. I am glad to send a copy of the latter two to any requester.

Please feel free to comment and include a link to your own eligibility post. In this coming week, I’ll also be posting a list of my favorites from 2015, but there are so many it may take a while, plus I’m still reading a few.

Peace out,

Cat

P.S. Here are some additional eligibility posts. I’ll add more as I get them. Please note that A.C. Wise has a great post here where she’s collecting these as well as book recommendation posts.

John Joseph Adams
Mike Allen
Robin Wayne Bailey
Nicolette Barischoff
Helena Bell
Brooke Bolander
A.C. Buchanan
Beth Cato
Nino Cipri
Gwendolyn Clare
Clarkesworld
Fred Coppersmith
A.M.Dellamonica
Seth Dickinson
Andy Dudak
Scott Edelman
FantasyLiterature.com
A.J. Fitzwater
Sam Fleming
T. Frohock
Nin Harris
Maria Dahvana Headley
Kate Heartfield
Jim C. Hines
M.C.A. Hogarth
Annalee Flower Horne
Alexis A. Hunter
José Pablo Iriarte
Heather Rose Jones
Jason Kimble
Mur Lafferty
Rose Lemberg
Natalie Luhrs
J.M. McDermott
Seanan McGuire
Kris Millering
Lia Swope Mitchell
Sunny Moraine
Silvia Moreno-Garcia
Linda Nagata
Mari Ness
Daniel José Older
Carrie Patel
Sunil Patel
Laura Pearlman
Andrea Phillips
Sarah Pinsker
Adam Rakunas
Jessica Reisman
Kelly Robson
Sean R. Robinson
Merc Rustad
SF Signal
Shimmer
Skiffy and Fanty podcast
David Steffen
Penny Stirling
Bogi Takacs
Shveta Thakrar
E. Catherine Tobler
Tor.com
Uncanny Magazine
Unlikely Story
Ursula Vernon
Marlee Jane Ward
M. Darusha Wehm
Martha Wells
Fran Wilde
A.C. Wise
Alyssa Wong
Isabel Yap
Caroline M. Yoachim

75 Responses

  1. Pingback: Pixel Scroll 1/25/16 The Depixellated Man | File 770

  2. Since you ask: First Do No Harm, Strange Horizons, November 16. It’s a novelette by about 70 words.

    Not sure it deserves a Hugo, but on the other hand, I’ve always dreamed of being a Hugo Loser and getting invited to one of GRRM’s parties.

    Reply
  5. Pingback: The eligible past, the tedious present, the exciting future | Lia Swope Mitchell
  8. Pingback: Obligatory Awards Eligibility Post | Janine A. Southard – Writer & Editor

  11. For consideration: THE SYNOPSIS TREASURY. Published by WordFirePress on Feb 2015, it took me ten years to compile never-before-seen actual synopses submitted by major SF-Fantasy authors to industry, to show fans and writers how they got published. Including: H.G. Wells, Frank Herbert, Robert Heinlein, Terry Brooks, Orson Scott Card, Andre Norton, Joe Haldeman, David Brin, Connie Willis, Margaret Weis, Robert J. Sawyer, Sara Douglass, Julie E. Czerneda, Jack Williamson, Ben Bova, Kevin J. Anderson, and many others. Very diverse styles, careers, genders and tastes. Includes a foreword by former VP and Editor-in-Chief of Del Rey, Betsy Mitchell.

    Reply

    1. I think THE SYNOPSIS TREASURY would be eligible for Best Related Work. It’s a shot in the dark, considering such powerful competition, but I’m very proud of this unique book and this is probably my only shot. 🙂

      Reply
  12. Pingback: What I Wrote in 2016 and The List of Award Eligibility Posts I’ve Found | The World Remains Mysterious
  13. Pingback: Pixel Scroll 12/5/16 And They Will Know Us By The Trail Of Pixels | File 770
  16. Pingback: What I wrote in 2016 | kirabug's idea files
  17. Pingback: What I wrote in 2018 – kirabug's idea files
  18. Pingback: Round-up of Awards Posts by F&SF Writers, Editors, and Publishers for 2018 | The World Remains Mysterious
  19. Pingback: Round-up of Awards Posts by F&SF Writers, Editors, and Publishers for 2021 | The World Remains Mysterious

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Who's the Mayor of Your Data?: What You Do When You Like Something on Facebook

Picture of a mask
Do you need to put on additional masks when dealing with the Internet, or should you present yourself in all your glory?
Recently I’ve been mulling over implementing a new policy with my social media practices. I’m thinking about calling a moratorium on likes and check-ins, pins and stumbles.

On the one hand — and this is certainly how the marketers eying all those tasty bits of data would like you to think of it — you are engaging in social expression, you are singing to the world with your own individual song made up of pop culture references and color preferences. You are bonding with that cousin in Colorado, that sister-in-law of a friend, or even your bff. You are finding the gems of the Internet and sharing them. For me as a writer, I’m (or at least I hope I am) continuing to build and deepen my fan base, so they’ll buy my books.

But the other hand is more sinister. You’re providing marketers with your data, telling them how to most effectively sell to you, letting them know what images, what songs, what memes have resonance for you. Talk about the ultimate consumer survey – this one’s as long and exhaustive as you care to make it. Everyone who uses Gmail (and I’m one of them) has more than once been spooked at how the ad in the sidebar seems to target exactly what you’re thinking of with a precision worthy of a Twilight Zone episode. Imagine if every ad getting served to you is precisely tailored to convince you that you need that particular thneed.

This worries me. We are imperfect creatures, our brains are easily tricked, and subliminal tricks can be played upon us. Oxytocin makes us more trusting, advertising surrounds us on an unquestioned daily basis, and we are, after all, predictable and manipulable creatures.

Or what would a game tweaked to our individual quirks be like? (I envision something for myself filled with Amazons, talking animals, an assortment of literary figures ranging from Geoffrey Chaucer to James Tiptree Jr., and pop culture references to children’s cartoons from the late sixties to early 70s.) Such a game, perhaps one formulated with by then automated algorithms of gripping narrative construction, would be awesome.

And on that sinister hand again, it would be so addictive. I say that as someone who gave at least three night a week to D&D all through my high school years, as a WoW player since the beta, as someone who laid a decade and a half of work on the altar of the entity known as Armageddon MUD, which has eaten lives, grades, careers, friendships, and even marriages over the course of its existence. The thought of a game more addictive than that terrifies me.

So while I’m not quite so worried about my data getting used nowadays, I do have concerns about the future and how my data footprint may someday be used. So what are strategies for dealing with this concern? None seem perfect, but three spring to mind.

  1. I can stop using these networks. I’m reluctant to do that, because I enjoy the experience. I like looking at Pinterest pins and seeing all the pretty colors. I like being able to see what my friends are up and who’s got new stuff out that I can help promote.
  2. I can introduce bad data into the mix. I can introduce some contradictory things in there, like saying I like licorice or Mitt Romney. Tracking that seems odd, but I’m capable of it, much like the friend who periodically buys items he doesn’t need with his shopping Advantage card, just to screw with the machine minds.
  3. I can use networks with a persona. I can figure out my alternate Cat Rambo. We all do this to some extent already – no one showcases all of their bad selves online except for the truly narcissistic and deluded.

So what to do? I guess the first step is realizing there’s a problem. What do you think, am I just being paranoid and should break out my tinfoil hat or begin preserving my precious bodily fluids from contamination? Or is this something we should all be thinking about?

(And if I die under mysterious circumstances in the next couple weeks, it only confirms the corporate assassins exist…)

Enjoy this musing on social media for writers and want more content like it? Check out the classes Cat gives via the Rambo Academy for Wayward Writers, which offers both on-demand and live online writing classes for fantasy and science fiction writers from Cat and other authors, including Ann Leckie, Seanan McGuire, Fran Wilde and other talents! All classes include three free slots.

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.

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Snippet: Villa Encantada

Parking lot and vegetation
Yellow lines stretched across the parking lot, marking out the zones of the Great Game.
Excerpt from Villa Encantada (working title), an urban fantasy short story set in Villa Encantada, a condo complex on Lake Sammamish. For those familiar with “Eagle-haunted Lake Sammamish” or “Legends of the Gone,” it’s the same complex.

The doorbell rang as soon as Simone’s hands were covered with dirt from repotting primroses. That was how it always was lately. She wiped her hands on a dish towel, regretting the dark smears as soon as she saw them. The dish towel landed in the sink; she hurried to the door.

As abrupt and perfumed as a magazine advertisement thrust in her face, a broad-toothed woman in red polka-dots that shouldn’t be chic, but were, atop a teeter of matching red heels.

Presenting her hand in a direct overhand shake, “I’m Cherry Abramson, Unit #8.”

Simone wished she’d washed her hand instead of just wiping it, but she shook anyhow. Cherry’s face remained set in the same smile, but somehow Simone was sure the other woman had noted the half-moons of dirt underneath her fingernails, the scatter of dirty dishes visible in the sink, the cloth across them like a soggy wick.

She squared herself in the doorway. No way was she asking this woman in for coffee. She didn’t want that appraising blue eye noting the stack of boxes, the unfolded laundry heaped on the sofa, already marked with a cat-shaped divot.

“I’m still in the middle of unpacking,” she said.

“I saw you out on the balcony on my way over,” Cherry said. “Of course, you want to make sure they all have saucers or some other water catching dish underneath them,” she said. “Otherwise you’ll get marks and the Board will fine you.”

Her tone was edged with unfriendliness. It surprised Simone and she hovered in the doorway at a loss for words. Then Cherry’s smile re-shuttered her face. “I’m sure you will, but I’m on the Board and need to mention things like that.”

“Sure,” Simone said.

“I wanted to invite you to our next board meeting. We always need new voices in the community. You’re an owner, right? Not a renter?”

“That’s right,” Simone said. “Got a good price and it seemed like time to settle down.”

Cherry nodded in tight satisfaction. “That’s what I thought.” She looked at the hallway mirror past Simone’s shoulder. “Well, I see you’ve got plenty of work to do.” She turned and trotted down the stairs.

Simone felt the bounce of her steps. The two-story building was several decades old; you could always tell when someone was coming or going via the cement planks leading down to the courtyard between buildings.

“Bitch,” she said, half to herself as she closed the door. Turning, she stooped to pet the cat winding itself around her knees pretending not to be investigating the door’s opening.

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