Award Eligibility 2021
This year I have two short stories for consideration, and one essay for best related work. Thank you for reading!
A Guided Meditation for Pandemic Anxiety (As Approved by Our Lord Xanthalu)
Published in Daily Science Fiction
Flash Fiction eligible for Hugo, Nebula, Locus Award, Bram Stoker Award, World Fantasy, British Fantasy, and others
Close your eyes and breathe in for 3... 2... 1....
And let it out in a sloooow breath.
Remember that even though these are hard times, you're a strong person who can get through them. Platitudes like these will get you through when the actual tools you'd expect, like a government that cares and a social safety net that can handle such disasters, don't exist.
(Our Lord Xanthalu will never let you down.)
Feel your inner strength and reach up into the sky for 3... 2... 1....
And let the crushing weight of your existence in an unfeeling world bring your arms down towards your feet for 3... 2... 1....
Remember that even in difficult times, it's important to take note of the small things and appreciate them.
Let the gratitude for your copious rolls of toilet paper suffuse through you as you reach out to both sides as wiiiide as you can for 3... 2... 1....
And let the horror of the memories of subbing in a coffee filter collapse your frame. Push your arms inward and hug yourself as tight as you can for 3... 2... 1....
(If you are already a worshipper of Our Lord Xanthalu, Destroyer of Galaxies, now is a good time to take a deep breath of gratitude for Him, too.)
Flash Fiction eligible for Hugo, Nebula, Locus Award, Bram Stoker Award, World Fantasy, British Fantasy, and others
Close your eyes and breathe in for 3... 2... 1....
And let it out in a sloooow breath.
Remember that even though these are hard times, you're a strong person who can get through them. Platitudes like these will get you through when the actual tools you'd expect, like a government that cares and a social safety net that can handle such disasters, don't exist.
(Our Lord Xanthalu will never let you down.)
Feel your inner strength and reach up into the sky for 3... 2... 1....
And let the crushing weight of your existence in an unfeeling world bring your arms down towards your feet for 3... 2... 1....
Remember that even in difficult times, it's important to take note of the small things and appreciate them.
Let the gratitude for your copious rolls of toilet paper suffuse through you as you reach out to both sides as wiiiide as you can for 3... 2... 1....
And let the horror of the memories of subbing in a coffee filter collapse your frame. Push your arms inward and hug yourself as tight as you can for 3... 2... 1....
(If you are already a worshipper of Our Lord Xanthalu, Destroyer of Galaxies, now is a good time to take a deep breath of gratitude for Him, too.)
The Day I Didn't Get a Pet Nebula
Published in the Drabblecast
Short Story eligible for Hugo, Nebula, Locus Award, World Fantasy, British Fantasy, and others
On the day I turned nine, I didn’t get a pet nebula.
I’d really really wanted one, just like the one Shelly had. And I’d been talking about it FOR-EVER, so Dad could have the time to save up for the one in the pawn shop, and I’m not usually patient enough to talk about anything that long. I told him how responsible I was and how I could take it for walks and trim its dust wisps and everything. I made him breakfast when he got home from his shift a bunch of times, and even did the dishes after to prove how responsible I was.
“C’mon kiddo, you know that’s not possible,” he’d said, ten rotation cycles before my birthday. We were at the wobbly kitchen table and he was helping me with my physics homework after dinner, so everything still smelled like tacos with neutron star shavings and spray cheese.
Short Story eligible for Hugo, Nebula, Locus Award, World Fantasy, British Fantasy, and others
On the day I turned nine, I didn’t get a pet nebula.
I’d really really wanted one, just like the one Shelly had. And I’d been talking about it FOR-EVER, so Dad could have the time to save up for the one in the pawn shop, and I’m not usually patient enough to talk about anything that long. I told him how responsible I was and how I could take it for walks and trim its dust wisps and everything. I made him breakfast when he got home from his shift a bunch of times, and even did the dishes after to prove how responsible I was.
“C’mon kiddo, you know that’s not possible,” he’d said, ten rotation cycles before my birthday. We were at the wobbly kitchen table and he was helping me with my physics homework after dinner, so everything still smelled like tacos with neutron star shavings and spray cheese.
How to Steal A Million Dragons
Published in Fantasy Magazine
Essay eligible for best related work for Hugo, and others
Most of us identify as lawful/neutral good, aspiring to the ideals of truth and justice and equity. Why is it, then, that heists and cons are so compelling in fiction? Why cheer for the robbers, the con artists, the swindlers . . . when they go against everything we believe in?
Other than the fact that it’s fun to pretend to be bad, the very best heist and con narratives have the bad guys be good guys. They’re not conning your innocent grandma out of her Social Security check. They’re conning or stealing for a good reason (to feed their family, bring down the evil empire, etc.) and their victims are necessarily worse than they are. We all cheer when we bring down the evil emperor, and we don’t really care if it was done lawfully or not. But there’s more to it.
Heists and cons go hand in hand, because what great heist doesn’t need a little bit of conning to get it done, and what great con doesn’t involve walking away with a stolen prize? Together they provide an alternative axis for participatory tension in our media. We’re used to narratives where straightforward violence is the answer (Luke blows up the Death Star) or even straightforward intelligence is the answer (Shuri and Doctor Who both succeed via their smarts). But these narratives are easy. The audience doesn’t have to do any work.
Heists and cons, when done successfully, let the audience play along.
Essay eligible for best related work for Hugo, and others
Most of us identify as lawful/neutral good, aspiring to the ideals of truth and justice and equity. Why is it, then, that heists and cons are so compelling in fiction? Why cheer for the robbers, the con artists, the swindlers . . . when they go against everything we believe in?
Other than the fact that it’s fun to pretend to be bad, the very best heist and con narratives have the bad guys be good guys. They’re not conning your innocent grandma out of her Social Security check. They’re conning or stealing for a good reason (to feed their family, bring down the evil empire, etc.) and their victims are necessarily worse than they are. We all cheer when we bring down the evil emperor, and we don’t really care if it was done lawfully or not. But there’s more to it.
Heists and cons go hand in hand, because what great heist doesn’t need a little bit of conning to get it done, and what great con doesn’t involve walking away with a stolen prize? Together they provide an alternative axis for participatory tension in our media. We’re used to narratives where straightforward violence is the answer (Luke blows up the Death Star) or even straightforward intelligence is the answer (Shuri and Doctor Who both succeed via their smarts). But these narratives are easy. The audience doesn’t have to do any work.
Heists and cons, when done successfully, let the audience play along.
