The gods convene this weekend to anoint those considered to have produced the "best" fiction in the previous year and give them a heavy hunk of lucite. Mostly the weekend is a chance for the luminaries of the genre to mingle, chat, and drink without fans hanging around or having to race off to this forum or that.
I've written elsewhere on my impressions and opinions so I will not repeat them here.
So this is my apology for not writing longer as I head off to add my bit to the festivities.
And in so saying I decided to simply add to the post with my impressions of this year's affair.
Fabulous, awesome. entertaining, and exhausting are the keywords. We had an astronaut and rock star attending along with a galaxy of writers old and young, veterans and novitiates, agents and editors - the wonderful variety that form SFWA and infuse it with wonderfulness. Mike Fincke, our astronaut captive for the weekend, regaled the crowd with stories of being in space and telling many that he actually read their stories WHILE IN ORBIT!! How freaking cool is that? What we quickly fell into was a mutual squee-fest where he was thrilled to be among writers and we, the poor ground hugging subspecies worshiped someone who had fucking LIVED our dreams. How cool is that?
Maybe I should stop saying it and just go on with HCIT from now on because the whole weekend was HCIT from beginning to end.
And, by the way, we gave out some awards.
And in so saying I decided to simply add to the post with my impressions of this year's affair.
Fabulous, awesome. entertaining, and exhausting are the keywords. We had an astronaut and rock star attending along with a galaxy of writers old and young, veterans and novitiates, agents and editors - the wonderful variety that form SFWA and infuse it with wonderfulness. Mike Fincke, our astronaut captive for the weekend, regaled the crowd with stories of being in space and telling many that he actually read their stories WHILE IN ORBIT!! How freaking cool is that? What we quickly fell into was a mutual squee-fest where he was thrilled to be among writers and we, the poor ground hugging subspecies worshiped someone who had fucking LIVED our dreams. How cool is that?
Maybe I should stop saying it and just go on with HCIT from now on because the whole weekend was HCIT from beginning to end.
And, by the way, we gave out some awards.
One of the highlights of my weekend was seeing you, however embarrassing you were in singing A&A's praises. "They have editors who actually edit!" you enthused. Well, yeah. If that makes us strange, so be it.
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