It is a bright award, a tower of lucite with a galaxy suspended in the upper half and a gold plaque on the lower with a name a title and a year. A Nebula Award. I’ve held two of them in my hands and I’d like to have one of my own.
Alas, it is likely not to be. I fly too far below the radar of those who vote on such things.
Be that as it may, as a member of SFWA, I always vote. I do try to vote for the best piece of work on the ballot and it’s always gratifying when it turns out that I’ve read enough stories and books to have somewhat of an informed opinion. I just now finished voting and I feel righteous. A good friend of mine has something on the ballot and I hope she wins, I do. The story in question is stunningly brilliant, of course—my friends tend to be better than I am and I happen to think I’m pretty good, which means they’re fucking brilliant. And that always makes even nicer, to be able to vote for quality and sentimental reasons.
I’d like to win a Hugo Award, too, but that seems even less likely, as one must sell enough copies of one’s book to those who nominate and vote on those, and I fly even farther below their radar. I will say this—while occasionally some titles of dubious merit have landed on the shortlists of both awards, I’ve rarely found a book or story nominated for either that was a complete waste of time. Between them they make good recommended reading lists.
So here is a hope for good fortune to my friend. May she get the lucite tower and the bright galaxy. She’s earned it.
(psst! That’s Kelley Eskridge, a novella called Dangerous Space. Treat yourself, go read it.)