storyrainthejournal: (me)
Some mostly candid shots from the mass booksigning event at the Nebulas, here, taken by Jayme Lynn Blaschke. There's a sweet one of Connie Willis, and I'm there, too.
storyrainthejournal: (me)
As promised, though these pictures really don't show you much, here's me at the Nebula Awards; the second one is me with my fellow presenter.














storyrainthejournal: (scificity)

So, had a lot of fun at the Nebula Awards weekend. Reliable sources informed me that I cleaned up well and represented Austin writers admirably when presenting the novella nominees and award (which went to Nancy Kress); I presented with Lawrence Person, and I was definitely playing the straight man. Had lots of nice convo with nice folks throughout the weekend.

Highlights of the awards ceremony, for me, were Guillermo del Toro's message of acceptance for the script category; it was a very sweet message, filled with geekly joy and gratitude. Michael Chabon accepted his for the novel, and he was clearly very very happy to be there, and said, with sincerity, that being among sf/f writers felt to him like coming home. And, though 

[personal profile] renegade500 found it a tad dry, I very much appreciated Michael Moorcock's Grandmaster acceptance speech; I found it thoughtful, intelligent, and hopeful. 
 
[profile] tacithydra and [profile] carolineyoachim came over last night for food and some Buffy marathoning (Caroline being new to BtVS); that was swell. All in all, coming back to the dayjob was odd this morning; it felt like I'd been away for far longer, like I'd been on another planet for the last three days. 

The only pictures I managed to get of my awards finery are crap; but I'll post a couple tonight.

 

 

 

 

storyrainthejournal: (tinyumbrella)
The one sound carrying feature of my loft is the ceiling; I never hear my neighbors talking, or their tvs, or anything like that. And I never used to hear the nice guy who lives directly above me ever, except when he practiced saxophone, which really, not so bad. Then his SO moved in, a rather lovely, slender woman, probably not above five feet tall. Who stomps about like an angry marine on steroids. And wakes up earlier than I do. Stomp stomp stomp stomp stomp. Okay, I've gotten used to that; I call her stompy in my mind and that makes it better. Then she began sluicing water off her balcony (I guess she's watering the two plants up there) though it sounds remarkably like she's just throwing buckets of water onto the awning above my balcony. Thunderous, shockingly loud.

So, I generally wake up at 6:30 am. and that last 45 minutes of sleep, it's precious. I cling to it. 5:45 this morning: STOMP STOMP STOMP--SPLOOSH! Shockingly loud, thunderousness on the tin awning! And then again! Every morning. I hope it's water, clean water. But I feel rather like I've been transported to medieval London. Slops out the window! There's an angry fishwife with a chip or two on her shoulder living above me.

--

In other news, I will be at the mass autographing for the Nebula Awards weekend tonight (which is open to the public, at the Omni downtown), with copies of The Z Radiant (also, I think there will be copies of the Cross Plains Universe antho available there, plus many luminaries--of greater magnitude than I--of the sf/f writing world). Then I'll be all dressed up to present the novella category Nebula tomorrow night at the banquet. Hopefully I won't spill any dinner on myself before I get on stage.

When I realized that Michael Chabon is actually coming, I came over all fan girly...I love his work so very much.

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