In an alternate universe …

My Nebula outfit — inspired by the stars! I wore a star shawl, a star headband and a spiral galaxy necklace (not visible in photo.) Even though it was a virtual conference, the glam was real.

My Nebula outfit — inspired by the stars! I wore a star shawl, a star headband and a spiral galaxy necklace (not visible in photo.) Even though it was a virtual conference, the glam was real.


This past Saturday was the Nebula awards, where I was one of six short story writers to be a finalist. I didn’t win (that honor went to the fantastic John Wiswell, whose story “Open House on Haunted Hill” is just fabulous) but I felt like a winner simply by being nominated for “Advanced Word Problems in Portal Math.” Plus, I got to dress up with a star-inspired, out-of-this-world ensemble.

But I had to be prepared with a speech in case I won, and I got to read it after the awards ceremony in the delightful “Alternate Universe” acceptance speeches — because, as Nebula finalist and winner Sarah Pinsker noted, there are alternate universes where each of us is a winner.

Below is the speech for that alternate universe:

I feel like I stepped through the wardrobe and into Narnia. Thank you to the members of SFWA and the other nominees. And a huge thank you to my husband and daughters, who are my beta readers and chief feedback providers. Also, a big waive of acknowledgement to my critique groups and Codex.  I also want to thank Daily Science Fiction for publishing my story. This story literally wouldn’t have happened without all of you.

This story is about what matters and how we decide who matters, both in life and in our stories. Our stories reflect who we are, what we value, and who we see as heroes. And often, those who are lauded as heroes fit a certain mold.

But so much of real heroism — the heavy lifting — is done by people who don’t look like the heroes who are placed on pedestals. The real heroes are often the people who don’t get acknowledged or invited through the portal. 

I wrote this story by combining something I love - portal fantasies - with something I hate, word problems. But even with the things we love, we can - and should - provide critiques. I remember feeling betrayed when I read the Narnia series as a girl, and learning that Susan couldn’t return because she wore nylons and lipstick.  Lewis was deciding what and who mattered - and it wasn’t people who wore nylons and lipsticks.

How do you solve that problem? Tell stories about people who matter but who might not get an invitation through the portal.  The diversity of the Nebula ballot this year testifies that we WANT to read these stories.  Be brave, and go out and tell your stories. 

Thank you. 

 

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The problem of mold-brain

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Nebula finalist and a new job