Right now I’m at GenCon, hunting the wily catgirl in her natural habitat.
While I’m busy, here’s something interesting from the New Yorker.
Yeah. Seriously.
pat
Right now I’m at GenCon, hunting the wily catgirl in her natural habitat.
While I’m busy, here’s something interesting from the New Yorker.
Yeah. Seriously.
pat
A week or two ago a fan wrote in with the following:
Mr. Rothfuss,
Sorry to hear you didn’t win the Locus award for Best Debut Novel of the year. Still, I hope you got to rub elbows with the famous people and wear a tux at the Locus awards.
I’d already had a handful of people send me their condolences about not winning. Some were gentle commiserations, while other folks were frothy with rage, upset at the sheer injustice of me not winning ever award in existence. Even the ones that were given out before my book was published. Even the ones that were given out before I was born.
Regardless of the tone, all the messages were sweet. And I told them the same thing: the winner, Heart Shaped Box, was a good book. A really good book, actually. I enjoyed it a lot. (Though I did something I rarely do, and listened to it as an audiobook without actually reading the paper version first.)
For the more morally outraged folks, I explained that Joe hill has actually been writing short stories for a while, so he had a bit of a pre-established readerbase even before his novel came out. Plus, he writes in the thriller/horror genre, which tends to have a bigger readership than epic fantasy. Both of those things, I explained, couldn’t help but get him more votes, and that’s the cool thing about the Locus Award – everyone gets a vote. It’s like a democracy or something.
Plus, Hill’s acceptance speech was very gracious. He mentioned all the other nominees, myself included. That’s classy.
As for the Locus Awards themselves – they really weren’t a tuxedo sort of affair. They’re more of a Hawaiian shirt deal. Which, personally, I found kind of refreshing.
I also didn’t get to do much elbow rubbing while I was out there. I had some sort of strange fever that left me exhausted and sweaty. Really sweaty. There were occasions where I was literally dripping, and that’s not the best way to make a good impression on folks. So, for the most part, I just hung out.
I did get to hear William Gibson talk, which was pretty cool. And I got to hang out with Peter S. Beagle for a while (for reasons that I will discuss in a later blog.) That was terribly exciting despite the fact that I didn’t feel very well. My only anxiety is that I looked like I was having the worst panic attack ever. But sweaty exhaustion aside, the fact remains that getting to talk with Mr Beagle made the whole trip worthwhile.
And that, I thought, was the Locus awards in a nutshell.
But it wasn’t. Just a couple days ago, someone sent me an e-mail saying it was a shame about the awards. I was robbed, etc. etc.
I bounced them back the same response: Lost to a good book, established writer, classy speech.
Then the fan replied and said, “You do know that they changed how the votes were counted after the polls were closed, don’t you?”
To which I said, “What?”
So he sent me a link or two explaining what had happened.
For those of you without the inclination to click and read the details on your own, here’s the short version. After the polls closed, Locus apparently decided to count their subscriber’s votes twice when tallying things up.
Which changed the results, obviously. Cory Doctorow’s story collection Overclocked would have won first place if everything was even. But after they weighted their subscribers votes double, he came in third.
And, apparently, if they hadn’t changed things, I would have won in my category.
So now I really don’t know how I feel. Honestly, it would be way easier for me to form an opinion if my book weren’t one of those affected by the change. (or should that be “effected?” I can never remember….)
Changing the way the votes are tallied after the polls are closed looks pretty dodgy though, no matter how you shake it. It makes it seem as if things got counted up, then folks started saying, “Hmmmm…. Well, how does it turn out if everyone who lives in New Hampshire gets two votes? No. Not what we’re looking for. How about people with a GED only get three-fifths of a vote? Still no good. Starbelly sneeches get ten votes? Yes. Perfect. That works. Let’s go with that.”
I don’t really have a good note to close on. The fact remains that Hill’s book is still great and his speech was still classy. If I didn’t mind losing to him before, logic says that it shouldn’t bother me now.
On the other hand, winning awards is cool. Aside from the warm fuzzy, it creates publicity, and that helps spread the word about the book.
Plus, this award was a plaque of some sort. I could have used that for all sorts of things. Obviously it would be useful for decorating the barren walls of my house and intimidating my enemies, but that’s just for starters. I could have also used it for serving drinks when company comes over. It also looked pretty heavy, so I could have used it as a projectile in the eventuality of a zombie attack.
Meh. That’s all I’ve got. I should get back to working on the book.
Later all,
pat
That’s me at the bottom. I’ve come all the way up to #11 since last week.
Something I never knew before: Apparently, “An asterisk (*) indicates that a book’s sales are barely distinguishable from the book above.”
Makes me wish I’d bought a few more copies off Amazon to give away to friends….
Little story: After I got the news that I was now officially a New York Times Bestselling Author, I wandered out of my office and into the hallway, where my girlfriend was looking at her butt in the mirror. You can’t really blame her for this, it’s a nice butt.
“I made it to # 11 on the Times list,” I said.
She made an excited squee-like noise and did something that was kind of like a little excited dance, and kind of like jumping around. It was the perfect response, and I’m glad that she did it. Somebody really has to. If I did it, I’d look demented and feel weird about myself. But when she does it it looks cute and earnest.
“You’re so cool!” she said. “Do you want to celebrate?”
I thought about it. “We could get some Chinese food and watch Doctor Who….” I said after a little bit.
And that’s exactly what we did.
It was only later that I realized when she said “celebrate” she was probably thinking something more… grandiose. It does make sense, I suppose. Making it onto the Times list is a pretty big deal. It’s sort of an occasion. The type of thing that most people would associate with popping champagne and passing around cigars. Or renting a limo and going out to some manner of fancy dress-up restaurant.
Me? Chinese delivery and Doctor Who.
That’s just how I roll.
Later all,
pat
For those of you in the Boston area, here are the details:
I’m going to be at Pandemonium Books at 7:00 on January 3rd. If you need directions or need to contact them, you can get the details HERE.
I’ll be reading and answering questions for about an hour, (or until we get bored.) Then I’ll sign some books, hang out, and chat. Cool thing is, Pandemonium stays open until 10:00 AND it sells games as well as books. So if there’s time after that, I just might try to kick somebody’s ass at Catan….
It has been scientifically proven that I cannot be beaten at Catan. If anyone claims to have beaten me, they are lying. If they aren’t lying, then some outside force must have influenced the game, thereby rendering it statistically insignificant.
In short: Bring it on.
Back to the signing: since I’ve scheduled it on such short notice, I’d appreciate it if any of you would help spread the word. Especially if you live in the Boston area, know folks around there, or are visiting for the holidays. Thanks much in advance…
In other news, I seem to have topped the Onion’s list of Best Books of 2007. Yay Me!
This particular list means a little extra to me because I grew up reading the Onion in Madison. This was way back around 1990, WAY before it went national. When I was in high school, my dream job was to write for them, and now they’re writing about me.
Powells
For those of you who have never been there, Powell’s Books is like no other bookstore I’ve ever seen.
It takes up a whole city block. As I mentioned before on the blog, I’ve only been there once, and that was only for a bare 45 minutes or so. Even so, that was enough time for me to get lost.
And I’m not speaking metaphorically here. I was actually physically lost. Lost as in, “I don’t know where I came in or how I can get out.”
Simply said, if heaven turns out to be something like Powell’s, I wouldn’t complain too much.
As if that weren’t enough coolness all by itself, a friend recently stopped there and snapped a few pictures of what he found.
Awww…. Thank you Powell’s.
Wow. That’s unprecedentedly forthright. Thanks again, Powell’s.
And just a couple days ago, someone sent me a link to Powell’s “Puddly Awards” where customers and staff pick their favorite books. Even better, Powell’s then sells those books at a discount until the end of February. So you’ve still got a week or so to take advantage of it.
That’s the hat trick. Thanks a third time, Powell’s.
More soon,
pat