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It’s probably the only thing that con men, politicians, lawyers (ok, most pols are lawyers, go figure) and sf authors have in common.

To be successful at any of these, you have to be credible. Writers (at least when they’re writing) have it easier than most of the others, because you can go back and edit those little mistakes, and make your characters just that much more plausible. It’s a convenience most con men, politicians, lawyers and other liars have to envy us for. Heh. They have to envy us for something. It’s usually not money.

The big problem – as most successful writers know — is that credibility is fragile. Break it once and the reader starts looking for more. The pleasantly gullible reader is gone, and with him, so often is the enjoyment of the story. The reader trusted you. That’s why you don’t make mistakes. That’s why you check your facts. That’s why you work on your characters, so they would do what you claim they do.

The reader trusts you. Fail once…

Now he doesn’t.

Getting it back is a bitch. You’ll be lucky if you ever succeed, and if you do, it’s hard work. In this way life is no different to art. The only way except for the reader totally rejecting the book, the author, now and in future is long, hard involves passing enough of the trust tests for the reader to continue. Even so: you can never ever go back to the naïve trust.

In the normal course of events, you’d start with an apology (this is tricky in writing a novel). A real apology – as Eric Flint put it here.
“Retract the statement publicly and issue a simple and straightforward apology. ”
and in the comment here

Eric Flint says:
June 8, 2015 at 9:31 PM

I agree, Dave. A real apology means “I’m sorry I said that.” Not “Gee, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” [Left unsaid: “But I didn’t do anything wrong, you thin-skinned jerk.”]

It doesn’t have to be long and it doesn’t have to involve any self-flagellation. You don’t have to explain why you said what you’re now apologizing for. But you do have to apologize for it and you do have to retract it.

It’s not really that hard. Any person who’s married has learned how to do it — or they’re not going to be married for very long.

Not an Irene Gallo ‘I’m sorry you’re offended’ – which is adding insult to injury, or Mary Robinette Kowal apology ‘I accept that you could be so dumb as not fall in line with my totally implausible interpretation of Chicom as an ethnic slur.’ A real apology: “I’m sorry. I was wrong. I withdraw that.”

As Eric said, every married person learns to say that, or doesn’t stay married. I am a great believer in real equality. I don’t think women like Irene or Mary have any excuse to be less capable than anyone else – not if they believe in equality.

Let’s set out a few definition here just so we’re all sure we’re talking about the same thing.

A slate: a list. Nothing more, nothing less. Locus sets one out every year. It’s like a gun. In itself utterly harmless. The number of items on it- whether one, five, or twenty makes no difference. What matters is what is done with it.

Ballot stuffing: a form of electoral fraud where some person entitled to one vote makes multiple votes. Logically the fingerprint of this can be identical vote numbers for all their favored candidates. They could be clever and vary them slightly, but low variance would indicate the possibility.

Bloc voting (also sometimes spelled block voting, which is quite appropriate under the circumstances. The clearest example of bloc voting in the Hugo awards was with intent to block) – where a group of people votes the same way, not on the basis individuals taking a decision, but because they belong to a group or clique, whom they allow to take decisions on their behalf, and then vote in accordance with that decision, not as individuals. The ‘fingerprint’ of bloc voting is seen as issues or candidates getting close to the same number of votes – what would be called ‘low variance’. So for example if candidates a, b, and c in three categories – all candidates endorsed by one group or individual, got 2546, 2501 and 2550… while other candidates got between 80 and 1500 votes , you could safely say there was a bloc vote. If candidates endorsed by one group got between 80 and 1500… (high variance) you may be absolutely certain they did NOT vote as a bloc, but on the basis of individual decisions and individual conscience.

Inclusive: means all groups are included. The signature of inclusiveness is that that barring some impeccable reason (such as the absence of men in a mothers group, or paraplegics in a running group) the group has roughly the same demographics as the population they’re drawn from. So for example the running group, or reading group would have about the same percentage of black people as there are in the pool from which they can draw, and likewise with less tangible things like religion or politics. A group of American readers with 13% black members, 50% women members… and they’re all Buddhists or neo-Nazis is not inclusive.

Back to lying and credibility. The Sad Puppies, actually the Puppies in general, were accused of 1)Nominating a slate for the Hugo awards. In clearer terms, they were accused by multiple Puppy Kickers, many of whom were multiple prior nominees, and all of whom are very much part of the closed and un-inclusive clique, of bloc voting for the slate put up by the Sad and Rabid Puppies. Brad Torgersen –and others, repeatedly said it was a recommended list, not a dictate. Here are the numbers. Look for yourself. Brad is completely vindicated. Those who made this accusation were attacking an innocent man, and supporters of puppies who acted with integrity. An integrity not displayed by the bloc vote for ‘no award’ and those who proposed and went along with it.

I think that calls for an apology (the method of doing it properly is given above, as it is apparent you Puppy Kickers haven’t understood it.)

Ballot stuffing: Once again there are multiple accusations of the puppies doing this. In the strictest definition this didn’t happen, and there is no fingerprint of the same. As the Hugos require individuals to pay to vote, it could be interpreted as someone paying for others to vote was ballot stuffing. This did happen: Puppy Kicker Mary Robinette Kowal did so, by a mechanism that cannot be described as free of bias to an outside observer. You can reach your own conclusions as to how independent those bought votes were, but once again, the only people who did it, were the puppy kickers.

I think that calls for an apology (the method of doing it properly is given above, as it is apparent you Puppy Kickers haven’t understood it,)

We have been called racist, sexist, homophobic, misogynistic, fascist, even neo-Nazi, AS A GROUP. When called on these ridiculous slanders – for which there is a huge amount of evidence AGAINST which the puppy kickers could not squirm out of, they retreated into ‘guilt by association’. We note that the puppy kickers are as a group just as ‘guilty’ by association with pedophiles, cheats, ballot-stuffers, bloc voting organizers, bullies who have intimidated and threatened the livelihood of anyone who failed to co-operate. Much of what we’ve been subjected to, in method, is precisely what the Puppy Kickers thought vile when one of their own, the blogger ‘requires hate’, applied it to them. We haven’t conducted whisper campaigns to exclude (mysteriously all vote ‘no award’) to shame (several authors gave up their nominations under this) to deny places at cons or in publications. They have.

There are many individuals who deserve an apology from various Puppy Kickers for this. They acted as individuals, which is visible in the voting record.

I could go on for a long, long time. The clique and those who camp-followed did everything from cheat to bully and lie. And make the new SP4 leadership into Mormon men.

The truth was not in them. Not once. They lied. And then they lied again, and accused us of that. Just as Larry Correia put it here (you should read the whole thing):
I said the Hugos no longer represented all of Fandom, instead they only represents tiny, insular, politically motivated cliques taking turns giving their friends awards. If you wanted to be considered, you needed to belong to, or suck up to those voting cliques. I was called a liar.
I said that most of the voters cared far more about the author’s identity and politics than they did the quality of the work, and in fact, the quality of the work would be completely ignored if the creator had the wrong politics. I was called a liar.
I said that if somebody with the wrong politics got a nomination, they would be actively campaigned against, slandered, and attacked, not for the quality of their work, but because of politics. I was called a liar.

The Puppy Kickers proved they project well. And this year again proved every single point Larry made, in spades. Steam shovels even.

I see you all shrug. The puppies knew this. We’ve proved it, but that changes nothing. The Puppy Kickers are still dancing in glee, spitting abuse, and celebrating giving the Hugos a cat’s ar…asterisk –a calculated insult to all those voters who nominated as individuals, according to conscience. An insult to many good folk who were nominated and caught up in their pettiness

They won’t apologize. They were wrong, but it takes integrity and decency to admit that, and as we have seen, they have none. They have their insular little shrinking world of Traditionally published sf, and they’ll destroy it rather than lose control.

Well. Yes. The inner circle. The Nielsen-Haydens, the Tor staff, their loyalists, File 770’s little clique, David Gerrold, John Scalzi – the usual suspect nominees of the ‘inner circle clique would indeed.

But SF is bigger than that. Even WorldCon is bigger than that. And even not all of the CHORF’s are incapable of working things out. A few brighter people are plainly looking at the math… and some like this fellow are beginning to understand that they’ve entered Vox Day’s 4th generation war.

Science Fiction resembled in many ways Syria, (or South Africa, or Malaysia or… But Syria is closest). Let’s call it Syfia. One small group, with some powerful allies outside sf, ruled a vast country. From their position of power they dispensed largess – for which they expected obedience, and spreading their influence and ideas. Divergence from this was punished brutally – ask John Norman. Progress of an individual without their support was orders of magnitude harder than with it. Ask Sarah Hoyt. They owned almost all the power, and all the wealth, and only they could reward or punish. Not surprisingly there were people with issues with them, people who would have liked some change, and people who just wanted them destroyed. And then their monopoly on power was compromised. Other folk started making money without them, and being able to reward… and indeed punish.

One of them, quite a moderate fellow, who loved Syfia, but felt some changes were called for, dared question the ruling clique. The clique did as they always had, and attempted to put him down. They failed, despite atrocities committed in the effort. And the result was the rebellion spread. The atrocities didn’t (as in the past) frighten people. A few yes, ran and kowtowed hastily. But most of them just got mad. And the people who didn’t just want change, but to destroy the whole show got involved. The ruling clique didn’t differentiate – actually it saved its worst behavior for the softer target, the moderates. This actually pushed the moderates towards the extremists. To stop the moderates and extremists capturing five beloved villages, the clique set fire to them, burning lots of people who weren’t either moderate or extremist, not hurting the actual attackers at all, but denying them the prize.

Then someone worked out… the combined insurgents were not – at present – numerous enough to take all the villages. But they were numerous enough to make the rulers destroy them just in case they did.

They Clique ruling Syfia face de facto a long counter-insurgency war. A war with lots of damage, and possibly no overall winners. A war which will eventually result in various fiefdoms, and the Clique still absolute in their villages in the mountains of literary sf – infertile and unwelcoming, where their people starve. It is possible to win a counter-insurgent war. But it is hard, long and requires, essentially, winning over the hearts and minds –and pockets, of the ‘moderates’. The end point, survival for Syfia, and at least the people of the Clique if not its leadership means not only the quite mild changes suggested by the moderate fellow at first, but a lot more (look at any state that survived an insurgency. Basically, it cost them ALL plus a lot more than original issues. And all the leadership who caused the issues. They survive, but vastly, vastly changed.)

The Clique need desperately to make peace with the moderates. To give them what they asked for. To accommodate even extremists to slake their fury.

The trouble is… the Clique’s leaders know it’s their heads and their control that’s at stake. They value that far more than Syfia. And on the other hand… the moderates have no reason to trust the Clique. Why should we?

After their previous actions they have little or no credibility. The extremists might be extremists, but they’ve not attacked or betrayed the moderates. Only the Clique has done that.

Who do you think the Sad Puppies should trust?

And when TNH says they’ve never excluded us… who should we believe? Her or our experience, or lying eyes?

If you’re a puppy supporter, or a neutral – remember which side has lied continuously. Don’t believe them, insist they show you. The numbers don’t lie. When they can show that awards, publications, and cons are really, by numbers of people from demographically proportionate religious and political points of view, then they can claim ‘inclusivity’. Until then, like everything else, they lie.

If you’re a Puppy Kicker or a Neutral who loves Syfia – you need credibility. You need us. WE DO NOT NEED YOU. We’re no longer prepared to be _told_ anything. Every time you tell us… it’s a lie, to the point that we may as well be the villains you accuse us of being, because you’re going to lie about it anyway.

So if you want to survive, to change your ways, to include us… Show us. And the price you’re going to pay grows the longer you wait.

Guest post by Ken Burnside

As people sort through the ashes of last weekend’s Hugo awards ceremony, I wanted to highlight some very good analysis by Hugo nominee Ken Burnside. Note, there is no framing from me. Ken wrote a very astute, very candid piece. You make up your own mind. — Brad

Ken says:

Last week, I went to WorldCon, by way of Seattle and staying overnight with Karen Junker, and spending some time with Elizabeth Ann Scarborough, and Shannon Chavez. Karen was a great host, and Annie Scarborough didn’t remember me from the last time we met – when I was a hyperactive 13 year old and she was visiting all the junior high schools promoting Bronwyn’s Bane. If you like puckish fantasy, her not-quite-YA books are quite good, and I especially recommend the Harem of Aman-Akbar.

We woke up at 5 AM, and piled into the Dodge Caravan, driving our way to Spokane with several breaks to enjoy the scenery and use the facilities…and drive through the smoke in the Cascades. I wish I’d taken more pictures from the van. We kept the conversation moving along with the drive, and made it to Spokane with no incidents.

They checked into the Doubletree, with a stash of food I could raid, and I checked into the Grand, and scouted the convention floor, and set up my demo table. Later that evening, I met Dave Marusek, who, unlike Annie and myself, still lives in Fairbanks – he and I split the hotel room.

Paula Thomas, a local indie-published author, was very kind and acted as my seeing-eye-human. (Visual clutter is amazingly effective versus me, and I’m legally blind, even if I conceal it well. When she found out I left my laptop charger at home, she tried to find me one I could borrow for the convention. Sadly, ASUS isn’t that common a brand.

On Thursday morning, while exercising, I met Tananarive Due in the workout room, and had a good conversation with her. This was good; I was scheduled to run Squadron Strike for her son Jason, and Dan Moran’s son Connor in the gaming hall (Salon V, Doubletree). This meant she had a face to go with the name, and had a certified block of 2 hours where she and Steven Barnes could be adults rather than parents.

Most of the rest of Thursday morning was spent talking to friends (Russ Ault and Lee at the Instant Attitudes booth, talking to the people at Starbase Indy, selling some of the Reagency shirts for Mike Williamson, meeting Tom Gondofi and finding out that Bruce Graw was in town, but not at the con.)

I spent the rest of Thursday manning the Ad Astra Games table in the fan tables area – I got a sweet location. I wish I’d had an assistant or two to share the load with. I went up to the con suite twice to scrounge meals, and Karen made sure to bring by some of the groceries I had stashed.

I did a lot of “Would you like to blow up a chocolate?” to people who hadn’t seen it before. I also sold a lot of copies of Minimus and handed out flyers.

By Thursday evening, the smoke had started to settle into the Spokane valley, and the sky was a really ominous Mordor-orange. The chest cold I brought with me was not liking the smoke at all. I coordinated with Harlan Haskell to get some table space for Friday’s game.

On Thursday, I did three panels – two related to games (both of which had IP attorneys steal the show…) and one on space opera where I couldn’t do my slide deck because I had no laptop charger. Plus I was coughing gunk. A number of people wanting to talk Puppy issues met me at my panel and we cruised a few themed parties, but were pretty tired.

Friday morning, the entire city of Spokane smelled like someone was starting a smoker-pit; there were advisories to NOT go outside if you could avoid it. After an impromptu breakfast with Kurt Busiek of Astro City fame, including a modest amount of fan-boy squeeing on my part, and a really good discussion of story structure and compactness, I braved it anyway with my demo kit in tow, wishing I’d had a face mask.

I did cancel my 4 PM panel appearance because my voice wasn’t going to cut it.

I had lunch with Dan Moran and Amy Stout-Moran and Connor Moran, along with Blaze Ward, Tracy Erickson, Scott Hysmith, and Janna Silverstein. Nice wide ranging discussion about writing, being a professional, the growing lack of gate keepers in indie publication, and why this is a Good Thing, along with epigenetic influences, bad jokes, and how kids always seem to resemble their grandparents more than their parents.

I set up the game on Friday, and had Kendrick Dickens (going from badge name and the fact that Dennis Dickens says he’s his son; I suspect I have the name wrong), Connor Moran and Jason Due-Barnes playing in an Axanar playtest in 2D. In the end, one Klingon disengaged, another did some light damage to Connor’s ship, and was destroyed by my setting up a good shot for Connor. Jason was a little young for the game (11, and a bit of a bag of squirrels) while Connor is damned near the center of my target demo: Young enough to think shoving minis around the map is REALLY COOL, bright and focused enough to see this as a game like chess that he can master if he focuses on it.

Jason left at 3:45 for a social engagement with his parents, Connor was tempted to try to plead his way out of dinner to play more. 🙂 (The golden age of gaming is about 13-14. You hook ’em then and you have a customer for life.)

As I was packing up, I had people show up to ogle the minis, because the ships I’m using (by Charles Oines) are clear cognates of the classic Trek designs but not the classic Trek designs. Which led to more demos and teaching four more people how to play. I could never /quite/ get out of the room, which was a problem, because the doorways nearest the game room kept opening and letting smoke in from outside.

I eventually escaped the game hall after sending a few demo participants to smuggle food to me, and found the Filking room. I sang The Elements and gave a recital of Janus: Sonnet by John M. Ford, dragged the demo kit to my table, found five notes from people wondering if I was OK, went back to the Grand and went to bed. Coughing kept me up until 3 PM local time, and I woke up at 8:30 when my alarm went off.

On Saturday, I manned my demo table in the convention center until 12:30 PM, handed George R.R. Martin a “Castle Friends” shirt (which he didn’t get the joke of!), and had lunch with Karen Junker and Lou Antonelli. I scouted out the theater for the Hugo ceremonies, hung out with Jenn Brozek and her husband for a bit, and then took a shower to cough brown gunk out of my lungs, and a nap.

I went to the Hugo reception and nearly missed my Hugo Nominee Photo Shoot because I didn’t hear the category name when it was called up; fortunately, John C. Wright said they were looking for me. I mingled with a few editors from Tor for a bit, talked to fellow nominees, and enjoyed the hors d’ouvres.

And then the Hugo ceremony happened. I’ll cover the Hugo ceremony, the immediate aftermath and the parties in a separate post.

On Sunday, I had a fair number of people say that they were really sorry that I was in the collateral damage zone of the Puppy smackdown. I had an even larger number of people come up to me to be deliberately rude, saying that they hoped I felt awful for my part in trying to “rig the vote.” For the most part, I said the following:

“I came into this expecting No Award in my category. I’ve gone out of my way to personally congratulate every person who got a Hugo, and to congratulate every person who came in second to political pique. Beyond that, I figure I gained somewhere between one thousand and four thousand new readers, depending on what percentage of the people who voted No Award read the packet.”

Paula Thomas and Tom Gondolfi helped me tear down my table, and we went to several parties after the close of the exhibit hall and the end of the con. Paula dropped me off at the Amtrak station at 1 AM, where I discovered that my ticket was no longer valid (I’m talking to Amtrak about this now, to get a refund), and I spend 42 hours riding coach back to Milwaukee and having low-key conversations with fans.

So . . . .

How the Hugos Crashed
(aka “The Diary of a Self-Deploying Human
Sandbag In The Culture War”)

By: Ken Burnside

Part I: My Experiences

The Puppy imbroglio is about politics overlaying a literary dispute, and like all political actions, it has no winners. Its major casualties are relationships, and the truth.

I signed up for the Sad Puppy list because I was told it was about getting representation for conservative and libertarian leaning storytellers in the Hugo nomination process. The request came in when a book I was published in was in its initial 90-day release window, and it counted as promoting the title. More exposure means more sales, and I was (and always am) looking for new readers.

Plus, I figured that my chances of getting onto the final ballot were somewhere up there with me being named Pope. I largely forgot about it.

The Sad Puppies recommended reading list became the basis of the Rabid Puppies slate. The first pieces describing how the two were indistinguishable came out in early March. While I was published by Vox Day, I was a Sad Puppy, not a Rabid one. One very important difference between the two: Vox said to vote his slate; Brad said “These are highly recommended, worth reading, and if you agree, worth nominating.”

The announcement of the Sad Puppies slate was a mishmash of “Let’s get a certain type of SF represented” which I agree with, and a large charge of “Let’s turn this into a culture-war front.” I agree with the former. I think the latter is profoundly stupid.

I’m going to divert here to a subtle, but important distinction.

A recommended reading list should not be a slate. The Sad Puppy recommended reading list, while not intended to be a slate, effectively turned into one.

A recommended reading list should, in an ideal world, be lightly curated. We don’t live in an ideal world. Locus Magazine puts out the most prestigious recommended reading list in the field, and while Locus makes their recommendations more in accordance to the Nebula guidelines, their influence on the Hugo nomination process is pretty strong.

A recommended reading list should have, at a minimum, twice to three times the number of entries per category as the final ballot for an award. Fewer than this, and you’re packing the slate with what you want, and charges of ideological nominations will fly. Exactly matching the number of entries on the ballot for each category is the definition of a slate.

Brad Torgersen and John Scalzi both use their blogs to solicit recommendations. Scalzi sometimes gives an affirmation on third party recommendations, Torgersen had his commenters vote to consolidate several recommendations down into one list, and then posted that list publicly as the Sad Puppies 3 list. There is a difference between the two methods, and Brad’s way consolidates nominations in a way that (we later learned) had disproportionate impact.

There’s no grand conspiracy here; it’s simply someone expressing a preference.

A slate is a radically different kettle of cats. It’s not “these are worthy of your consideration.,” it’s “Vote for these to piss off group ” Because of how the Hugo nomination process currently works, it’s easy for a slate that gets fewer than 10% of the nominations to write the ballot for a category. The Hugo nomination process is vulnerable to favor-trading and log-rolling. It was possible for books with as few as 60 nominations to make the final ballot four years ago.

In terms of philosophy, Torgersen was hoping to get a handful of nominations on the final ballot, and maybe, just maybe, get Toni Weisskopf a Hugo Award. His goals were modest. Vox Day? Vox Day has wanted to get No Awards dished out in the Hugos since early 2014.

Keep this distinction in mind for what follows.

From March through Easter weekend, when the ballot got announced, things were quiet. I got told that I was an actual finalist, in Best Related Work. I was told to not reveal my nominee status.

Three days before the ballot was released, the editor of Amazing Stories started the campaign for No Award on all the categories that were nominated by Sad Puppies and Rabid Puppies. This was the first “high profile” source treating them as interchangeable. This was the first hint that the slates had worked…and was clearly a leak by someone breaking the “please don’t reveal this information” instructions.

The day the ballot was released, I stated (and continued to state through the end of voting).

“Read the works. Vote your conscience. In that order.”

It was abundantly clear that slate voting had a disproportionate effect. Keep in mind that the only person demanding people vote straight slate was Vox Day.

In the four month span between the ballot being made public and the end of voting on July 31st, I got threats of assault if I showed up at WorldCon (none materialized), I got called a racist, homophobic sexist neo-Nazi, and I watched lies and fabrications show up in national media. The Puppies are all racist white men (which is why the nominated slate had seven women in it). I mostly played duck-and-cover; Brad Torgersen was on scapegoat duty.

Those threats of physical assault made up my mind about going to WorldCon. Until then, I figured that going to a convention where I’d lose a Hugo and wouldn’t be able to sell games was…not financially sensible.

I stayed out of discussions on the Hugo Awards after the assault threats. People largely assumed that I was a lock-stepped mouthpiece for Vox Day anyway. If you weren’t the focus of this attention, it was easy to say “Oh, it wasn’t that bad…” It was that bad. It was relentless, with a hit piece coming out roughly once a week from late April to the week before WorldCon.

In late May, I saw Brad apologize for some of his rhetoric about “victim quotas.” It wasn’t much of an apology, but the counter-reaction was as bad. He learned that backtracking from any Puppy statement was worse than keeping his mouth shut. Through June, several outright libelous pieces about Brad were published, corrected, taken down…and repeated in a different venue.

I have had early readers on this tell me I’m being too kind to Torgersen, that he deserved what he had coming.

Prior to the assault threats, I would wade into the discussions trying to be reasonable and calm and correct only errors of fact, and got ripped. I stopped for the sake of my own sanity, and was reminded of the quote that no amount of factual information will convince a person whose self image is threatened by those facts.

Throughout this, the things that made me a Puppy in the first place was buried in a malodorous pile of feces. They were buried by partisans on both sides, not just the Anti-Puppies. In Kary English’s blog, I paraphrased Anita Sarkeesian: “In the game of Hugo Awards, the Puppy nominees aren’t the opposition. They’re the ball.”

Eventually, tired of being browbeaten and told what an awful human being I was, I just retreated to “Read the works. Vote your conscience. In that order.”

I made it to WorldCon (see convention report, above), largely ignored the political infighting by running game demos and stepping out of conversations on Puppy versus Anti-Puppy positions; even the people who presumed I was on “their” side aggravated me..

When people wished me luck, I said that I expected to lose to No Award. I’d been saying that since June.

I went to WorldCon to spend time with authors I rarely get to meet, hang out with friends, demo games, and lose a Hugo in person. Keep in mind, most of my writing is in games, not in SF; I’m unlikely to have another nominated work given my other commitments.

While I was clearly the best fit for the category in Best Related Work (and I wished I could’ve taken another editing pass; the piece was a bit of a rush job for a deadine.) I was certain that “The Hot Equations,” in particular, would have no chance no matter it’s merits. It was nominated by Vox Day, and published by Vox Day.

Kiss. Of. Doom.

Then the Hugo Awards happened.

Part II: The Hugo Awards, the Afterparties and the Aftermath.

On Saturday, I went to the Hugo Award reception. I could tell who “knew me” as a friend and who “knew me” as a Puppy. The former tended to chit-chat. The latter would move to get a fresh drink or a new snack when I walked closer. I’ve been at more awkward receptions in my life, but not many of them.

At the reception, we were handed our Extra Large Hugo Asterisks as nominees. For those not in the literary know, Kurt Vonnegut used the asterisk as an illustration of the anus. So yes, all the nominees got a nice reminder that the awards committee thought they were assholes. Gerrold name-dropped Vonnegut’s name at the reception. Either that, or all the winners were going to be reminded, Roger Maris-like, that they didn’t meet the same standards as prior Hugo winners.

Combined with shunning, my “OK, this is going to be a disaster…” sense was past tingling, into throbbing and really should just be called mordant curiosity. Only after I was seen talking to Tananarive Due did anyone outside the small representation of “Puppies” at the convention consent to talk to me, mostly in the shadows of the reception, where nobody else could see.

I went to the INB Theater, sat in the front row and waited. The long discussion of the Official Hugo Asshole Disks led things off. The Sasquan chair reminded people that “No Award” was an option. David and Tananarive did a lovely job, and covered for a few gaffes from script pages not turning, and tried to keep it fun. I’ve been a master of ceremonies; I’m not going to rag on them for it.

Best Related Works came up. It went to No Award; I expected that. I didn’t expect the loud and raucous cheering, which, frankly, pissed me off.

Then Best Short Story came up. It also went to No Award. The cheering was even louder.

Then Best Editor, Short Form went to No Award and the cheering was deafening. There were several people who said “Fuck this…that’s not right…” when that happened, down in the nominee area. David heard it; he quickly looked over the orchestra pit to see what was going on.

Then Best Editor, Long Form went to No Award, and the cheering made the floor tremble. Several people (myself included) started booing. David said “booing is not appropriate” and I came about a half-second away from standing up and jumping on the stage to grab the mic. Bryan Thomas Schmidt DID get up and curse loudly. Toni Weisskopf apparently never went to the ceremony at all; per Bryan the two of them commiserated for a few hours after the ceremony.

Best Novelette went to an actual winner, best Novella got No Awarded (but with less cheering), and Best Novel got a Hugo. I made a point of personally congratulating all of the Hugo winners when I found them on Sunday.

Words cannot describe how furious I was at the outcome at the time. I sat in the theater after the lights came up. I had a brief conversation with political pundit (and fabricator of the Hugo Asshole Disks) Jim Wright. He agreed with why I was angry: Cheering for No Award (and cheering loudly) was beyond the bounds of acceptable behavior.

For a ceremony that promised to be about inclusion and “we’re all fandom,” having the master of ceremonies feed off the cheering for No Award? That’s very easy to take as hypocrisy of the first order. I’ve also been told, multiple times that SF readers are NOT FANDOM…and that’s part of the problem.

Seeing “No Award” blow out candidates who were clearly meritorious, like Mike Resnick and Toni Weisskopf? With cheers that rattled the rafters and made the floor rumble?

I felt so very included in Fandom then. Really.

I expected “No Award” to take my category (clearly the weakest one) and Novella. I was cold-cocked by Short Story, and both Editor categories.

I grabbed a copy of the vote tally sheet while being confronted by people who were jubilant about the outcomes. I was glad I took the time to sit in a quiet place and calm down before doing so.

I eventually calmed down and went to the two after-parties, the one at Auntie’s bookstore, and then got into the cab going to George R.R. Martin’s Hugo Losers party. At both locations, I made it a point to shake hands with the people who won, to say kind things to them. The conversations I got into in both tended to revolve around What Happens Next (see Part V: Implications.)

I saw George R.R. Martin declare that all Puppies were Rabid at his party, and hoped that his alternate awards wouldn’t be needed in the future. The celebration was one of fandom holding off the barbarians. You know, people like me. I had some fun at the party anyway, talked to people when I could, and got home around 3 AM.

On the ride home, I shared a limo with David Gerrold, and got to hear his account of the Hugo Ceremony. He said he’d been expecting a lot of booing, but when he heard the cheering for the first No Award result, he knew everything was going to “be all right.” He also talked about how, now that the ceremony was over, he could finally lay down the mask of politesse and let people know how he really felt.

I pointed out that I was one of those people who got shellacked by the No Awarding, and that I felt that the cheering was incredibly rude and disrespectful. David, to his credit, listened to me and said that he wanted me to continue writing in the field, and that I should treat the cheering as cheering for the process, not a personal attack.

The car ride ended, I talked to more writers and pros in the lobby of the Grand. No punches were thrown, no people were upset – there was still some jubilation about the smackdown.

On Sunday, I put up with periodic heckling by fans who came to “rub it in.” I replied with variations on this:

“I came into this expecting No Award in my category. I’ve gone out of my way to personally congratulate every person who got a Hugo, and to congratulate every person who came in second to political pique. Beyond that, I figure I gained somewhere between one thousand and four thousand new readers, depending on what percentage of the people who voted No Award read the packet.”

Part III: The Fundamental Literary Divide

In case it’s not clear, my personal position is anti-slate, and strongly in favor of recommended reading lists. I’m not running the Sad Puppies 4 campaign, but I’m hoping their recommended reading list sifting starts soon. I want them to avoid overlooking things like the Three Body Problem. I want that recommended reading list to either put out one or two recommendations per category, or actually be a recommended reading list, and have so many recommendations that it’s ineffective as a slate. I’d guess that 10-15 works per category would suffice, but I don’t know.

There should also be a clear statement of intent – “These are the works we like.” I’d be delighted if there were a de-escalation of the culture-war rhetoric. Make this a positive about the works being recommended, and cut back on the name calling, the talks about political collusion, the cries of character assassination, the attempts at counter-character assassination.

Make this about the works, please. Avoid slate voting and nominations. I’d much rather have one or two very good works in the category make the final ballot than see what happened in 2015.

I will state for the record that every recommended reading list is a filtered list. It reflects the biases of whomever compiled it, whether that’s Sad Puppies, the Baen Barflies, Goodreads rankings, or Locus Magazine.

I am working out the back-end logistics to make a web-accessible database of publication listings from publishers, large and small, to make it easier to find all the works published in a given year. If I can get any traction on this, I’ll make an announcement.

I think, below the political dispute, there is a set of unexamined literary assumptions. Over the last fifteen-ish years, while the makeup of organized fandom hasn’t changed (organized fans have always been homogeneously liberal), the makeup of awards has skewed towards “literary” SF. Literary SF aims more of the story at exploring the human condition, and how people’s lives and ideals have changed. In any story, there’s only a finite amount of word-count, and divvying it up between characterization, plot, exploration of the setting (and establishing the setting’s ground rules) and The Big Idea is part of a writer’s craft.

Literary fiction relies on conveying a change in emotional state and character understanding. It puts a premium on better writing, because of this. Literary fiction, left to its own devices, turns into tone poems about competitive navel gazing; this isn’t mockery of the form–anything in writing taken to an extreme runs into problems.

There’s a sub-genre of SF that I call “The Heroic Engineer Story.” It’s not always about an engineer, and another term for it is “competence porn.” Analog still publishes a lot of it. It’s very much about “put character into a puzzle box, have Act I be about how they realize how screwed they are, have Act II be about making things worse, while getting the key needed to escape the puzzle box at the end of Act III.” While it’s from the pulps, and borrows something from the pulp formula, it’s not really 1950s style pulp writing. In Heroic Engineer Stories, most character details of the protagonist are secondary to “How Does She Solve The Problem?” In Literary SF, the character development is MUCH more important.

A lot of people read Heroic Engineer Stories and project “straight white dude” onto the protagonist, unless the author specifically states they aren’t such. One of the appeals of the Heroic Engineer Story is that it focuses on the universally human fascination of solving problems, along with life-or-death stakes.

For the SF readers who are the target of the Heroic Engineer Story, there’s an intellectual thrill akin to reading a murder mystery in seeing how the problem is solved, and a comforting escapism from emotional nuance. For the readers of the Heroic Engineer Story (and its related subgenres, the Exploration of the Mysterious Yet Logical Thing Story and the Defense Against The Inhuman Aliens By Mighty Pluck And Human Courage Story), the Competent Protagonist who puts aside emotions to Solve The Problem is an aspirational character.

And yes, more of those aspirational characters should be women. David Weber carved one hell of a market niche by doing exactly that.

It is damned difficult to do a literary SF version of The Heroic Engineer Story. There are two I can think of, and both are movies: “Her” and the problematic “Ex Machina,” In both cases, the “human element” is “man falls in love with feminine machine and is creeped out because even Simulated Women Are Mysteeeerious Creatures.” I’d like to see less use of the “Woman As Mysteeeerious Creature” trope, but that’s secondary to saying that writing a Literary Heroic Engineer Story is a difficult juggling act.

For people who write and read literary SF, that Competent Protagonist is as staid and cliched as Horatio Alger. They don’t have any internal conflicts, or any hard decisions to make about emotional issues. All the interesting stuff is external, and the only motives in conflict are in a strictly Manicheist vein. A lot of very good recent SF–notably a good chunk of Charlie Stross’ output–pokes deliberate fun at the Heroic Engineer Story and its subtropes.

Heroic Engineer Stories drive a lot of sales. Nearly every SF author I know who doesn’t need a day job writes an action-adventure series, where the Heroic Engineer/Officer/Competent Protagonist Solves The Problem. They sell, and they sell to a male demographic, often current or recently retired military, and that demographic skews conservative.

You can make an argument that Ringworld or Rendezvous with Rama wouldn’t make the Hugo ballot if published today. One of the reasons why they wouldn’t make the ballot is that the standards for prose smithing have risen since the early 1970s; the general quality of _writing_ in the field has improved noticeably in forty years.

The Heroic Engineer Story has all but vanished from the Hugo awards; this year’s Three Body Problem will be seen as a reversal of that trend. They still show up in the Nebulas. Chuck Gannon’s Caine Riordan series has a protagonist who’s clearly “Chuck Gannon in better shape, and the universe cheats on his behalf.” Both volumes have made the Nebula shortlists. The entire series is pretty pulpy in its premise and protagonist. It’s published by Baen…and large swathes of Baen’s catalog is conspicuous in its absence from the Locus Recommended Reading List.

For what it’s worth, I have a three-fold explanation for why that imbalance exists:

1) WorldCon Fandom (the small sliver of SF fandom that goes to WorldCon) is liberal and fairly insular.
2) Literary SF, as expressed above, is generally better written. All else being equal, truly excellent writing will be the tie breaker.
3) The Baen Invisibility Factor in the existing recommended reading list channels.

There’s no need for a grand conspiracy; I doubt that organized Fandom could keep a secret conspiracy secret for two weeks. The idea that they could do so for fifteen years? I read SF, I’ve got a good imagination, but…no.

Addressing this imbalance is why I became a “Puppy.”

What happened instead? The Hugos became a front in the culture war. Brad Torgersen’s posts at the very beginning about “victim class check box fiction” destroyed any rapport with people who weren’t already in his camp. Other comments made by Torgersen kept the same divisive tone. Vox Day’s posts on the subject started at inflammatory and went up from there. His business model is built off of it.

Both were using the tactic of “say something outrageous, wait for the ‘other side’ to get pissed off, and turn to the choir to say ‘see, I told you they’d over-react.” When trying to build a roster of voters nominating literary works, this sure as hell doesn’t convince people that your side has any merit.

Conducting literary criticism via the rhetoric of culture war is profoundly stupid if you want your complaints listened to. The counter-reaction to the Puppies was justifiable, predictable, and seems to have fed into a considerable media campaign, one that Torgersen had to threaten libel lawsuits to tone down.

The actual Puppy “grievance” is that the WorldCon fandom has gotten insular, and needs more nominators and voters. It also needs to reflect things outside the narrow purview of the current WorldCon membership.

I lay most of the initial blame on the Puppies, but the reaction (and cyclical counter-reactions) leave plenty of blame to go around. There’s been enough decrying of fault and blame on this matter. No side of this, Sad Puppies, Anti-Puppies or especially Rabid Puppies , comes out without char marks.

Part IV: The Anti-Slate Measures.

There are two anti-slate measures that were ratified at Sasquan. Because the World Science Fiction Society has a two-year rules change cycle, they won’t impact any Hugo nominations prior to 2017.

The two proposals are EPH (formerly Single Divisible Vote) and 4/6.

In EPH, each nominee gets one ballot per category, and that vote gets divided among the number of entries in that category. Nominate a single work, and you get 1.0 nominations. Nominate five works, and you get 0.2 nominations. This is the one that I think holds the best chance of deterring slates, since someone stuffing a category needs to know they have about 5x as many nomination ballots as anyone else.

The problem is that I don’t think it will work. A look at the nomination statistics shows that Vox Day has somewhere around 3-4x as many nomination ballots as anyone else. Another element of the equation is that the people who regard the culture war (“causing the SJWs to screech” is their form of entertainment) are generally affluent enough that spending $40 or $50 is “OK, I miss a night out at the movies.”) EPH/SDV is the only proposal that mitigates slates enough to keep the “old collegial feel,” It raises the barriers to slates, but doesn’t eliminate them.

In 4/6, each category gets expanded by one entry for nominations, and no nominator can nominate more than four entries per category. There was an alternate proposal, called 5/10 which did the same thing.

The way 4/6 fails is that it’s still vulnerable to slates. It wouldn’t have stopped what happened this year at all. The only change is that the Rabid Puppy slate would’ve had fewer overlaps with the Sad Puppy slate. Instead of one slate dominating the nominations, it just takes collusion between slate organizers (whether deliberate or coincidental) to lock out a category.

The two proposals ombined means that you need two colluding slates, each of which has 3x-4x the number of unaffiliated voters. Slates are still more effective than unaffiliated voters, but this should require that close to a third of all nominating ballots are voting for two coordinated slates to block out a category.

Note that I don’t think blocking out a category is necessary to achieve the Rabid Puppy goals. See Part V below.

Part V: Political Consequences

Quite honestly? I don’t see a good way out of this.

In an ideal world, two categories would’ve gone to No Award: Best Related and Novella. They were easily the two most egregious cases of Rabid Puppy Nomination Stuffing, and the two weakest categories in terms of top-to-bottom quality of the work – and I say this as person who got the second-most votes in the Best Related Works category after political pique.

This would’ve been (I’d hope) an adequate rebuke of the slate-packing. Having actual Puppy candidates _win_ in the other three No Award categories–and the top vote getters were truly worthy winners– would’ve let the anti-Puppy crowd say to the Puppies, “See, you’re welcome here too.”

What actually happened?

Five categories got No Awarded. To me, the least justified case was Best Editor, Long Form. Toni Weisskopf got more votes for Best Editor than the previous five winners combined. It didn’t matter; No Award got almost twice as many as she did.

With the way the Instant Runoff Ballot works, it would’ve been trivial to ensure that Vox Day didn’t win the category, without nuking it. That didn’t happen. Instead, we got the argument that “No-one named on a Puppy List shall prosper.”

And I think that’s dreadfully wrong. I think, more than anything that could’ve happened, that just wrote “Larry Was Right All Along” In ten foot tall letters. Because the threat of possibly giving an award to someone Vox Day recommended was more important than the quality of the work.

Politics over quality. This is doubly true of what happened to Kary English. Mike Resnick was also worthy.

The people who voted “No Award” without reading the works may have thought they were punishing the leaders of the Puppies. They were punishing the self-deploying human sandbags instead. Protesting the unwritten social conventions by breaking the written admonition against “Don’t vote in categories you haven’t read” is, arguably, hypocrisy.

For a person nominated for an award like the Hugo, especially people like Kary and myself, with short publication lists in the field, the real prize isn’t the trophy. Getting one of those early always makes you wonder what you’ll have to do to prove you got better at your craft. The real prize is getting your work out in front of more readers, readers who tend to be influential in other parts of Fandom.

However, the real disaster is coming.

It has now been established that voting No Award without reading the works is acceptable behavior. It’s also been established that it’s perfectly OK for members to distribute large numbers of Supporting Memberships to other members to “get out the vote.” Both of those were done by the anti-Puppy side.

What makes you think they won’t be done by the Puppy side next year?

As horrible as the cheering for No Award in the Editor Categories was for the people who were nominees, two of those No Awards pretty much give Vox Day his best ever recruiting pitch: “After seeing what they did to Toni, why bother reading the categories, when voting for what you like is going to get a No Award anyway if it shows up on a Puppy Recommendation List? Just join me in burning the whole thing down by Voting No Award in every category.” Yes, you can argue that the cheering was for the process…but that’s not going to be persuasive to people who feel aggrieved and shut out.

Until now, a point of commonality between the Sad Puppies and the Neutral Fans is that voting for something (or against something) you haven’t read is an abrogation of the trust implicit in getting a voting packet.

The “winner” of this year’s Hugo ceremony was Vox Day. His goal has been to crash the Hugos, and has been for 17 months. He wanted to create a “lose/lose” situation for WorldCon: Either give him a nominee victory, or, do what he really wants and show how easy it is to manipulate the voters into voting No Award. He got both outcomes. Chaos Horizon points out that the block of 400 voters putting Three Body Problem over the top probably came from Vox Day. (See Annotations, below.)

There were roughly 1050 “Puppy” voters – about 550 Rabids and 500 Sads. 1000 Rabids and 100 Sads The Rabids are recruiting, because the anti-Puppies just gave them a nice, appealing message:

“We will return the insult done to Toni Weisskopf ten-fold.”

Here’s how they’ll do it:

1) They’ll get at least two TRULY objectionable works in every single category, along with 1-2 works that might be tolerable to fandom at large.
2) They’ll tell all their voters to vote No Award in every category. This, plus whatever votes go to No Award because, say, Vox Day has a piece in a category from a slate, should be enough to ensure that No Award happens in nearly every category. It will be harder for them to screw over Dramatic Works and the professional artist categories.

I wouldn’t bet against their success. I sure as hell wasn’t expecting five No Awards this time around.

If WorldCon wants sane Hugo Awards, there needs to be a dialog begun about the _literary_ dispute, separate from the culture war dispute. Consider this piece an opening statement

Toni Weisskopf may be able to deflate the ball of anger and bile the cheering at the Hugo ceremonies created, and she may love fandom enough as a thing (or dislike Vox enough as a thing) to do so.

To the side gloating over “victory” over what was done to Toni and Mike? There’s a reason why Vox Day is thanking you in public. Profusely. It’s not every day that your opponents/enemies hand you a banner AND a martyr to rally the cause around, then act like gleeful bullies to reinforce the message.

To the side referring to David Gerrold as a “faggot,” to Wesley Chu as a simpering man-whore? Yeah, I know, you can’t be persuaded at this point. You’re crowing over being handled a book of matches and a 55-gallon drum of gasoline. May the flame of your self-immolation be a beacon of enlightenment providing a cautionary fable for future generations.

To others, watching the cavorting with pyrotechnics or the cheering? Remember the words of Steven Barnes: “The first rule of human interaction is to assume every person you meet is a fully capable human being rather than a caricature. Human beings are driven by unacknowledged fears filtered through aggression and insecurity. Identify the fear and resolve it, and you resolve the conflict. React to the insecurity and aggression, and you escalate it.”

Part VI: What Happens To Me?

Me? I’m planning on writing. More games than fiction. Games pay better for me, by a fair margin. But there will be some work from me coming in the latter third of the year.

Besides, depending on how you interpret the mix of No Award and First Place votes in my category, I picked up 4,000 readers who want to see what else I can do.


Here are the voting statistics.

And an analysis of who the assorted voters were.

This article by Nathaniel Givens at Difficult Run was also quite instructive

The winners of the categories that got No Awarded are the ones who placed first in the “Run for Second Position” after “No Award.” They are:

Novella: Flow (Arlan Andrews Sr.)
Short Story: Totaled (Kary English)
Best Related Work: The Hot Equations (Ken Burnside)
Best Editor, Long Form: Toni Weisskopf
Best Editor, Short Form: Mike Resnick

Amazon Author Page

Author page front end

Here’s what the readers should see on Amazon.

It’s come to my attention that some of you… *looks over her glasses at the desks in front of her* are neglecting a powerful and easy marketing tool. I’m talking about the Amazon Author Page.

Listen up, class, because this is so simple, and it can really help.

Imagine you are a reader who has just learned about a new author. They tried a book, and they want more. This is what we all aspire to. But when they search Amazon for the author’s name, they find very little information, out of order books, no clue as to the rest of the series…

Let’s make it easy for them and collect all the information in one place, shall we? In the process, we may be able to take a casual reader and draw them closer to becoming a fan, someone who will interact with an author and pass the word on to others about that author. Again, let’s make that easy on them. The less clicks, the better. In addition, you see the yellow follow button on that image of my page? When readers click that, Amazon notifies them as soon as I release a new book. It’s like a mailing list, without all the work and time and cost.

Sure, you may have a website, or a blog, or both. Facebook fan page, even. But the Author Page on Amazon has a huge advantage. All the stuff you have for sale is right there. And it’s sortable by publication date, etc. Also, if you don’t have a website, this can be a great place to send people who want to learn more about you (and buy your books). If you’ll recall a while back I mentioned using QR codes on promotional material like bookmarks and business cards, this is one place I send the QR code to, the Amazon Author Page.

You can set yours up from the back end, at the Author Central. If you weren’t already aware of that, you should familiarize yourself with it. There are important tools here, like rank tracking, sales graphs, and all your reviews in one place. Today I’m going to talk about the basics, though.

When you first login to Author Central, you get a homepage with tips and news articles. You want to click on the Author Page tab at the top, and start filling in the blanks. I’m going to tackle the biography in a minute, so we’ll start with the blog section. If you don’t have a regular blog, this can also be your author website. If you do twitter, then you can add that, although there seems to be some uncertainty about the display of the twitter feed on Amazon at the moment.

author page


Two important things are the photo, and the bio. I know that most authors hate both of these. Unfortunately, I’m going to tell you that you need both. No, you can’t get away with a cute pet photo unless you only write books about cute animals. Ideally, you will have a professional headshot to put in here. At the very least, a good, crisp, amateur shot will do. Don’t use a grainy cell phone image. Don’t use an old photo that was taken 20 years ago – we can tell. That shirt hasn’t been in style since at least the 80s. (yes, I am thinking of a real example). If you cannot stomach having your face in public, or have reasons that make it unwise, as an alternative you could use art from a book cover or series you write. Not a book cover itself, that’s limiting. But a piece of professional level (not a child’s drawing, unless, again, you are writing children’s books) art would work.

The biography. I suspect all of us dread these. Where to start? How much is too much? How much is too little? I didn’t write mine. I have other versions I did write, but my First Reader wrote mine (and in return, I wrote his) and if you have a partner or friend who is skilled with words, this can be a reasonable compromise. You don’t feel self-conscious about puffing yourself up, and you have something to put out there. How long? Well, as long as it needs to be. You don’t need to include a lot of personal information, but some makes you seem more human to your readers. I recommend injecting a touch of humor into the bio, if you can manage it, or if you must, make it over-the-top funny. You’ll have better reactions to a warmth of personality showing through than to dry facts.

I have three bios I cut and paste as needed – the long one written for me, a shorter version I wrote which is about 200 words long, and a very short 50 word version I originally created for a convention guide and keep as it’s handy. If you’re totally stuck, ask in the comments, and myself, or someone will help out with it.

The bio is just as important as the blurb of a book. Only here, you are the product. You’re selling yourself (hike that skirt up and show a little leg, if you dare…) and you shouldn’t sell yourself short. You are uniquely you, with the voice to back it up, and with some work, that will shine through in the bio.

Finally, make sure that all your books are properly connected to you by clicking on the Books tab. Also, make sure that your series are marked clearly in KDP because Amazon will helpfully link them on their sales listings if they are. Do not, for goodness sakes, list yourself as an editor on your own book if you are the author. Unless your book has multiple illustrations inside, don’t list your cover artist as the illustrator (you can, and should, accredit them in the front matter of your book, instead). Don’t list your editor as an editor in the KDP listings unless it’s a collection of some kind and they were instrumental in pulling the stories together. Ahem… this soap box just appeared under me… *steps down*

Go forth, children, and having learned your lesson, implement it. I want to see links in the comments!




Thank you all for your patience. I write this to you from my pit in the basement. No, really, my office is full of stuff. I’ve spent the last two weeks digging out from under years of stuff and moving, and it’s only now that I’m coming to understand what a burden that actually is.

A little history, before I get into things. I chased and chased Mrs. Dave until she caught me. Many of you know the story, but suffice to say I can do subtle, much to my surprise. However, this was while we were in the same geographic location. And then we got stationed in different places. She went to Georgia (the state, not the … er, state (yeah, yeah, but nation is different. Kinda)) and I went to Hawaii. By that time, we’d been dating for most of a year, and we didn’t wed until most of two years after that. Even then, she didn’t join me in durance vile tropical paradise until a further two years had passed. By that time, we each had most of a household worth of stuff.

Because I’m full of awesome like that, she arrived to a set up apartment, a measly thirty to forty minutes commute from her command. (It was about the same to mine. Best I could do.) And then her household goods shipment arrived. Suddenly, we had two households worth of stuff in one appx. 800 ft^2 apartment. Joy. We got rid of a bunch, gave some away, donated more, threw away some, but were still over-stuffed. Overstuffed chair: good. Overstuffed apartment: less than good.

Since then, we’ve moved three times, one of them across an ocean and a continent. We landed in a bigger place than the previous ones, but still hadn’t taken the time to fully unbox and sort through all the things. Mistake? Yes, as it turns out. Because of the way these things work, Mrs. Dave immediately dove into the intricacies of a new command. New quals, new jobs, new collateral duties, new people. I, uh, I wrote. Some. (Not enough) Then Wee Dave came along, and from that moment, I’ve gotten very little accomplished that wasn’t explicitly Wee Dave Related Work (WDRW, for the uninitiated).

Well, time has marched on. The Creature has leveled up: Wee Dave is officially a toddler. He climbs up and down the stairs, walks (albeit like the tiny drunk person infants often resemble) more than he crawls, and in one particularly surprising episode, opens the front door unless the deadbolt is thrown. He knows how to plug cords in after he’s unplugged them, though we appear to have convinced him that plugging not-cord-things into the power sockets is Unauthorized.

Speaking of time marching on (and precipitating events, though I wasn’t), we’re going to be in the East Part longer than we’d first thought. Turns out there are Naval Regulations against moving active duty servicemembers until a year after the birth of a child. Working Title #2 will be joining us in a fully separate sense sometime late in January, so we’ll be around here for a while, yet.

While this is a joyous happening (I swear I’m not terrified. Mostly), it has precipitated introspection at the soul-searching level. Also, I’d like Wee Dave to be able to get into trouble downstairs, though I’ll get to that in a bit. Essentially, some changes need to be effected. If I thought I was getting nothing done with one small creature around, what’s it going to be like when I’ve got two under my dark tutelage care?

How does this connect in with the Dread Pit of Stuff to which I alluded earlier? I’m glad you asked! For many reasons, not least of which is the military only paying to move a specific weight of goods, it’s become more than clear (existentially akin to knurd, for those following) that we needed a Reckoning. A winnowing, if you will. Time to cull the herd. And as our time (Mrs. Dave’s and mine) has been effectively commandeered, it was most fortunate that Mom and Pop Dave came to town for a couple of weeks of Grandsquirm Time.

While Mom Dave rocked Occupy Wee Dave, Pop Dave and I spent the time digging out from under The Pit. Was it a complete success? Not total, no. But. It was a start (and what a start it was) and we now have a more livable lair. (To the admitted detriment of my office, at least temporarily. It is to sigh.)

Um, Dave, this is MGC, not Life According to Dave.

Right you are! Writers, I’ve seen more than a few amusing signs, memes, and mottos in my time. You might recognize: “A clean desk is a sign of a sick mind.” I freely admit that I used to swear by this. Not anymore! Seriously, the emotional and psychological weight of unfinished tasks is a stressor I do not need and do not want. I highly recommend taking the time to clear your slate of these unfinished tasks, hanging over your head like a low orbit bombardment fleet. They really put a damper on all the things. Especially the creative ones.

I get an itch when I try to work these days. It’s become so much a part of my process that I barely notice it anymore, but it degrades my ability to do anything related to writing. It’s the “you have more important things to be doing” itch, and the only relief comes from doing those “more important” things. Are they actually more important than writing? Not really. Writers write, and if you (I) don’t write for long enough, your (my) skills degrade, the muse stops talking (though there are other reasons for that) and you (I) stop being a writer. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to used to be a writer.

The way out – at least for me – is a matter of systems (hey, a thousand words in and I finally get to the point. I must be a novelist or something). I’m finding I need to set up systems that assist me in accomplishing my goals with the fewest distractions. At this moment, for example, I’m upstairs, where the mess in my office isn’t more than that selfsame itch I mentioned earlier. It’s still a distraction, but I’m actually getting something done (albeit done with much tardiness), and I’m not neglecting my responsibilities. Though I am finding myself conscripted to play peekaboo on the stairs or read Mr. Brown Can Moo with some regularity.

Any number of professional writers (the ILoH, the BbESP, our Dave, the Impaler, both Redheads of Doom, and whatever Brad’s going to turn into now that the House Done Burnt) advocate writing every day. Actually, pretty much all successful writers say it’s the only way to go. I expect I’ll agree, as not writing every day hasn’t helped me much, at all. Life, however, has a way of getting in the way, as most know. If you don’t have your systems in place to maintain momentum, creative work is one of the first things to fall apart. Me, I’m working at putting a bunch of those systems in place, as life is about to get a great deal more complicated. What helps you maintain discipline?

There Will Be Post…

Just not yet. As soon as Mrs. Dave and Not-As-We-As-He-Useta-Be Dave are taken care of. There will be writing. About space, and stuff (no, really). For now, argue amongst yourselves.

Yet another Post-Hugo Post

So, another Hugo award has passed – a singularly apt choice of phrasing in the light of the unfortunate visuals afforded by the now notorious asterisk and the more-than-a-little-phallic rocket award (sooner or later some lout will make a gif of the rocket going into the middle of the asterisk and… well… Let’s not go there. There isn’t enough brain bleach).

Before I say anything else, congratulations to the winners. Congratulations also to those who were denied an honorable win by the slate-voted No-Award crybabies, and to everyone else who was nominated. Regardless of whether they were nominated by wrongfans or TruFen, every single item on the ballot was there because there were people who thought it was one of the best pieces in its class that year.

It’s a shame this year’s hosts showed all the restraint of a Nazi rally along with the morals of a Soviet show trial and the taste and discernment of a cat in heat. And I’m not talking about the votes.

We’ll start with that asterisk.

I’m sure nobody else noticed the startling resemblance to a certain anatomical outlet, and of course, the Hugo rocket’s suggestive shape has been noticed by many people. Put those together and you get a pretty damn accurate depiction of what the pre-award “show” did to their precious awards, not to mention the unfortunates deemed to be tainted by classical communist and Nazi guilt-by-association.

The entire response from the We Are TruFen clique is… well… imagine a group of Mean Girls from your high school or middle school years. The nastiest, bitchiest ones, only with a fraction of the candlepower, and picture them as ardent devotees of whatever flavor of dictatorial socialism it is. You get the picture.

The thing is, is it Nazi, or is it Communist? There are elements of both. Take this quote from Hitler:

“It is thus necessary that the individual should finally come to realize that his own ego is of no importance in comparison with the existence of the nation, that the position of the individual is conditioned solely by the interests of the nation as a whole.”

and replace “nation” with “Fandom”.

They certainly took note of Goebbels on propaganda techniques:

“The most brilliant propagandist technique will yield no success unless one fundamental principle is borne in mind constantly – it must confine itself to a few points and repeat them over and over.”

And I’m sure this observation of Hitler’s would not be at all strange to them:

“We are socialists, we are enemies of today’s capitalistic economic system for the exploitation of the economically weak, with its unfair salaries, with its unseemly evaluation of a human being according to wealth and property instead of responsibility and performance, and we are determined to destroy this system under all conditions.”

(And they say the Nazis were right wing (sarcasm off))

I was going to mine the Intertubes for Nazi quotes that the Puppy-Kickers could have said if they’d been about Puppies or white men rather than Jews, but alas, even in translation Hitler and Goebbels are so much more articulate the comparison would be utterly unfair to the Puppy-Kickers (and remember, these are writers and editors – but the Nazis beat them on all fronts when it comes to articulating points of view. I suppose I should be relieved: pointing and shrieking tends to be rather less than effective as a means of converting the undecided).

Oh, and for those who are wondering? The reason I didn’t use quotes from Mao, Lenin, or Stalin was that an awful lot of Puppy-Kickers would be flattered to be compared to such luminaries of the world’s most lethal ideology.

So, let’s call them for what they are. Nasty, petty, bullying socialists who would fit in just as well with the Nazis as they would with their equally murderous Communist cousins. They even have a racial agenda, and while they’d deny it, they’re so US-centric it’s hilarious (as well as sad).

And what’s even sadder is this pathetic collection of power-hungry little Hitlers have destroyed what was once a genuinely respected award. Whether it can be resurrected by the Campaign to End Puppy-Related Sadness or not, I consider the cause to be worthy.

Writing While Furrin’

So on my blog about a week ago there was an argument over 3 BP.  I didn’t care for it, but I confess I’m not enthusiastic about hard sf unless it’s exceptionally well written and has great has a higher bar to clear.  Yes, guys, I confess I paged over the Heinlein engineering equations plus diagrams.  Yes, son and husband think I’m nuts for this.

But the conversation went into its being a translation and how it might affect the enjoyment of the book.

Someone came in very heated on how it was terrible we were impugning the translation.


This is when I have to explain some things about being a trans-national writer or a translator.  And it’s something you guys can, probably apply to “just” being a writer, which I’ll explain at the end.

First translation is an immensely difficult job. Even translating something as “simple” as tax documents, which was my job, at one time, for a multinational corporation is headache inducing, because you find them using words that IN ENGLISH fall between our normal “fill in” categories.

But if you translate something like novels or poetry, another layer is added. It’s actually impossible to FULLY translate a work of art.  Take for instance the American habit of dropping in show-references.  For instance, let’s say that someone coming home and finding a mess says “Lucy you have some x-plaining to do.”

In the Portuguese translation of the work, I might have to slot in a similar referent that brings a similar response.  (No, I have no clue what just now.  When I was a kid the references were to fairytales or classical allusions.  Now I doubt it.)

The problem is to do that, and at the same time to keep the original, because you don’t want to write your version of the book, you want to change only what absolutely needed.

I’m not talking (merely) of bad translation.  For instance “he said heatedly” often got translated to Portuguese as “com calor” which might have been an expression (?) around my grandma’s time, but which in my growing-up mind translated to “and he was hot.”  For the longest time I wondered why people kept getting hot in the middle of conversations or what that had to do with the plot.  Turns out, of course, it didn’t.  (This reminds me of my brother coming in on a roommate trying to growl a word which in Portuguese can’t be growled. Again, a translation error.)  I’m talking of deciding how much to “betray” the work in the new language.  You’re going to betray it.  In my first day of Techniques of Translation, in college, the teacher wrote across the blackboard “Traducao e traicao” (the cs have cedillas)   Which means Translation is Betrayal. I can’t attempt translation without seeing that in my mind.  You can’t avoid it.  The only question is HOW MUCH will you betray.  (And the reason I insisted the boys read The Three Musketeers in French.)

But beyond the translation and word choice, there’s a whole other field.  Different cultures have different expectations of works.  What one considers side-splittingly funny the other considers annoying or even offensive.

And there are more subtle differences: the pacing of a work, the language what is considered a happy ending.

For someone like me who transitioned between languages and cultures, it was the culture-crossing that was the hardest.  When I was published, after 15 years here, I still had a tendency to be a bit slow, a bit internalized and a lot “sad” in my story telling, all of which are markings of Portuguese literature (which I can discern even in translation.)

In an art form that is supposed to mimic the voice behind the eyes, cultural … what Heinlein would call canalization shows itself in what your character notices, what your character worries about, what your character even thinks, and definitely what moves the plot.

Some people complained about the Ancillary (can’t remember if Justice or Sword) character worrying about plates at a totally inappropriate time.  I think that would be invisible to the author, because she’s an American woman of a certain class and time.

Which brings us to the next point: you must be aware of your own inner dialogue and how you see things.  Oh, not to make them conform to the SJW perspective, which is what they’d tel you, but simply to make them bridge the distance between your mind and other people’s.  For instance, if you grew up in a culture where bullfights are common, starting your book with a bull sacrifice might make perfect sense.  It was five years before I realized that alone probably got me kicked out of further reading.  That’s cultural, but suppose you are a person born and raised in say Appalachia and that hunting is a part of life?  Start your novel with hunting on another planet, and you might run into NYC editors who never hunted and who think animals are sort of humans in fuzzy suits, and you’ll be rejected out of hand.  (If you’re indie this isn’t a consideration.)

Almost all of us, America being what it is, are part of some micro culture whose inner workings would seem alien to mainstream.  If you write about it (and all of us do, sooner or later) you have to be aware of how it’s perceived by the public at large, and how its details would be understood.

Because if you don’t, you’re exposing yourself to being misinterpreted and perhaps rejected or worse.

All of writing is translation or your thoughts and dreams into other minds.  And all translation is betrayal so it can be properly perceived by the other mind.

Remember that.  Act accordingly.

I’m Late, I’m Late

For a very important date.  Actually I lie.  I’m just late on stories, books and more relevantly today on waking up.  Post soon.  Yep, beneath that’s a true and accurate picture of me this morning, obviously in drag.

Who should we be worried about impressing?

No, this isn’t a Hugo post, not really. Although I will admit that the Hugos, and every other award, played a hand in its creation. Frankly, I first started thinking about it 10 days or so ago when I saw a story about a pro football player who had taken away his children’s participation trophies. I was one of those parents who didn’t go ballistic over what he did because I understood his reasoning. He wanted to make sure his kids understood that it wasn’t enough to just participate. That was important but the truly important thing was putting in the work, trying your best and making the sacrifices necessary. It wasn’t all about winning but about doing your best and understanding that you aren’t always going to win.

So I can see folks already starting to think, “yeah, yeah, another sour grapes Hugo post.” Sorry, but no. I never expected to win the award. I was honored to be nominated. I thank everyone who voted for me. But winning the Hugo wasn’t on my list of things I want to do before I die. Why? Because winning the award has little to do with proving to me and to my peers that I am a success. At least it shouldn’t have much to do with it and certainly not in its current iteration.

This was driving home yesterday when I saw a comment from someone on Facebook. I don’t know what side of the Hugo controversy the commenter falls on. It frankly doesn’t matter. Why? Because he really hits the nail on the head when it comes to who we, as writers, should be worried about.

This gentleman asked a very simple question. I’m going to paraphrase. He wanted to know why all the comments about what the Hugos are and who should be voting for them were addressed to writers and a small clique of aging con goers. What about those people who aren’t writers or who have been going to WorldCon for years? Don’t they matter?

The simple answer, at least to me, is that they matter more than the writers who have been so busy drawing lines in the sand (and, yes, I have been one of those) or the Fans (big “f” as opposed to little “f”) who have been telling everyone else that they don’t belong to Fandom and have no right to voice their choices for the Hugos because they haven’t paid their figurative dues or whatever. The little “f” fans are the ones who still go to the bookstores or who frequent Amazon to buy our books. They are the ones who go to the movies and watch the TV shows. They are the ones we have to keep engaged in the genre or, frankly, the genre will die.

These are also the fans who will sometime tilt their heads to one side and wonder what the carp ‘SpecFic” is. After all, isn’t all fiction speculative? Doesn’t writing fiction mean and author is speculating about how a character or characters will react in a given situation? Call science fiction that — science fiction. They aren’t scared by it, especially not with all the sub-genres that have come out. Don’t insult them by thinking the word “science” will send them running off to the hills. It won’t.

These are the fans who want to be entertained. They don’t care if there is a message in the story — as long as the story entertains and keeps their interest. They don’t keep a scorecard to make sure there is a certain number of whatever type of character. Frankly, you could hit every “required” character set in your work but if you don’t grab the reader’s attention and keep it, they won’t keep reading and they sure as hell won’t buy your next work.

These fans with a little “f” are the backbone of our genre. For the most part they don’t know about the Hugo or, if they do, they avoid like the plague any book or story that has Hugo Winner stamped on the front. Why? Because they don’t like those stories. Does that mean every one of these fans hates those stories? Not at all. but when you look at the declining sales numbers over the years of traditionally published science fiction novels, when you look at how few science fiction magazines still exist, you have to realize there is something wrong. Once you realize that, you have to ask yourself what and when you see the numbers fail to pick up, you have to wonder if traditional publishing is doing something wrong.

The best thing that has happened to the genre has been the rise of indie publishing. That allowed authors like Christopher Nuttall and Mackey Chandler — and even myself — to write the sort of stories we enjoy and to put them out for the reading public to judge. And the readers have judged that they like what many of us are doing. Chris Nuttall makes more than a good living off his writing now. While I don’t know how much Mackey makes — and I don’t want to know — looking at his rankings and seeing so many folks talking about his books on social media and demanding to know when his next one comes out, my guess is that he does as well. I do know what I make and it is far more than I would get for an advance as a “new” author from most publishing houses. So we, and so many others, must be doing something right.

We’ve been told, as recently as Monday, by those who think awards are more important than readers (or at least that seems to be their stance) that we should write better stories. Well, my award is seeing my royalty statement at the end of each month. It is getting the fan letters from those who have read my books. It is waking in the morning to find a PM on Facebook from someone who just discovered my science fiction or fantasy and wanted to let me know how much they liked my work. So you tell me. Who or what should I be more worried about? The readers who pay out their hard earned money to buy my work and who tell their friends and family about it if they liked it or an award that does nothing really to help advance my career or help pay my bills.

To me, the only ones I need to be impressing are the readers. As I said earlier, it is clear from looking at the different genre and sub-genre lists on Amazon and elsewhere that there are more readers out there who want entertaining books than there are those who want books that put message first and story comes somewhere below that. No, I’m not saying there shouldn’t be a message in fiction. Let me repeat that for those who tend to skim until insulted: It is fine to have a message in your fiction as long as you remember that your message won’t be heard if you don’t write a story that entertains and holds the readers’ interest.

So quit whinging and whining over the decline of the field. Quit whinging and whining over the decline of literary numbers. Instead, ask yourself why? Do a bit of market analysis and realize that readers — just like folks who go to the movies — want to be entertained. That is what I strive to do. That is what so many other authors strive to do. So, to all the fans, thank you for your support. To the Fans and authors who want to keep their little cliques, go ahead. Keep doing what you’re doing. I’m not going to try to convince you to do otherwise. For me, I’m going to do my best to remember that it is the fans who really count.


You call THAT a ‘war’?

I spent part of yesterday helping a friend who has problems with the hydraulic clutch on their ute. My conclusion is that I’ll have to go online and buy a new slave cylinder for him. The seal is shot.

Why am I telling you this fascinating piece of trivia that you did not need to know? Well, because I thought it a great way of showing you how selective quoting – Mike 50 Hugo Noms Glyer’s favorite modus operandi — works. You see Mike says we hate him because he always quotes exactly what we say. So I thought I’d save him time, because I’m kind like that. Mike’s choice quote about any puppy or MGC post would be: “I’ll have to go online and buy a new slave” or perhaps with the ‘funny’ caption ‘Puppies kill baby seals’ “The seal is shot”

Puppy-kickers, on the other hand, would get: “I spent part of yesterday helping a friend who has problems”.

It’s a particularly obnoxious and dishonest way of misrepresenting people, because very few people go and read the actual piece, but the poster can protest his innocence loudly. So, please, if you happen to read anything on that site, do follow the link and read the entire thing. Oh, and be aware of his other little tool – selective omission. Bad points and posts from one side get chosen, good ones… mysteriously never, and of course, vice versa. I know there is this curious belief that all puppies supposed to be stupid mouth-breathing rednecks, easy to put one over. The evidence doesn’t actually support this, but then puppy kicking is a faith-based religion, so evidence is something they ignore. And we’re taking bets on the likelihood of Mike Glyer actually posting this verbatim so he can wring his hands as a poor little victim.

I suppose it would be distinctly odd if I didn’t mention the Hugo Awards

Firstly, thank you to people who voted for me. I’m flattered and that was very generous of you. There were many more of than I remotely expected. Thanks good folk. I’m sorry my nominated receiver never got to give my speech, even if I knew it was most implausible. So here it is anyway, because I think it should be said, and I think it will chafe the Puppy-Kickers undercarriage – which, after their behavior I think is also deserved.

My provided ‘speech’ was Bilbo Baggins Birthday speech (‘Thank you very much’). But on the basis of seeing the News I sent him a message as he was sitting listening to the puppy-kicking before the Hugos, asking him to deliver this message for me on the off chance he got up on stage.

“As a foreigner, I’d like use this moment to express thanks and respect to the US for producing men of the caliber of Spencer Stone, Alek Skarlatos and Anthony Sadler. Us foreign folk owe a debt of gratitude and our freedom to that, and it is too seldom said.”

And I mean that. It matters a lot more than Hugo Awards ever have or ever will. We forget. That shouldn’t happen.

Secondly, we’re being told that the war is now over and the Puppies defeated.

I have to wonder how many of Puppy-kickers know what ‘war’ actually means in terms of what happens and what you see in war. I’d guess not many. That’s our side.

And what it takes to make it ‘over’.

What you saw, Sad Puppy one, was a solitary scouting mission from huge and largely disinterested group, with a distant connection with the Hugo-land. Sort of like a third generation American (of Irish extraction) country singer, going into an Irish themed pub in Liverpool. It was once grand pub, popular with Irish dock-workers, and the singing and the beer were remarkably good. He’d heard his grandmother talk of it, five hundred people, laughing and drinking and singing, so full the walls themselves were bulging.

Only now the bar had a hundred people, mostly come from London, drinking Chardonnay and there was a bloody string quartet playing to a faint patter of applause. They play in a pub in Liverpool because they can’t get into an auditorium in London. But they desperately want to be taken as ‘serious musicians’, so they imitate people who think them beneath contempt, who regard them as untouchables… in a place that calls for and was popular for something else, entirely.

So our Puppy singer stood up in a break and started singing ‘Danny Boy’. He has fine voice and is popular at home, singing to thousands, his concerts sold out, but the local musos and their friends were peeved with his common music, his accent and the fact he was a foreigner, and set on him in a mob of a hundred to one and tossed him out.

Had they listened to his song, clapped politely, he’d come back to say it was great over there, there’d have been a few more Americans in the pub in Liverpool, buying beer and staying in the hotels and B&B’s. Maybe even learning to like string quartets. Instead – Sad Puppies two — he came back angry… and took four of his friends along for the next trip. They tried singing again, and this time the locals did their best to beat them up. A few punches were exchanged, but at twenty to one, there was not a lot they could do. The Londoners tried, but they were a pretty weedy bunch. They celebrated getting rid of him. Forever.

Sad Puppies three – joined by Rabid Puppies, was more like an expeditionary force. There were twenty five of them. And a feller who played the squeeze-box which counted for three, if not five. They actually got to sing. And some of the pub goers started singing along. Well, the London musos couldn’t have that! It was _WAR_. So the String Quartet and friends went back to London and got very man, woman, grandmother and poodle they could find to support them, every last one possible… and they managed to break their own stage and the sound gear, and turf those ‘foreign’ musos out, with many a rude word and sneaky blow when the Americans backs were turned.

And there was no music, but the pub – which charges an entry fee, made lots more money than it had for a long while.

And London Musos cheered “It was war, and we won. It’s over. Those stupid yanks. We tossed them out!”

Now America is far away, and not that many people cared about the Liverpool pub granny talked about. It was hard to get them to bother with a long, expensive trip where, besides one good rendition of Danny Boy, all you could expect for entertainment was a third rate string quartet. But they really, really, didn’t like the insults and attacks on their friends.

And that in a way is the story of WorldCon, and the Hugo Awards. Sad Puppies three was expeditionary force. A hard probe. It was still possible to have turned it into something that benefited all parties in the long term. But the ‘in crowd’ – who no more own the genre than the London string quartet own the Liverpool pub – got their biggest, loudest, most influential people – George Martin, John Scazli, Jim Hines, Charles Stross (representing the very racially diverse women’s voices of modern Science Fiction) and all their friends frantically defending the Hugo Awards from these interlopers. Because it MATTERS to them. They care. It’s the only place they get to play, to be on stage. It had to be defended at all costs. They bought entry for their supporters. They got the Pups badmouthed in their pet media. They brought everything they could to bear on it. They became extremely shrill and unpleasant…

And they mustered a whole 3000-3500 troops. That was it. A trivial number. Less than many noobs sell of their first ever book. Less than Jim Butcher gets into an auditorium to hear him speak at DragonCon.

And that is the whole of their strength.
That is ALL they are.
That’s not sf ‘fandom’. It’s not even a pimple on fandom’s ass.

But they’re being really loud and predictably unpleasant about it. And the behavior at the event itself with the puerile ‘Asterisk’ (which in case you don’t know the history, is sports code for ‘not a real score’ ) The clapping when they ‘broke the stage’ – gave a “No Award” to five categories – and the MC David Gerrold’s encouragement of this – while banning booing of the same, well, ‘Do unto others’. We will remember these things. Most of the damage you did there, you and the slate voting zombies (yes, they voted to order, without reading the work – something that the numbers show the Sad Puppies did not do. But the numbers show very clearly you did) was collateral damage. Authors and editors who had nothing to do with the Puppies you ‘punished’ and cheered with gleeful and vindictive delight as you did so. Some of them were sitting there. Yes, you would enjoy that if it happened to you. Remember it well.

Shrug. I am not offended if you don’t like my work. I really don’t care. In the sea of sf fandom (by which I mean readers), 3500 is virtually irrelevant. Yes, your 3500 will do their level best to make sure I never get published by Tor – which I wouldn’t touch with Bob Mugabe’s willy, nailed to the end of a hundred foot pole, from behind a radiation shield, in a hazmat suit. You’ll, like brave James Nicholl, not be giving me reviews. How bwave! I’m sure I shall miss those zero readers terribly. You will probably, like IIRC Jane Carnell, put up fake bad reviews. Not that that worked too well last time. You’ll –as you threatened, make me suitably unwelcome at Cons I have no interest in attending. You’ll deny me a place on the ToC of publications with… 3500 readers at absolute best. Oh, be still, my beating heart. I don’t really care about your establishment or its piddly 3500 supporters. Badmouthing by you lot is probably a sales advantage, because – as the evidence shows, you don’t have many friends. I don’t even really care that much about granny’s pub, er, the Hugos. Neither do most of us.

But I do care about some of that collateral damage. Toni Weisskopf’s been more than decent to me. To many of us. You’re gonna need more than those 3500.

Your people care. All 3500 of them.

This petty, vindictive loud and stupid behavior is, slowly, making our people care. People who couldn’t be bothered to spend the money before. Yeah, that’s one hell of a ‘victory’.

You’ve not won a war… not when you’ve burned your own villages to stop an enemy taking possession – an enemy that would happily have shared the space. That’s all you’ve done. Burned your own villages. You haven’t even won the battle. You’ve back-slapped yourselves, and yelled abuse and threats (yes, we have screenshots. We collect them.) behaved as you normally do – as an embarrassment to toddlers with diapers that need changing.

Victory in a war means your enemy is dead, or offering surrender.

In your dreams.

And if you think the sad puppies just want to come back and sing on that stage… get the good guys to win, well, I think the rabid pups are more interested in pushing that Cello right up your asterisk, and tossing your stage in the canal so it can’t be fixed.

You know, it sounds more appealing by the minute.

In the meanwhile, we’re going to write our butts off. Write hard. Write adventure, write stories people want. I’m pretty sure most of us can sell those to multiples more than 3500.