We made it home about 9 a.m. CaST.
I might have slept three hours on the train. And maybe half an hour in the car home. After breakfast from Hudson Street Deli, and after hugging and feeding the cats, we went back to bed until sometime after one this afternoon.
I wanted to make a comprehensive post about the weekend, though it turns out I'm still too weary to be terribly articulate. I haven't slept much or eaten especially well for a few days now. I need to rest so that I can get back to work. But now, and without further ado:
Yes! I won two (TWO, count 'em TWO) World Fantasy awards, both Best Collection – for The Ape's Wife and Other Tales – and Best Short Fiction – for "The Prayer of Ninety Cats." I'm still stunned, and I'm still sorta smiling. I am very, very pleased. I am proud, and I love my Howies. It was also nice having wine for "breakfast."*
Congratulations to Bill Schafer at Subterranean Press who not only published both those works, but who also won the Special Award – Professional. And congratulations to everyone else, all the winners and the nominees.
I went to the podium the first time meaning to begin with something like, "First, I want to thank Harlan Ellison, Peter Straub, and Neil Gaiman, because I probably wouldn't be standing here if they hadn't lent me their strong shoulders to stand on." Instead, I said "I am Providence, bitches!." Jesus, Caitlín. I mentioned the wine for breakfast, right? Also, I forgot to thank my agent, who was sitting there in the audience.
It was my first World Fantasy Convention since Chicago in 1996 and only my third WFC ever. My first was New Orleans in 1994, which was also my first convention.
Tomorrow I'll have more to say about the weekend, and I'll have more photos. And I'll also write something about my complicated and mixed feelings regarding the controversy that has emerged regarding HPL's likeness being used as the WFA. Meanwhile, read what Elizabeth Bear (matociquala) has to say. Also, note that the Miéville quote on Lovecraft in Bear's entry exemplifies the mixed feelings of so many, as Miéville has also said, "I think Lovecraft is an astonishing, visionary writer." This is not a simple matter, and it should not be approached as such.
The sun's sinking. For all you poor ol' Eastern Standard Time slobs, it's only 3:26, which is far, far, far too soon for the sun to be setting.
* Any meal I eat within three hours of waking counts as breakfast.
Photograph Copyright © 2014 by Caitlín R. Kiernan