I learned last night that my sf story "Galápagos" (from Eclipse 3, edited by Johnathan Strahan) is one of six works to make the honor list for the James Tiptree Award for 2010. The Tiptree press release says of the story, "...a mysterious space disaster, a terrifying alien reproductivity, a story reminiscent of the work of Octavia Butler. There can be no higher praise." And I say, indeed, and thank you. I'm flattered to be so honored. I am far more pleased, though, to see that one of the two winners of this year's Tiptree Award is Greer Gilman (
The award is named for Alice B. Sheldon, who wrote under the pseudonym James Tiptree, Jr. By her impulsive choice of a masculine pen name, Sheldon helped break down the imaginary barrier between "women’s writing" and "men’s writing." Her fine stories were eagerly accepted by publishers and won many awards in the field. Many years later, after she had written some other work under the female pen name of Raccoona Sheldon, it was discovered that she was female. The discovery led to a great deal of discussion of what aspects of writing, if any, are essentially gendered. The name "Tiptree" was selected to illustrate the complex role of gender in writing and reading.
And that was yesterday's bright spot. Otherwise, the day was a slick black sheen of shit and broken glass, placed just so to punctuate the middle of the month. I'd considered cataloging all the day's foulness, at length and with lots of exposition, but, honestly, I find I just don't care anymore. The good news is that all lives come with an expiration date.
I do very much want to thank
Well, sure, Shaharrazad made Level 79 last night, but seeking solace and/or any sense of achievement in WoW (or Second Life, et al.), I'm aware that's pretty fucking pathetic.