Nebula Awards

You know, every writer— and I imagine most everyone else— has an inner Veruca Salt.  Not the band, though you could have one of those  in your brain too probably,  but the girl in the red dress from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and its various film adaptations, the one who begins every sentence with “I want— !”  She’s sort of like the Creature from the Id, only musical.

Controlling one’s inner Veruca can be trying, especially during— y’know— award season.

So when a writer notes that, for example, nominations for the Nebula Awards have begun, it’s probably better to summon one’s inner Uriah Heep. (Not the band, the . . . well, you get the idea.)

Because what you really want to write is something like this:

“I’ve noticed that nominations for the Nebula Awards began officially today, and if an ‘umble person such as myself may be so bold in the august presence of you sagacious, discriminating readers, I would like to recommend to Your SFWA Worthies’ attention my poor, miserable novel Deep State, published nearly a year ago and languishing in deep obscurity in the long months since.  If Your Excellencies retain some pleasing memory of the novel, however minor, may I ‘umbly solicit your recommendation for a Nebula Award, which you may give by clicking the above link, with scarcely any trouble to yourselves.”

While of  course the inner Veruca Salt is screaming “I WANT THAT NOVEL AWARD!  I’VE NEVER HAD A NOVEL AWARD, THOUGH I’VE BEEN NOMINATED SO OFTEN THAT EVERYONE THINKS I’VE GOT ONE, AND IT’S JUST NOT FAIR!!! That award is MINE!  MINE!  MINE!  And if I don’t get it, I’m going to ANONYMOUSLY SLAG THE OTHER NOMINEES ON THEIR AMAZON PAGES and I’m going to TURN OVER THE TABLE AT THE BANQUET and SCREAM ‘I DON’T NEED YOU!!!  I DON’T NEED ANY OF YOU!!!’ And then I’ll just SCREAM!!!!!“

So really, you don’t want to unleash your inner Veruca.  Ever.  Because we all know what happened to her.