Day 35. 30 pages, 14,732 words.
Shit, I have no time for anything in-depth now, I’m going to enjoy my weekend as much as possible.
The Hugo finalists are now up for election by Worldcon members. I had a moment of petulance where I was just going to vote for Chuck Tingle and tell every other category and finalist to fuck off because I don’t care about the Hugos, but in the end I gave them a fair go.
I still have my extreme doubts about the “it’s about quality” concept for the Hugos. It still seems that, sure, quality is important but to even get your foot in the finalists’ door you need to have quantity, and by that I mean “quality in terms of your work, quantity in terms of viewers, pluggers, backers, and people talking about you”. And I don’t have that.
Nothing for it but to work on getting it. And forget about the Hugos in the meantime. In terms of importance, they just dropped back to basically zero in relation to my actually writing books. Fuck ‘em.
I also got probably-accepted into some part or other of the Worldcon program. So that’s exciting. Maybe I can drag the enormous chip on my shoulder about independent publishing and popularity contests and all the bullshit that comes with attempting to create something and live while doing it, and take part in a panel on the subject.
Sounds like fun.