Dear prize-winning reader,
I’m back from a whirlwind weekend in Birmingham, after attending the British Fantasy Society’s annual shindig, Fantasycon. It was chock-full of funny, friendly people who write weird or unusual fiction. It’s always amusing to notice how unassuming we appear — until you look through the pages of our fiction. We offload our dark and troubling characters out of our heads and onto the pages.
Birmingham, I discovered, is a party city and under perpetual construction. There are gorgeous buildings and beautiful canals, endless road works, and a slightly manic nightlife that begins during the afternoon. We had balmy weather for September, so I was concerned when I noticed the ‘no air conditioning’ sign in my hotel lobby, but when I checked into my tiny room (the bed took up most of the space) I noticed a large fan, which thrummed a cooling breeze across me and out the windows that could only open about 50 centimetres.
I spend very little time in hotel rooms when I’m attending a conference, so its compact nature didn’t bother me. It had a comfortable bed, a constant supply of hot water, and all surfaces were clean. Those basics are the bedrock of a good hotel stay.
Travel these days is an exhausting experience. ‘Hurry up and wait’ is its maxim. The best way for me to float through the gauntlet of obstacles is to arrive early, bring reading material and a pair of headphones. I have sensitivities to certain noises, and there is nothing that frays all my nerves and patience more than a barrage of frequencies all tuned to my specific irritation levels. It’s interesting what sounds people find tolerable. There are many that require a supreme effort on my part of ignore unless I introduce a counteracting frequency to block them. This can be a problem when I’m in an enclosed environment with friends and I’m trying to listen to them while my brain is also relaying a conversation behind me at the same volume. It takes intense concentration on my part to follow the preferred chat and it quickly erodes my capacity to withstand the buffeting babel.
On a plane or a busy café I can turn up the volume on my earbuds to drown out the competing signal, but when in the company of friends it can be difficult. It’s probably why I’ve never enjoyed being in busy pubs or restaurants. Especially one with a variety of signals: big screens projecting moving images, along with loud music, and a constant barrage of conversation. Lots of spaces have terrible acoustics and the noise bounces around. For me, this is a hellish experience.
Throughout my life I thought I was a bit anti-social, but over the years I’ve learned more about sensory overload, and I’ve realised that I simply don’t have the brain wiring to cope with those places. When I hit my limit I must move or go somewhere else. This is simply the way it is. Good luck to those people who thrive in a loud and bustling location.
There’s a lot to be said for knowing your capacities and accepting them as part of your nature. It’s nothing to ridicule or to fight against.
During the weekend the BFS Awards were announced and it made me ponder the system of introducing an artificial competition between creative people. I’m probably a bit unusual in that I’ve experienced awards from a number of perspectives: nominating or voting for people as a member of an organisation — for instance, the Horror Writers Association — being nominated for an award, being on a selection committee to create a short-list of nominees, being a juror on awards (literature, comics and film), and even administrating an award behind the scenes.
I’ve also heard every kind of grumble there can be made against how awards are organised or voted upon, and especially the final winners. Many creative people are not built for competition. Most of us like our peers and enjoy their work, and don’t enjoy the pressure of being conscripted for a literary horse race. Sure, there are the ruthlessly ambitious types in every walk of life, but among the writers and artists I know the process brings up a variety of conflicting emotions. It is humbling and immensely gratifying to have your work singled out for praise and to be among a shortlist of terrific work. It may even result in a boost of recognition and sales. Yet, it can be a source of anxiety and pressure. Attending an awards ceremony when you are a nominee is a tense scene.
Based on my experience there is no perfect voting system. All of them have their pros and their cons, from how they are organised and promoted, to how the shortlists of nominees are selected, whether finalists are decided by a jury or a popular vote, and how the awards ceremony is run.
Popular votes are both the most democratic and the easiest to manipulate. Simply put, most people forget to vote. Therefore the people who promote themselves the most, or who have a large fanbase, generally do the best. Who hasn’t received multiple reminders of the deadline to vote and mutter, ‘Oh yes, I’ll do that closer to the day’, and then realise a half an hour before (or ten minutes too late) that you’ve forgotten to cast your vote on time?
Having been the person sending out the reminders to vote, I can inform you that the vast majority vote on the last day, and many in the final hour. So, when I hear people complain about who wins an award, I throttle my instinct to ask ‘And did you vote?’
I remember a writer confessing to me that he refrained from voting for himself when he was nominated (he considered it poor etiquette) and then discovered he’d lost by one vote. At least he voted.
Awards are a bit like busses, eventually another one will roll around. Truly good work does get noticed. It might not win an award, but it will likely be shortlisted for the prestigious ones.
Though they have their shortcomings, juried awards are generally the best kind. There is a conscientious attempt by the administrators to gather all the qualifying material for the jurors to consider. All the work is viewed and considered. They often depend upon publishers or producers (if it’s a film award) to get the material to the jury, however. A jury cannot deliberate upon work they have not received — this might seem obvious, but no doubt there are many occasions where a qualifying work simply misses the deadline through oversight.
Yet, when you whittle all the material that’s produced in a year down to a carefully curated shortlist there is often very little between them in terms of quality. This can result in a lively conversation and a battle between the favourites of the jurors. A decision must be made. In the end very fine distinctions may come into play that determine the winner. Sometimes, a good case can be made for all the nominees
The useful consideration about this kind of jury award is that if you lose you are in the best company. It’s a struggle to get picked for that final list. It’s corny, but having your work appear on any awards short list is an honour.
And yet… I know people who have been consistently overlooked, or they have been nominated many times and never won anything. In such cases it is up to their fans/friends and/or publishers to fight on their behalf: to nominate them, review them, and regularly remind everyone that their work is worthy of more attention. Writers/artists/filmmakers can’t be expected to flog their own wares unceasingly.
People forget the value of recommendations (in person or on social media) or online reviews, or asking book clubs to discuss their favourite titles. We should all remember to pay it forward and help promote people whose work we feel deserves attention. My policy is never to add attention to work I don’t like by complaining about it online. I’d prefer to praise and support what I enjoy.
While at Fantasycon I was on a panel devoted to recommending texts, and I realised that I have not highlighted many books in this newsletter. That’s because I consume far more film/TV than I do fiction. I do read a lot of Substacks, so I recommended several to the audience. Overall, I read far more non-fiction texts because I’m always trying to learn and widen my knowledge base, and it’s where I discover inspiration for future work.
I plan to correct this omission in the future, so I will make an effort to work my way through my extensive fiction to-be-read pile, and offer some suggestions.
If you are looking for new material to read, and your tastes skew of fantasy/dark fiction, then take a look at the shortlists for this year’s BFS Awards — you’re unlikely to go wrong with any of them.
Thanks again to Dan Coxon for organising a launch of his and Richard V Hirst’s essay anthology, Writing the Future: Essays on Crafting Science Fiction. Despite the early hour of 10am on Saturday, a chirpy crowd of well-wishers turned up. Due to unforeseen circumstances, Dan and I were the only ones who could attend the launch, and we did our best to entice the crowd with conversation about the essays.
My 2000 AD piece, ‘The Eternal Apocalypse: How British Comic 2000 AD Remains Relevant’, is about the iconic comic book universe and the many worlds it has spawned. It was so nice to meet a representation of 2000 AD fans at the event. Thanks to everyone who bought a copy of the book!
It’s always a pleasure to meet people who buy my work, thank them in person, and sign my name on a copy of the text.
All hail the reader! You are the vital supporter of our art.
(Now go out and recommend some of your favourite works.)