Resembling Lepus WON the Aurealis Award for Best SF Novella

Oooh boy - that was a thing. Pinch me.

Aurealis Award in situ

I’m a writer, not a photographer, dammit!

First, when the Aurealis folks tell you to prepare a speech no matter what you think your chances are... Do that. Should I be so fortunate to be in this position again, acceptance words will be written!

Lessons were learned.

BUT. It wasn't false modesty when I've been saying for months to anyone who would listen, that it's an honour to be nominated but there's no chance of me actually winning due to the calibre of my fellow nominees. They included the following high-profile and well-regarded authors: T R Napper (who then took out the Best Science Fiction Novel award with 36 STREETS), Garth Nix and Matthew Reilly. I truly believed that I was in fine company - and what an amazing fucking thing it was for my name to be among those giants - but that would be the end of it. I even created an “Aurealis Award Nominated” badge. That’s how sure I was.

What a dick.

Another winner aptly named the authors in their category as an, "intimidation" of fellow nominees. Truer words….

So there I was, speech-less and gobsmacked and struggling not to throw up.

I hope I thanked the Aurealis judges.

I hope I thanked my publisher, Grey Matter Press.

I hoped there was grace in my torrent of unprepared and unexpected remarks.

I really don't know what I said and I will never seek out the livestream recording to cement my fears that I looked like the proveribal deer in headlights. My best friend, and beautiful support human for the night, told me I didn't totally fuck up so that's good enough for me.

No passing out. No actual vomit. Winning in all the ways that night!

It was a tremendous honour to be at the event and to not only meet authors I've only ever spoken to online, but also see some true heroes of the genre flitting about the room. Me, a first timer to the Aurealis Awards and an extreme introvert, valiantly struggling through small talk without a drink in my hand... One for the books!

Still: go you little imitation bunny, go!

The Great Lurgy and Pantsing and Story Bones

I could blame the lack of blogging on my job. I could also try and blame it on the amazing bronchial infection I acquired for the entire month of September. Still recovering from it - it was nasty in all sorts of ways.

I’m tired all the time and, though it wasn’t Covid, I know people who had Covid who recovered in days. Did I pick the wrong virus?

I jest. Covid isn’t something to fuck around with. Some days in late September, when the antibiotics were making me all manner of bleurgh, I thought this thing was here to stay. But I’m slowly coming out the other side and realised a few things:

• It’s hard for me to watch any streaming TV when I’m sick. I just don’t (sorry, Picard) engage.

• Day sleeping is the best (night sleeping, not so much).

• If I can prop myself upright and have a blanket and tea and honey on hand, I can write. I wrote an entire piece during this time.* 16k words. Done.

• Big dogs need walking. They get downright surly, sulky and develop a pall of resentment over their eyes when they don’t get a decent walk once a day. Fair enough.

I wrote the piece, yes, but this story or concept has been writing itself in my head for months. I need to think about a world and its characters a LOT before putting pen to paper. I’m a pantser through-and-through, but if I haven’t “written” a couple of drafts in the old head-cloud, had some conversations with the folks who are going to be in the eventual pages, I don’t start. I take notes by hand, I dictate a sentence here and there in emails to myself, but no proper writing until I’m comfy.

So this piece became a real story within a few days, but its bones were laid months before.

When your job conflicts with your passion - it sucks!

My job is intense and the deadlines are tight. For the last month it's been pretty normal and breezy, but a new project just dropped with a super-short turnaround - just as my book is being released. Next week (including on Book Birthday!) I'll be locked in a room with a team of smart folks nutting out a solution and formulating responses. We'll have coffee foisted upon us as well as food to ensure nothing distracts us.

But.

But 'my precious' is being released and that's a big fucking deal for me.

It will be a real challenge to try to carve out time to give it the attention it needs on the day, and in the days after release.

It's important that I find the time to thank the people who are promoting it - off their own back, just because they are amazing humans - and saying nice things about it, and just being a generous community of authors and reviewers and publishers. It's something I simply need to do.

I'm hoping I can give it the attention it needs.

The conflict between job and passion/vocation is constant for me. It's not a new problem for any artist, but it's a puzzler.

(Here’s where I should talk about tips for mitigating any issues and how to achieve balance and “Here’s the top five things I do!” - but I haven’t figured it out yet. Damn you, work ethic!)

Countdown to R-Day

One month out from releasing RESEMBLING LEPUS (don't try and say that when you're hammered!) into the wild.

This li’l dude…

Just like a wild rabbit, uncontrolled conditions and reactions are in its future. Some will be stellar, and some will be 'meh' and some will be scathing. Not every book is everyone's cup of tea. I write for me. I'm happy. That should be the end.

Going further down that rabbit hole - last bunny pun I promise - I often ponder the frailty/robustness of artists' egos. I mean, even those of us who shy away from attention - any attention; birthdays, public speaking, small talk, Karaoke - are still trying to put books out there into the hands of strangers who all have platforms on which they can shout out their opinions. Nothing wrong at all with posting stuff you're passionate about. I always post about things I've enjoyed and love.

I might just have to switch off the socials for a bit, though, while this book enjoys its first forays in the big, wild world. My ego is pretty good, but I think many of us have imposter syndrome and who needs external doubt to add to that which is already bouncing around in our skulls? Not me. I got other stuff to write. (Ghost story this time!)

One month to go.

How much overthinking can I get done during that time? Plenty :)

2022 - How the fuck did you get here so fast?

2022 is the Year of the Tiger. I wish it had been the Year of the Rabbit, but I timed it badly. No complaints. Although. I would like to clear something up about this website and my apparent hatred of a certain cute and fluffy creature…

I had a conversation with a coworker - who shall not be named - and it went a little something like this.

———-

Anon Coworker: Why do you hate rabbits?

Me: I don't. I actually love rabbits. They are one of my favourite animals.

Anon Coworker: But I looked at your website. Why all the bunny murder?

Me: Again I really loved rabbits. I have some in my garden. I watch them every day - not in a stalkery way. I think they're absolutely beautiful and there but for the grace of God go the human species. Aside from our slaughtered farm animals - special mention to chickens who are the most slaughtered and abused animal on the planet :( - the rabbit is one of the most maligned, hunted, hated, experimented on, and exploited creatures.

They are simultaneously considered vermin and a pest (at best - a plague at worst) and yet adorable enough to inspire our Easter chocolates, stuffed toys, and other apparel - and our fiction. Just ask Beatrix Potter and Richard Adams. And the dude who created Donnie Darko.

This is probably why they are mentioned (featured heavily / mythologised / championed) in most of my fiction.

Anon Coworker: Those pictures tho.

Me: Sigh.
———-

So go team Bun Bun.

And go genre Bun-Fi (Thanks to @ChetMontaigne for that one :)

Hare by Rachael Hammond

Go check out her incredible animal (and bird and reptile) drawings on her website.

This one is on my wall at home.

We are all Desmond now

Victoria has been through one lockdown, an "easing of restrictions," and now this second lockdown; we're two weeks in.

This morning I was acutely aware of the alarm, the shuffle of dog biscuits in the plastic container, the click of the chicken coop door, the pop of the cat food container, the water hammer as I turned the tap off after brushing my teeth, the snap of the deodorant lid, the sigh as I looked into the mirror to make sure I was "camera ready" for work. How many times have I done this now?

Yeah. I could work it out, but that requires looking at a calendar. Nope.

I’m probably not the first (or even in the first couple of hundred) to make this comparison, but I did find myself humming, "Make your own kind of music, even if nobody else sings along."

It's Friday.