Stoked (or not?)
Today's the launch day (aka, the "book birthday" as some people put it) for THE THING IN YELLOW, my short story collection I've mentioned already, so yadda yadda yadda on that, since I've written about it before.
I'll be curious how it fares, as this one may be uniquely qualified to weather the book void better than my others. It's well-suited to be a cult book, basically. Lord knows the Chambers book has continued to entice since 1895, so there's that.
But while I'm stoked about the launch, the recent Stokers Award parade gnawed at me a bit, since I've been Stoker Award-free since 2011. Like not even a nomination or the remotest consideration for my novels and novellas.
Honestly, I don't lose any sleep over this -- the landscape of awarding is always fraught with all sorts of popularity contest machinations, and even the winners (or multiple nominees and also-rans) likely wonder the value of a nomination and/or a win. Not sure if it ever translates into anything tangible.
I guess as a talking point, it's something, I suppose. If someone can claim to be a Stoker Award winner, there's at least an implication there that somebody, somewhere, thought their work was award-winning. And if someone gets nominated a lot, there's that, too. Proof points and such. In the dire quest for readers, being able to claim that likely counts on some level, since readers can be so squirrelly about reading anybody new.
However, as one who's 100% Stoker-remote, I look at it somewhat differently. Is my work without value because the powers-that-be that drive the Stokers never consider my work? I don't believe that. My work is good. Sure, I'm biased, but few realize that nobody out there's a stronger critic of my work than me -- I'm ruthless in my self-critique, but for the sake of devil's advocacy, let's just say I'm biased about the quality of my work.
Does the lack of even a nomination mean my work is devoid of value? And, on the other hand, does the constant nomination of other writers imply that they are superior writers than those who never get Stoker nods? Or are they simply better-placed and/or considered for the awards?
I'm not impugning those who get the nods or the wins, so much as I'm impugning the self-dealing nature of awards in general as criteria of value, and the process behind them.
If a book sells millions but wins no awards, what does that mean, versus a book that barely sells but wins an award (or multiple awards -- not really a risk in horror writing, honestly). Or a book that barely sells and lacks even an award?
Awards say a lot about the award-givers as much as the award-receivers -- the message the givers are trying to put out there, and who gets the proof points, and who doesn't. It's all very postmodern, but do awards mean anything, anymore, beyond the ability to declare that something or someone is "award-winning" -- is that all it does? Awards (and noms) are nice to have, but they're tangential to the process, not central to it. They're a side effect of a process, and are reflective of the process that spawns them. Talk about horror!
This isn't another "American white guy whining about being disregarded" rant; I accept that I'll never get the accolades for my work from "the horror community" -- and I've heard rumors that the Stoker Awards in particular are packed with rampant self-promotion by the aspirants, that they work the HWA like a pipe organ to get considered. I don't work that pipe organ, so my work isn't ever at risk of consideration.
Man Getting Hit by Football
Maybe that's my fault. Perhaps if I enthusiastically (if cynically) greased up the HWA, I'd get a nod -- I mean, I'm not even a member of the HWA (which is another topic unto itself, the value of such associations). I pondered joining it over a decade ago, when I was getting some short stories sold, I briefly considered joining the HWA, but I never did. I didn't see the value there.
And that's actually when the HWA was markedly stronger than it is today. Today's HWA feels like a moribund vestige of a lost publishing world, to be brutally honest. Will the HWA still be around in another decade? I have my doubts. Or if it is, will it just be another luminous revenant stalking around, anointing those who've managed its gladhanding gauntlet successfully?
This might be hubristic folly on my part, or the quixotic idealism of the willful artist, but I believe in the strength of the work as the only meaningful and trustworthy arbiter of value. How, then, is that strength measured?
My work is well-received by the (few) readers who actually read it. I don't have nearly the visibility I'd like for my work, and I don't have any bonus proof points to offer that might give cautious new readers the courage to try me out.
Maybe I'm just wistful, as THE THING IN YELLOW is my last indie horror offering amid a proliferation of disregarded books I've reliably served up to nonexistent readers and very few reviewers, in the near-total absence of accolades, recognition, appreciation, or fandom.
As far as gothic fates go, it's strangely appropriate. I'm like the proverbial ghost departing a séance that never took place, because no one thought to look for me, or knew that I was ever there.
I'll be curious how it fares, as this one may be uniquely qualified to weather the book void better than my others. It's well-suited to be a cult book, basically. Lord knows the Chambers book has continued to entice since 1895, so there's that.
But while I'm stoked about the launch, the recent Stokers Award parade gnawed at me a bit, since I've been Stoker Award-free since 2011. Like not even a nomination or the remotest consideration for my novels and novellas.
Honestly, I don't lose any sleep over this -- the landscape of awarding is always fraught with all sorts of popularity contest machinations, and even the winners (or multiple nominees and also-rans) likely wonder the value of a nomination and/or a win. Not sure if it ever translates into anything tangible.
I guess as a talking point, it's something, I suppose. If someone can claim to be a Stoker Award winner, there's at least an implication there that somebody, somewhere, thought their work was award-winning. And if someone gets nominated a lot, there's that, too. Proof points and such. In the dire quest for readers, being able to claim that likely counts on some level, since readers can be so squirrelly about reading anybody new.
However, as one who's 100% Stoker-remote, I look at it somewhat differently. Is my work without value because the powers-that-be that drive the Stokers never consider my work? I don't believe that. My work is good. Sure, I'm biased, but few realize that nobody out there's a stronger critic of my work than me -- I'm ruthless in my self-critique, but for the sake of devil's advocacy, let's just say I'm biased about the quality of my work.
Does the lack of even a nomination mean my work is devoid of value? And, on the other hand, does the constant nomination of other writers imply that they are superior writers than those who never get Stoker nods? Or are they simply better-placed and/or considered for the awards?
I'm not impugning those who get the nods or the wins, so much as I'm impugning the self-dealing nature of awards in general as criteria of value, and the process behind them.
If a book sells millions but wins no awards, what does that mean, versus a book that barely sells but wins an award (or multiple awards -- not really a risk in horror writing, honestly). Or a book that barely sells and lacks even an award?
Awards say a lot about the award-givers as much as the award-receivers -- the message the givers are trying to put out there, and who gets the proof points, and who doesn't. It's all very postmodern, but do awards mean anything, anymore, beyond the ability to declare that something or someone is "award-winning" -- is that all it does? Awards (and noms) are nice to have, but they're tangential to the process, not central to it. They're a side effect of a process, and are reflective of the process that spawns them. Talk about horror!
This isn't another "American white guy whining about being disregarded" rant; I accept that I'll never get the accolades for my work from "the horror community" -- and I've heard rumors that the Stoker Awards in particular are packed with rampant self-promotion by the aspirants, that they work the HWA like a pipe organ to get considered. I don't work that pipe organ, so my work isn't ever at risk of consideration.
Man Getting Hit by Football
Maybe that's my fault. Perhaps if I enthusiastically (if cynically) greased up the HWA, I'd get a nod -- I mean, I'm not even a member of the HWA (which is another topic unto itself, the value of such associations). I pondered joining it over a decade ago, when I was getting some short stories sold, I briefly considered joining the HWA, but I never did. I didn't see the value there.
And that's actually when the HWA was markedly stronger than it is today. Today's HWA feels like a moribund vestige of a lost publishing world, to be brutally honest. Will the HWA still be around in another decade? I have my doubts. Or if it is, will it just be another luminous revenant stalking around, anointing those who've managed its gladhanding gauntlet successfully?
This might be hubristic folly on my part, or the quixotic idealism of the willful artist, but I believe in the strength of the work as the only meaningful and trustworthy arbiter of value. How, then, is that strength measured?
My work is well-received by the (few) readers who actually read it. I don't have nearly the visibility I'd like for my work, and I don't have any bonus proof points to offer that might give cautious new readers the courage to try me out.
Maybe I'm just wistful, as THE THING IN YELLOW is my last indie horror offering amid a proliferation of disregarded books I've reliably served up to nonexistent readers and very few reviewers, in the near-total absence of accolades, recognition, appreciation, or fandom.
As far as gothic fates go, it's strangely appropriate. I'm like the proverbial ghost departing a séance that never took place, because no one thought to look for me, or knew that I was ever there.
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