On the road again: Chicon, day 6
Last night, after visiting multiple parties and working, I slept for the better part of eight hours. It was glorious. I awoke feeling merely tired, as opposed to sick and exhausted, so I was pleased with my body's progress.
After some work, late brunch was at a well-reviewed vegetarian place, Green Zebra. The food was decent but no more, a far cry from what the reviews described. Not a bad meal, but not really worth the cab ride to the restaurant.
More work, then time hanging with friends, checking out the dealers' room, and so on. I didn't want to miss the Hugo Awards ceremony, so dinner ended up being a quick burger, chips, and soda at the once-famous (courtesy of Saturday Night Live back in the Ackroyd and Belushi period) Billy Goat Tavern.
From there, we headed to the main ballroom for the awards ceremony, stood in long lines for a long time, and ultimately found seats two-thirds of the way back in the large room.
The two-and-a-half-hour ceremony went well, and Toastmaster/MC John Scalzi did his usual fine job of running the show and being entertaining. I cheered for the winners and felt bad for the losers. I'm particularly happy to be able to report that my pal and cover artist for No Going Back, John Picacio, finally won the Hugo Award for Best Professional Artist. I say "finally" because this was his eighth nomination. In
Watching the Hugo Awards ceremony is always bittersweet for me--and, I suspect, for most writers and artists. Realistically, I am likely never to be nominated, much less win, and that is a hard bit of realism to swallow. Still, as I have to remind myself regularly, in the end there is only the work. It is all I can control and all I can do, and when I hope for awards or bigger sales or greater recognition or whatever, that is my ego screaming, and I need to learn to ignore it. That is a lesson I seem to be taking a very long time to learn.
After some work, late brunch was at a well-reviewed vegetarian place, Green Zebra. The food was decent but no more, a far cry from what the reviews described. Not a bad meal, but not really worth the cab ride to the restaurant.
More work, then time hanging with friends, checking out the dealers' room, and so on. I didn't want to miss the Hugo Awards ceremony, so dinner ended up being a quick burger, chips, and soda at the once-famous (courtesy of Saturday Night Live back in the Ackroyd and Belushi period) Billy Goat Tavern.
From there, we headed to the main ballroom for the awards ceremony, stood in long lines for a long time, and ultimately found seats two-thirds of the way back in the large room.
The two-and-a-half-hour ceremony went well, and Toastmaster/MC John Scalzi did his usual fine job of running the show and being entertaining. I cheered for the winners and felt bad for the losers. I'm particularly happy to be able to report that my pal and cover artist for No Going Back, John Picacio, finally won the Hugo Award for Best Professional Artist. I say "finally" because this was his eighth nomination. In
Watching the Hugo Awards ceremony is always bittersweet for me--and, I suspect, for most writers and artists. Realistically, I am likely never to be nominated, much less win, and that is a hard bit of realism to swallow. Still, as I have to remind myself regularly, in the end there is only the work. It is all I can control and all I can do, and when I hope for awards or bigger sales or greater recognition or whatever, that is my ego screaming, and I need to learn to ignore it. That is a lesson I seem to be taking a very long time to learn.
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