I’ve been too busy this week to share how my Nebula Awards weekend went—I’d barely recovered from the redeye home when Geoff Landis and Mary Turzillo dropped by to spend the night on their way to Balticon—so these seven pics will have to stand in for a full report.

At the San Jose Airport Thursday with Cynthia Felice, who sat immediately in front of me on the flight from Denver. And as it turned out, Robin Wayne Baily sat in front of her! (more…)

There was no Instagram back in 2004—but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from Instagramming the 2004 Nebula Awards weekend!

Early tomorrow morning, I leave for San Jose to attend the 2014 Nebula Awards weekend. So what better time than now to take a few peeks at the same event held a decade ago in Seattle.

Slightly younger Robert Silverberg meets much younger Robert Silverberg

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The Nebulas Awards banquet was held last night in San Jose, and usually, I’d have been there. But this year, I wanted to attend the the March George Formby Society Convention in Blackpool, and so something had to give—which meant the Nebulas as well as this year’s World Horror Convention in New Orleans were out.

So I amused myself this weekend by looking back two years to my photos from 2003 Nebula Awards weekend and sharing them on Twitter, but thought I should gather them together here as well.

So get ready to flashback to a gentler, more innocent time …

Scott Edelman (with butterfly) and Bill Shunn

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I ran across this photo over at Locus of me and Andy Duncan and Ellen Datlow (with Wil McCarthy in the background) at the 2001 Nebula Awards in Los Angeles, and all I could think was … now there’s an image in desperate need of a caption!

So, friends, it’s up to you to provide one. What could it be that we’re discussing so intently? And more importantly …

What exactly is Ellen measuring with her fingers?

When our fearless leader John Scalzi threatened to bring his ukulele to SFWA’s Nebula Awards weekend last month, I knew I had to do the same. (Bring, not threaten, that is.) And unindicted co-conspirator David Bartell, another science fictional uker, brought his along as well.

Saturday afternoon, in the lull between the end of programming and the beginning of the banquet, we found a quiet spot to jam. And luckily, Liza Groen Trombi happened by to snap this picture, which should appear in the next issue of Locus.

For those who don’t know what we all look like, those smiling faces belong to (from left to right), me, John, and Dave. (And don’t worry—I put on a tie, too, before the festivities began.)

I’m hoping that by the next incarnation of the science fiction merry-go-round, a few more of you secret SF ukulele players (you know who you are) will decide to join us.

A show of hands—which of you will be bringing your ukes along to the Chicago Worldcon?

The 2012 Nebula Awards banquet was held Saturday, May 19, 2012, at the Hyatt Regency Crystal City. So why am I only getting around to sharing video of the event with you now?

Because the file you’ll see below was 4 gigabytes, and expected to take 15 hours to upload to YouTube with the puny Internet service I get here in the backwoods, meaning I’d only want to start it chugging along if I had plans to be away for the day and not expecting to have to do anything else online. And since yesterday was going to be an offline, wandering the world kind of day, I was finally able to get the video up.

Unfortunately, the battery of my Flip camera died after slightly more than an hour, right in the middle of Connie Willis accepting her Grand Master Award. I recorded the remaining half hour using my iPhone, but its microphone is so poor that those speaking on stage are barely audible. I may upload the rest someday, but believe me, unless I can tweak the audio, it’ll seem like pantomime.

But what you can see here is choice. Walter Jon Williams is entertaining as always, astronaut Mike Fincke is inspiring, and the tributes to Octavia Butler are moving, so I hope you still enjoy what’s there.

On another note—if you’re aware of a camcorder as convenient to slip in a pocket as a Flip that delivers equally as good picture and audio quality but with a longer lasting battery, let me know!

2011 is over and done with, so I thought I’d look back and see which of my posts were read the most last year.

One thing that’s clear is you’re all as interested in the issues raised by those Sharon Moody paintings of comics books as I am—my initial commentary on the matter was my most-clicked post of the year (almost virally so), and 3 of the top 10 posts were directly related to the case. (Which means you’ll want to check back in a week after I see the paintings in person Saturday.)

Here are the stories you read the most:

1. A few words in defense of Jack Kirby, Sal Buscema, Irv Novick, and other anonymized artists

2. Optometrist says blonde drivers “much more dangerous” than brunettes

3. Win $200 by making my zombie play into a mini-movie

4. Brian Bolland’s brilliantly blistering rebuttal

5. A few further thoughts on the artwork of Sharon Moody

6. It’s not too late to attend last weekend’s Nebula Awards

7. Can you identify this romance comic?

8. My favorite photo from San Diego Comic-Con: Pat and Dick Lupoff

9. Can you recognize this face?

10. Wall Street architect literally occupies Wall Street in 1931

I just woke from a bad dream about John Kessel, and now I can’t get back to sleep.

I was at a Nebula Awards ceremony, seated one table away from John. He was called upon to say a few words about science fiction poetry (and thinking about it now, I have no idea why, since there are so many other topics in which he’s more of an expert), but instead of rising and walking to the podium, he just sat there, mumbled a word or two, and fell silent. Maybe he’s forgotten his speech, I thought, and so with one of my feet, I slid over a copy of a recent volume of the Nebula Awards anthology which I just happened to have at the banquet and which just happened to have an essay of his in it. I figured it might remind him of what he wanted to say. But though I pushed the book at him, bumping it into one of his feet, he didn’t respond, and his chin dropped to his chest, and I got worried.

As the silence grew, and no one did anything, I got up and knelt by John, calling his name. He didn’t respond, and so I pressed my fingers against his throat, searching for a pulse. I waited, unsure whether I could feel anything. First I thought there was a pulse, then I thought there wasn’t. But in either case, since he wasn’t telling me to get my hand off his throat, I knew something was very wrong.

Strangely, no one else had yet taken any action (they all just sat there!), and I pulled John to the floor, stretched him out, and called for someone to get a doctor. I shouted John’s name over and over, thinking that I’d better start CPR, since no one else seemed to be doing anything. I kept shouting his name as I woke, and found myself in bed, thankful it was only a dream.

And then I lay there, thinking … even though it’s 4:45 a.m., and I need lots more sleep for the day to come, there’s no way I’m getting it now.

Until I thought … maybe if I wrote about the dream and shared it with you, my mood might pass, and I could fall back to sleep.

So that’s what I’m trying. I’ll let you know later if it works.

Meanwhile, I hope John’s okay. And I’m sure glad I don’t believe in omens.

I had a wonderful time at the Nebulas last weekend, which I guess is kind of redundant, since I always have a wonderful time at the Nebulas. I missed last year’s, which were held in Florida, the first I’d skipped in about 20 years, because with two international trips planned for 2010—World Horror in Brighton and Worldcon in Melbourne—something had to give. So I was glad this year’s Nebula weekend was being held in my backyard.

Well, sort of my backyard. The Washington Hilton was 100 miles away, but that was close enough to make it feel local. So I hopped in the car mid-afternoon and drove to D.C., always a hellish thing to do. Once I parked and checked in, the first members of the tribe I found were a group in the bar which included Myke Cole, John Joseph Adams, and a guy I’d never met before who was scribbling away in a sketchpad. I commented that his drawings reminded me of the art of Basil Wolverton, and he was astonished, because he loves Basil Wolverton, and no one had ever caught on to that resemblance before. (Guess having been into comics since I was a bean has its advantages.)

Turns out I was talking to Barry Deutsch, who was nominated for this year’s Andre Norton Award for Hereville: How Mirka Got Her Sword.

We had a good, long talk about artists most modern comics fans don’t remember, such as Lou Fine and Reed Crandall, and I pulled out my iPad to show him the Eisner-esque Joe Kubert comic Jew Gangster. Meeting someone new who was also entertaining was a nice way to start the weekend.

Next it was off to dinner with John Kessel, Liza Groen Trombi, Paolo Bacigalupi, and John Joseph Adams. We went to Meskerem, an Ethiopian restaurant, which happened to be JJA’s first time with that cuisine, resulting in a lot of teasing.

The fact that an Ethiopian virgin was present led to us discussing other exotic foods, such as the guinea pig I’d had in Quito and the durian Paolo had eaten. A warning: One result of that discussion is that I’ll be bringing durian to Balticon Saturday, which Paolo and I will crack open and share with the masses. So if you’re there, and are adventurous, make sure you’re watching me on Twitter so you hear the call!

When we returned to the hotel, I happened to be discussing Michael Blumlein with John Kessel and Paul Park when the strangest moment of the weekend occurred. A woman in the lobby who had nothing at all to do with the Nebulas perked up at the mention of Blumlein’s name. It turned out that her sister is married to his brother! We chatted a bit, which might not have been such a good thing. I hope we didn’t lower Michael in her eyes by the mere fact of our knowing him!

Then came the evening reception to honor the nominees. You should have been there! Well, actually, you can be there, since I was there, and I happen to be a dangerous guy with a Flip camera. So here’s SFWA President John Scalzi, aided by Steven Silver, handing out certificates and pins to those finalists who were present. (more…)

As part of my lifelong attempt to prove to the world that I have no shame, I’ve just uploaded a fifth excerpt from my gig as Toastmaster at the 2000 Nebula Awards. In this clip, I explain to the crowd one of the important differences between the Nebulas and the Oscars.

Those of you who were there or who heard from others about that sordid moment will know what to expect. As for the rest of you, well, you’ll just have to decide whether you’re brave enough.

There are some things which once seen cannot be unseen. The choice is yours. You were warned.