You have to be versatile if you set your sights on dominating the “no-niche niche.” Or if you’re going to casually challenge a friend by shouting, “Race you to the Hugo, Boss!” and running, gleefully, laughing maniacally, down the back alleys of the Internet, hoping not to get caught by the SFWA’s imposter police. That friend, of course, is Mitchell Allen, of Morpho Designs: Reflections on the mutability of the interwoven Internet, who has awarded me the “Versatile Blogger” award:
“Were you drunk?” snickered Prunebutt, when I informed my Muse that we’d be writing speculative fiction, this year, in hopes of winning a Hugo.
“Er, no.”
“Still haven’t come down off that adrenaline high from competing in Surviving the Blog, eh?”
“Maybe. Your point would be?”
Have you ever seen an angry dust bunny rolling on the floor, laughing hysterically?
“Drink some more coffee,” ordered my Muse. “Then reread what you just wrote to Mitchell. Think about it re-e-e-e-ally carefully.”
I reread it. Meant every word. Dare ya, Mitch.
“Why don’t you aim higher – maybe see which of you can win a Hugo and a Nebula in the same year?”
I grabbed the chortling, evil fuzzbutt and threw him under the bed – contemplating, even as I did so, his potential as a character in a short story of speculative fiction. The idea had a certain twisted merit. I’ll have to give that more thought…
The VBA
The rules of the Versatile Blogger Award are as follows:
- Thank the blogger who nominated you
- Add the Versatile Blogger logo to your post
- Nominate 15 other bloggers
- Inform them of the nomination
- Share 7 random things about yourself
“I’d like to thank God, my parents, and…of course, none of this would be even remotely possible without the inimitable Mitchell Allen.” A small gaggle of bloggers who remember how I once swore off accepting blogging awards and glugging up my sidebar with excruciatingly cute graphics groaned from the Peanut Gallery. One or two even shot me dirty looks. I shrugged and made a low, dramatic bow – and for good measure, dipped into a curtsy and nearly fell on the floor in a discombobulated, pretzelfied heap of helpless giggles.
“Practicing your acceptance speech for LoneStarCon III, already?” ventured Prunebutt, from under the dust ruffle.
“Never hurts to be prepared.”
“What a Boy Scout you are,” sneered the sarcastic Muse. Feigning boredom with an exaggerated yawn, Prunebutt rocked over onto its side and said, “Go on, go on – don’t let me distract you from accepting your award.”
“Thank you,” I said archly.
“Is it an illustrious one?” asked the fuzzball disingenuously.
“Why don’t you roll under a bus?” I asked, smiling like a cobra.
“I’m waiting to hear those ‘seven random things’ you’re going to share with everyone. Go dredge up something you haven’t shared already. Betcha you can’t.”
“Betcha I can!” I caught myself just short of sticking my tongue out and adding, “Nyah!”
“And good luck finding fifteen bloggers who haven’t done this at least three times in the last month…”
At that point, I kicked Prunebutt into the closet and slammed the door shut. Sometimes, having a Muse is not all it’s cracked up to be.
“Tell ‘em you abuse your Muse!” it hissed from behind the closet door.
Well, that would be random.
Okay, #1 – I’m guilty of Muse abuse. (The more I taunt it, the more things it throws at me. Sometimes, it even tosses a story idea my way.)
Think, think, think, as Eeyore would say.
#2 – I just learned there IS a difference between “triceps” and “Triceratops,” and found out (the hard way) where the former are.
#3 – I think random thoughts all the time. Except when someone says, “Tell me seven random things about yourself,” at which point my thoughts become extremely linear.
#4 – I love the word, “concatenate.” But even more than that, I love watching people back away in horror when I say it.
#5 – I have attached earlobes. (Okay, now, I’m really scraping the sides of the barrel for randomness.) I can also roll my tongue, but not my Rs.
#6 – I flunked my first IQ test. I was a victim of cultural bias. Or age discrimination. Or something. “What color is coal?” Well… how the heck should I know? Who still used coal for anything in the late 1960s?
#7 – I once toured a water treatment plant. To this day, I think anaerobic bacteria are amazing, and fudge looks like sludge cake. Or sludge looks like fudge. Never get those two mixed up.
Mitchell’s probably wishing, right about now, that he’d nominated someone else for that 15th slot.
I’ll notify them tomorrow, if they haven’t figured it out from trackbacks before then. Because it’s nearly 1:00 AM, and I’m tarred – soon to be feathered!
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