Now that the final episode has gone to air (March 25), it's official: my novella "Juggernaut" was selected as the winner of the first reality-tv version of the 3-Day Novel Contest, broadcast on BookTelevision and CLT nationally and on ACCESS Network in Alberta.
This comes on the heels of the same work having made the shortlist for the print version, the International 3-Day Novel contest.
There are many people to thank: producer Tate Young, Chapter's manager Rachel Sentes, the amazing team at BookTelevision/CHUM, Kyla Sentes (who catered the 3-Day Novel weekend and managed to make me delicious meals without any of my prohibited incredients: no corn, rye, oats, wheat, barley or alcohol).
The other eleven finalists wrote some amazing things during the weekend, and they should be proud of their accomplishments. Mar'ce Merrell, Wayne Arthurson, Ron Yamauchi, Felicia Pacentrilli, the indomitable Catherine Ford, Laura Kjolby, Tyler Morency, Mark John Hiemstra, Ali Riley, Darren Zenko and Jill Battson.
For the next little while, excerpts from all our novels will continue to be on the website at www.booktelevision.com
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
THE 3-DAY NOVEL CONTEST NEARS THE END
Since last September I have been waiting for this week. Tomorrow we will shoot the finale to the BookTelevision reality-TV series on the 3-Day Novel Contest, and the winner will be revealed.
Winter has been lightened here by having an instalment of the show to look forward to every week. I don't know what it's like for the general public to watch it. The website has a poll where the public can express their opinion about who should be "voted off the island". I logged in today and found that Jill Battson is their first choice to boot off, and I am second. But it's not a popularity contest. What matters is the writing, and I am confident that my entry Juggernaut (already shortlisted for the International 3-Day Novel Contest) is in the running for the top prize.
Keeping my extremities crossed.
What will happen? Brian Aldiss and Reader's Digest
The noted British science fiction writer Brian Aldiss was relaxing by the pool in Florida last weekend, and he asked me what was going to happen. When a science fiction writer asks "What is going to happen?" it is with the full knowledge that anything is possible, and no-one has a certain answer.
Mr. Aldiss wasn't talking about the change in hotel management, or the green water, or global warming. He was talking about his recent experience with the Reader's Digest Sweepstakes in the UK. He decided last year to "play" along with the contest - those officious faux documents with their inflated language and gimmicky stickers and envelopes and dire warnings.
He has been playing for months, and he said the time for the announcement of the winner was upon us...and what will happen?
I laughed. We've been filling out similar forms here in Canada. It gives Candas' 91-year-old mother something to look forward to, as each "official" notification lets her know that she is still a contender for most of the prizes. She doesn't read Reader's Digest. She has macular degeneration, and she is not able to read much of anything. We got the sample book, and the free gift (a redundancy!) of a doohickey to help open pop cans. None of us buy pop cans - you should have seen us inspecting this little tool, like archaeologists at the site of a forgotten civilization!
[At least, we think that's what the tool is for. It isn't sharp enough to slit your wrists if you've been banking on a win in the sweepstakes and find yourself disappointed.]
It had been a rough conference for Mr. Aldiss. He'd had a minor accident, banged his head and was examined at a local hospital - he was still wearing the plastic bracelet. He's been the Permanent Guest of Honour at this conference for ages, and it is going through changes. While there were many valued colleagues at the conference, there were also several missing. I have met so many amazing people at this conference (in no particular order): Daniel Keyes, Kathleen Goonan, Neil Gaiman, Peter Straub, Octavia Butler, Suzy McKee Charnas, Stephen R. Donaldson, John Clute, John Kessel, Anne Harris and a raft of other writers. There have also been moments of enlightenment and fascination in the presentations by scholars, and in the poolside chats. Sharon King from California always has something amazing from the early fantastic literature and theatre (medieval and renaissance France), and she has opened up a window on an entirely new world for me: reptile pets. Some academics give papers that are little more than book reports, but this year I caught some thought-provoking sessions that went beyond what you find in the books to what it all MEANS.
This year the conference was all about gender and sexuality in the fantastic - so the bonuses included Geoff Ryman and Nalo Hopkinson at the conference. My reading was at 8:30 in the morning on the Friday, but I was slated with Nalo and P. Andrew Miller - both engaging readers.
The International Conference on the Fantastic in the Arts has been held at the same hotel in Dania Beach for some 20 years. Next year they move to Orlando.
With New Orleans as the focal point for our memories of Hurricane Katrina, we forget that other areas were hit too. Florida was hit - and when I was at the hotel last year the changes in the atmopsphere were palpable. The trees and shrubs were stripped or gone, and you could hear the noise from the highway and the airport because the "green screen" was gone.
This year the changes were the result of a change in management, from Marriott back to Hilton. A large outbuilding, suitable for receptions and parties, was gone. The poolside bar was under plastic tarps - being reconfigured as a shower/changing facility. New carpets were being installed in the public areas while I was there, and the room had been redecorated. It looked very nice, but smelled like a chemical soup.
The water that came out of the tap had a greenish tinge to it. So did the water in the bathtub. At first I thought the pool had been repainted, but it was only the green water making it seem that way. I don't know if this was connected to the mysterious flu bug that was working its way through the conference attendees - a very fast-striking virulent strain.
I don't smoke. I don't drink anything stronger than coffee. I don't take drugs - not even aspirin. Sometimes I remember to buy vitamins, but mostly not. By keeping the expenses down, I justify this annual trip to an academic conference someplace warm. I don't go there as an academic; I go there as a professional writer and editor. If I were to go as an academic, I would have to pay for the conference. They have graciously waived the registration fee for a number of professional writers who work in the speculative fiction field. I still have to pay for airfare, the (greatly reduced) conference room rate, and most of my meals.
Orlando next year? Maybe...
Mr. Aldiss wasn't talking about the change in hotel management, or the green water, or global warming. He was talking about his recent experience with the Reader's Digest Sweepstakes in the UK. He decided last year to "play" along with the contest - those officious faux documents with their inflated language and gimmicky stickers and envelopes and dire warnings.
He has been playing for months, and he said the time for the announcement of the winner was upon us...and what will happen?
I laughed. We've been filling out similar forms here in Canada. It gives Candas' 91-year-old mother something to look forward to, as each "official" notification lets her know that she is still a contender for most of the prizes. She doesn't read Reader's Digest. She has macular degeneration, and she is not able to read much of anything. We got the sample book, and the free gift (a redundancy!) of a doohickey to help open pop cans. None of us buy pop cans - you should have seen us inspecting this little tool, like archaeologists at the site of a forgotten civilization!
[At least, we think that's what the tool is for. It isn't sharp enough to slit your wrists if you've been banking on a win in the sweepstakes and find yourself disappointed.]
It had been a rough conference for Mr. Aldiss. He'd had a minor accident, banged his head and was examined at a local hospital - he was still wearing the plastic bracelet. He's been the Permanent Guest of Honour at this conference for ages, and it is going through changes. While there were many valued colleagues at the conference, there were also several missing. I have met so many amazing people at this conference (in no particular order): Daniel Keyes, Kathleen Goonan, Neil Gaiman, Peter Straub, Octavia Butler, Suzy McKee Charnas, Stephen R. Donaldson, John Clute, John Kessel, Anne Harris and a raft of other writers. There have also been moments of enlightenment and fascination in the presentations by scholars, and in the poolside chats. Sharon King from California always has something amazing from the early fantastic literature and theatre (medieval and renaissance France), and she has opened up a window on an entirely new world for me: reptile pets. Some academics give papers that are little more than book reports, but this year I caught some thought-provoking sessions that went beyond what you find in the books to what it all MEANS.
This year the conference was all about gender and sexuality in the fantastic - so the bonuses included Geoff Ryman and Nalo Hopkinson at the conference. My reading was at 8:30 in the morning on the Friday, but I was slated with Nalo and P. Andrew Miller - both engaging readers.
The International Conference on the Fantastic in the Arts has been held at the same hotel in Dania Beach for some 20 years. Next year they move to Orlando.
With New Orleans as the focal point for our memories of Hurricane Katrina, we forget that other areas were hit too. Florida was hit - and when I was at the hotel last year the changes in the atmopsphere were palpable. The trees and shrubs were stripped or gone, and you could hear the noise from the highway and the airport because the "green screen" was gone.
This year the changes were the result of a change in management, from Marriott back to Hilton. A large outbuilding, suitable for receptions and parties, was gone. The poolside bar was under plastic tarps - being reconfigured as a shower/changing facility. New carpets were being installed in the public areas while I was there, and the room had been redecorated. It looked very nice, but smelled like a chemical soup.
The water that came out of the tap had a greenish tinge to it. So did the water in the bathtub. At first I thought the pool had been repainted, but it was only the green water making it seem that way. I don't know if this was connected to the mysterious flu bug that was working its way through the conference attendees - a very fast-striking virulent strain.
I don't smoke. I don't drink anything stronger than coffee. I don't take drugs - not even aspirin. Sometimes I remember to buy vitamins, but mostly not. By keeping the expenses down, I justify this annual trip to an academic conference someplace warm. I don't go there as an academic; I go there as a professional writer and editor. If I were to go as an academic, I would have to pay for the conference. They have graciously waived the registration fee for a number of professional writers who work in the speculative fiction field. I still have to pay for airfare, the (greatly reduced) conference room rate, and most of my meals.
Orlando next year? Maybe...
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