This is perhaps a bit belated, but I published two things in 2021 which are eligible for the 2022 Hugo Awards! Nominations are due tomorrow, March 15th, by 23:59 PM, Pacific Daylight Time (PDT, UTC-7). In defense of my tardiness in getting this post up, I was weirdly busy at the end of last year doing a thing… what was that again? Anyway, here is a brief list of my eligible works!
If Evina waited much longer it would be full dark, and the tavern would almost certainly have a godforsaken bard by then. As if that weren’t bad enough, by the pricking of the hair along her arms, there had to be at least five other mages in easy walking distance. No surprise, really, given King Redinado’s annual quest. That’s what forced her to the capital, after all.
A pair of drunk men staggered out of the door, golden oil light spilling out onto the rutted city street. They wandered away, singing a ditty about a wench with hair the color of the moon. But not that song, thank the Savior Mother.
She swallowed, trying to dislodge the knot in her throat. If she couldn’t even walk into a tavern, how the hell did she think she was going to survive the quest to become a King’s Wizard? Savior Mother and the Multitudes…all she wanted to do was survive. She could give a rotten fig about working for the King.
Trust your mind, not your instincts, Evina.
Best Short Story
The low November light swept in under the clouds and flooded the wall of windows with golden light. Inez Townsend tilted her head away from the glittering sea water outside the Harpa concert hall and hoped that the reporters thought she looked interested, not squinty. She had agonized over what to wear to her first press conference and finally settled on standard concert attire, a simple black tunic, but had given a nod to her new home in Iceland by swapping a pair of knee-high black boots and leggings for her usual pumps.
The audience was a mix of high-level donors and journalists. It was easy to tell them apart, and not just because the journalists had lens augments glinting from their foreheads like third eyes, but the donors sipped champagne and wore natural fibers that made all the printed fabrics seem stiff and flat. Thank God her dress was cotton.
Next to her, Sóldís Vilhjálmsdottir was effortlessly glamorous, with her silver curls tumbling around her face as if she’d just woken up from a tryst with Odin. The Chief Conductor and Artistic Director for the Icelandic Symphony Orchestra was tall and slender and had lines that made her face seem more interesting with every one of her seventy-six years. Just sitting next to her made Inez feel like her life was finally taking off.
All she had to do now was not remind anyone that she was all of twenty-two and the least experienced person in the room.
Best Related Work / Best Fancast*
*Eligible for either Best Related Work and/or Fancast, depending on how you read the rules.
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