Nebula Awards Showcase 2018

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This was an odd year for the Nebulas.

No, let me rephrase that because every year is an odd year for the Nebulas. Every year, some of the stories and books you and I voted for didn’t win or the ones you or I hadn’t been able to get into, even after multiple attempts, did. There was a challenge to a book’s authenticity or provenance. Sad people wanted to win Nebulas through intimidation or stealth. The odds-on favorite movie did a nose dive. You get the picture.

Or someone you barely heard of was named the Grand Master.

(Raises hand.)

That’s why it seemed to me to be an exceptionally odd year.

I was in my writing room supposedly—um—writing. The phone rang.

Oddly enough, it was neither a cold call nor a warning from the Hatfield, MA, police chief about scams targeted at the elderly. (My semi-official title these days.)

In fact, it was Cat Rambo who’d emailed me a day or two earlier to set up a phone date. For the uninitiated, Cat has been and will be SFWA’s Glorious Leader for a while. As I had been for two years back in the late 1980s. Cat—as other presidents before her—was rigorous about sounding-out past presidents on SFWA matters, so I assumed it was one of those calls.

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