Life goes on

Another of the many good things that we can still celebrate today now that the EOW didn't eventuate (apart from ponies, ice cream, books, cats, movies, licorice, cups of teas, good food, muffins, sunsets, martial arts, flowers, rainy days, sunny days, samurai swords, open fireplaces, Gothic mansions, the humble earthworm etc etc etc because there's a lot to enjoy) is the list of winners from last night's Aurealis Awards. The Aussie SF blogs this morning are suitably quiet after the festivities, which just goes to prove it must have been a wham bang affair.

If you're looking for a more debating on the merits of genre fiction, Ian M. Banks has some amusing things to say about "literary" writers slumming it by knocking up a science fiction novel without doing their homework first here. Now I love a good novel of any sort. I consciously alternate between mainstream and genre books, so apart from readerly timidity, peer pressure and intellectual snobbery, I don't really understand what the problem is. There's as much bad "litfic" out there about "meaningful" dross and middle-class whinging as there is bad "specfic" about clichéd aliens and trite quests. However, the opposite is also true - both are treasure troves of good stuff. You just have to go looking for it, not read one book and pass judgement. For those of us who at times grow a little weary of the rolling eyes or patronising expressions from the 'I-only-read-litfic' crowd whenever one mentions SF and fantasy, Ian M. Banks' pearls include:

Science fiction can never be a closed shop where only those already steeped in its culture are allowed to practise, but, as with most subjects, if you're going to enter the dialogue it does help to know at least a little of what you're talking about, and it also helps, by implication, not to dismiss everything that's gone before as not worth bothering with because, well, it's just Skiffy and the poor benighted wretches have never been exposed to a talent the like of mine before . . .

Now, back to the writing keyboard so I can knock up some hopefully interesting SF of my own. It's a dark and generally drizzly day, with the occasional noisy thunderstorm and downpour adding to the good-to-stay-at-home atmosphere, most suitable weather for my designated submission day. I plan to look over the poor, trembling rejections presently huddling in my computer, check them out, give them a confidence boosting pat on the back and send them off again. And while I'm at it, I can pat Polly, who has perked up but is still feeling very sorry for herself.