Just the FAQs, Ma'am!

by Jeffrey A. Carver

Chairman of the SFWA Awards^® Rules Committee

Let me start by saying that the SFWA Awards^® Rules Committee (SARC) may be the most misunderstood of all SFWA committees. But it's not because people treat us badly. It's the old name. Until 2005, the committee was known as the Nebula Awards Committee—implying that we were the people who ran the Nebula Awards—and we're not. A whole crew of other dedicated volunteers do that, starting with the Nebula Awards Report (NAR) editor, and continuing with those who arrange the hotels and banquets, and buy and design the trophies. Even the counting of the final ballot is handled by the League of Women Voters. So what do we do?

Our new name, with Rules in it, is much better, because our sole job is to pass judgment on questions of eligibility and rules interpretation. To paraphrase Sigourney Weaver in Galaxy Quest, we have just one job on this ship, and it's an obscure one, but we're going to do it! Our mission: to make decisions based on both the spirit and the letter of the Rules, to ensure that all works compete on a level playing field. (The "we" currently consists of Jack Williamson, Connie Willis, and yours truly. The NAR editor, Brook West, serves as secretary and nonvoting member.)

We're the Nebula Court of Appeals. Suppose a story is recommended for the Nebula, but a question arises as to its eligibility. The NAR editor rules on it if he can, or bumps it to us. The plaintiff can appeal to us, in any case. That's when we "lumber into action," as the SFWA Officers' Guidelines put it, and render a judgment. And if the plaintiff doesn't like our ruling? The Nebula Rules are silent on the matter. But the Officers' Guidelines name the Board of Directors final arbiter, a role they have filled on at least one occasion that I am aware of.

We're often asked by hopeful writers for advice about Nebula Award eligibility, how to get noticed, and so on. Since these questions tend to run in the same vein, I thought it would be useful to put together some Frequently Asked Questions, and maybe make things clearer to all of you who toil in the field, hoping for recognition.

Here, ma'am, are the FAQs:
 

Q

I'm working on a science fiction piece that will be published/produced in an unusual venue or format. What do I have to do to my work to make sure that it will be eligible for the Nebula Award?

A

Here's the answer, but you may be asking the wrong question. The answer is, you have only to create the finest work of science fiction that you're capable of. Then publish or produce it in the best way you can, consistent with your artistic vision and the exigencies of the marketplace. Once published or produced, it will be eligible for the award if it meets the requirements of the Nebula Rules. If it does not meet the requirements of the Rules, it will not be eligible.

It sounds like I'm stating the obvious, but really I'm not. Here's the thing: eligibility cannot be determined prior to publication or production. Sometimes the rules are ambiguous—such as, for example, the requirement that a dramatic script be "professionally" produced. What does "professionally produced" mean? The rules don't say. We may be called upon to decide, but we can't give you any advice on it until we see the final product.

Q

You said that was the wrong question. What's the right question?

A

The right question is, should I be worrying about winning an award as I sit in my garret/studio/warren, sweating blood over every page?

Well, what made you want to write in the first place? Was it because you had dreams to share, visions to craft, tales to tell? Or because you wanted an award?

Thinking about awards as you write leads only to delusions of grandeur, distortion of artistic vision, loss of perspective, generalized anxiety, unnatural hair growth, and an assortment of other disorders, none of which will help your writing in the least. Here's a heartfelt suggestion: concentrate on your work and your craft, and let the awards take care of themselves. The awards are a fine way to honor outstanding work in the field. But always remember that there will be many outstanding works that do not win.

The Nebula trophy is beautiful and prestigious, and no one blames you for wanting one. But the important thing is the work itself, and the pleasure it brings readers. The heart and soul of writing is the telling of a good story. If you have accomplished that, you have achieved the real reward.

Don't let anyone tell you differently.

Q

Easy for you to say. You've already won a bunch of awards and have forgotten what it's like to be on the outside looking in.

A

Nope. I've been writing and publishing for over two decades, and haven't won one yet. (My colleagues on the bench are not so innocent, alas.) Would I like to win one? Sure I would. But I try not to think about that as I work, and I certainly don't let it affect decisions I make about what I write or how I write it.

Q

But winning an award could really break out your career, couldn't it?

A

Anything's possible. But reports from the field suggest that winning a Nebula, while personally satisfying as recognition for one's hard work and (dare we say it?) genius, is unlikely to be either a life-changing or a career-changing experience.

Q

Okay, I get that. But I still want a fair shot. What about my work that's published from my web site/small press/other obscure medium?

A

Technically, you have the same chance as anyone else, as long as it's eligible within the rules. Practically speaking, your chances are smaller, simply because voting members are less likely to see/read/hear/view your work and think to recommend it or vote for it. That may seem unfair, but it's a fact of life. I wish more people would read my stuff, too.

But this is where the Nebula jury comes in. The jury exists for the purpose of detecting outstanding work that might otherwise fall through the cracks. They work hard at it, too. Every year, they have the option of adding one work in each category to the final Nebula ballot—especially works that might not normally be seen by most members.

Of course, those works are still underdogs, simply because fewer members are familiar with them in the first place. But in recent years, with at least the short fiction nominees being made available on the web to voters, the playing field is made somewhat more even.

Q

I've looked at the rules, and I can't tell if my work is eligible or not.

A

Sometimes eligibility has to be determined on a case-by-case basis for individual works, but again—only after a work has been published or produced. It's always tempting to ask us for a ruling in advance, but we can't give it. And anyway—should you really be thinking about altering your work, just to try to fit the Nebula requirements? Is that why you're spending those lonely hours at the keyboard? I didn't think so.

Q

Fair enough. But just one more question. Does being published early in the year give you a better chance, or being published late in the year?

A

A work is eligible for a Nebula Award nomination for a year after publication. If it hasn't qualified for the preliminary ballot by then, it is no longer eligible. This rule was designed to make the playing field even as far as date of publication is concerned. Is it a perfect solution? Probably not. We can't control how fresh a work will be in the readers' minds. But it's the best anyone's been able to come up with.

Q

Okay, two more questions. Some people seem to actively campaign for the award. Should I do this, too?

A

There's no rule against it, unless you count civility and common sense. Many members get quite annoyed when they feel they're being pestered for recommendations, nominations, votes, etc. So if you campaign, you run the risk of a backlash.

That doesn't mean you can't bring your work to people's attention, or publicize it as you would to try to build readership anyway. If you wish to make a free copy of your work available to voting members, you can ask the NAR editor to insert a (%) mark next to your title, should it appear in the report with recommendations.

You may find yourself treading a fine line. Some members don't even like to be offered free copies, or to have work drawn to their attention, because that feels to them like another form of campaigning. Other members joyfully welcome free copies. We have no official advice to offer, except to urge you to be considerate of your fellow authors.

But then, that's always a good rule, isn't it?
 

Jeffrey A. Carver is the author of fourteen SF novels, including the recently published Eternity's End (Tor). His checkered timeline includes being a scuba diving instructor, a private pilot, a TV host, and a proud parent. He lives in Arlington, Massachusetts.