... And the winner is ...
April 30, 1999
5:18 a.m.
This is the big weekend.  Nebula weekend. That time when the SFWA folks get to tell a few writers what a great job they did. I've written before about the power of these moments, and I'm sure I'll write about them again. Last night at dinner, Lisa and I made some comment that got us into an old Saturday Night Live discussion. Remembering the old show with the original cast (no other group can beat the original cast, guys--they had the advantage of being first, and all the rest are following the path they carved, pushing the river a little this way, or a little that way, but never really changing the riverbed). Brigid asked lots of questions. In the end, we finished the evening by watching a video tape we had made of the 15 year anniversary show. Boy, I had forgotten a lot of stuff. Gilda Radner had just passed away before they made that show. John Belushi had overdosed before that. But we watched. We saw the landshark, Father Guido Sarducci, The Wild and Crazy Guys, Samuri Laundromat, Cheeseburger-cheeseburger-cheeseburger. We saw Garrett Morris singing about killing all the whities. Before, I just saw this as funny, but having a few years under my belt, I can see how biting this commentary was. After all, it was ony 10-12 years since the civil rights bill had been signed. Ten years is really not very long. There was "Jane you ignorant slut." The Blues Brothers. The superhero cocktail party with John Belushi as the Incredible Hulk, Emily Litella, Roseanne Rosanadana, the Whiners, the Coneheads, the Widette family, Bill Murray giving nuggies to Gilda Radner. Judy Miller dreaming in her bedroom. The Bass-o-matic. Dan Akroyd as Fred whoever, Male Prostitute. Belushi and Akroyd dressed as the killer bees, singing "I'm a King Bee, Baby." Through it all, various hosts made comments about the critics. Critics, as I remember, said some very not-so-nice things about SNL. The show was rude. It was coarse, and honestly, it often bombed. But when it was good, it was very good, and in the end, this group of people created a body of work that will stand up for years and years. Somewhere in there, the cast presented a tribute to Gilda Radner. Clips just of her. I liked Gilda, that is true. But I never really paid much attention to her, you know? I never gave her a lot of credit. But looking back, I can see what a huge part of that show she was. It's obvious when you think about it. I mean, get serious. Here's a major talent--just like many of these characters. And if you take a major talent away from a group, who's to say what will happen? But I just never tought much about her. They presented a showcase of Belushi clips, too. John Belushi was flashier than Gilda Radner. He carried a bigger aura. He seemed more crass, more on the edge. When he bombed, he bombed bigger. There's something in me that is equating the Nebula awards with this show, and to be honest, I'm not sure what it is. I've written this entire piece to get to it, though. And here I am at the end, and I'm still not certain what to think. Awards given by SFWA have this thing that hovers over them. We vote on them. And we all secretly covet them. How can we not want someone to hand us a trophy and tell us that the hours we spent sweating blood resulted in something glorious and good? The whole award process is us, common old writers who toil away in our pajamas and our basements across the globe, it's us flirting with fame. We see big name writers as celebrities, and we wonder why it can't be us (while deep inside being a little afraid of the idea). We vote. We participate. We complain when the stories we vote on don't win. We complain when our stories don't win or don't get even picked to vote for, or don't even get published, for that matter. Yet, in the end, there's something important about that feeling--knowing you're doing something worthwhile. The Nebula's do that. For all its politics, and the hubris that comes with them, the act of giving someone an award tells them that. And it feels good to let someone know that they done good. But what about the rest of us slobs? What about all the guys that publish for years and never get recognized. Go to a bookstore and look at the names on the shelf. I'll bet you never heard of half of them, and I'll bet you just as much that those names have been publishing for years. I think back to SNL. What sticks in my mind is the entirety of the package, you know? Not any one character. Not any one skit. The body of work. I didn't see that before, I don't think. Or if I did, I didn't recognize it. SNL was loved by its fans, hated by the critics. But their body of work stands. It makes its own point. And I think that's what we should remember as we give what will be a bevy of very deserving writers a very nice award. The Nebulas are great. But the event should celebrate writers. It should celebrate science fiction. And every writer who is waiting with bated breath to see who's going to win should take a few minutes out of their day to think about the stuff they've read by people who aren't on the ballot. Because this is our award. We choose how to give it, and who to give it to. We can choose how to see the people in our midst. So today I celebrate writers as a whole. Today I'm thinking of a collection of folks I won't name because I want you to fill in your own folks. I want you to look at your bookshelves, and think about the people behind the spines. See them working. And I want you to see their body of work for what it is. Something special. Something good. And something that defines them in ways nothing else can.  Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins |
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"Still crazy after all these years." Paul Simon |
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