As promised, I will continue to bug you guys about this until the end of the month. If you are not aware of my life-quest to make literati critics spontaneously combust, please read this first:
You know that Sarah McLachlan commercial on TV where they play the sad song and show injured puppies and dying kitties and it totally screws up your whole day? Yeah… Please play this song as you read the following VERY SPECIAL MESSAGE.
Every year thousands of pulp writers slave away in the word mines for as little as five cents a word…
(show picture of very sad looking author, sitting in bathrobe, listlessly typing, surrounded by empty cans of Coke Zero and cheesy puff wrappers)
Yet, despite providing hours of explosion filled enjoyment to their readers, most pulp novelists will never be recognized by critics, and in fact, they will be abused by the literati elite.
(show extra sad looking pulp novelist, more than likely an overweight guy with a beard)
Literary critics stuffed this pulp novelist into a dryer, and ran at high temperatures for nearly five minutes without even a sheet of fabric softener.
For generations literary critics and college English departments have looked down at pulp novelists and refused to give them awards…
(show old-timey picture of HP Lovecraft, show old-timey picture of Robert E. Howard, show old-timey picture of Robert E. Howard punching out a Tyrannosaurs Rex while a woman in a chainmail bikini holds onto his leg)
Even though those guys are totally freaking awesome, and Conan the Barbarian is a thousand times more awesome than the Great Gatsby, you wouldn’t know it by listening to literary snobs.
The hoighty-toighty literati snobs prefer heavy handed, ham fisted, message fiction.
(show picture of sci-fi readers giving up in frustration as they read yet another award winning book where evil corporations, right wing religious fanatics, and a thinly veiled Dick Cheney have raped the Earth until all the polar bears have died and the plot consists entirely of academic hipster douchebags sitting around and talking about their feelings)
Much like Michael Vick, literary critics hate pulp novelists and make them fight in vicious underground novelist fighting arenas. I actually did pretty good, until Dan Wells made a shiv from a sharpened spoon and got me in the kidney. Never turn your back on the guy that writes about serial killers, I tell you what.
Only you can stop literary snobs and their abuse of pulp novelists…
For as little as $60 you can become a voting member of WorldCon and nominate something awesome and filled with dragons, explosions, guns, heroism, actual good and evil, and a plot where stuff actually happens. And unlike Sarah McLachlan’s sad puppy commercial, your donation also gets you a whole big ton of free eBooks and all of the nominated works, worth more than the cost of joining.
And once you’ve done that, you can nominate. The nominations stay open for a few more months, so I’ll post about some of the things I think which are awesome, but which normally don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of winning. This includes a bunch of different categories, and you’d get your say and nominate up to five of your favorite things for each! http://www.lonestarcon3.org/hugo-awards/hugo-nom.html
So please tell your friends. I will continue to bug you about this for the rest of the month. Do not make me play the sad puppy song again…
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