That’s the sound of my suitcases hitting the ground. It also means that I have my trusty laptop back.
That’s the sound of me hugging it tightly. Oh, sweet sweet Internet addiction, how I missed you!
In any event, those who read the last blogpost know that I was out of town sans laptop for the last round of #dabwaha, which I now know stands for “Dear Author Bitchery Writing Award for Hellagood Authors.” 64 books entered. 32 have been eliminated, in one foul swoop. And…gulp… one of those books was not mine.
Yes, you read that right. Through a combination of luck, pity votes (because I was out of twitter range), and, apparently, hard campaigning by Angela James and some notable others, I squeaked out a narrow victory against Sherry Thomas. How narrow was this narrow victory? The margin was 3 votes cast out of 754 votes total.
Thank you, any and all of you who voted for my book, because 3 votes is a total squeaker, and I would never have made it without you. Really.
Still… some part of me wishes that I had tied Sherry, instead of winning. In part, this is because I really loved His at Night, and while I don’t like losing (competitive, can’t help it, sorry), I’m pissed that His at Night didn’t get farther. But in larger part this is because in Round 2, I’m up against Joanna Bourne’s The Forbidden Rose.
Joanna Bourne is a giant. She wins, like, everything–polls, the RITA, Christmas, boxing matches… you name it, she wins it. As she should, because she is a genius. The only hope that either Sherry or I had of toppling her would have been if we had tied, and petitioned the Powers that Be to let us continue as an ungainly juggernaut-amalgam of our two books: His at Desire, the story of Lord Vere’s forbidden love with Lady Kathleen, who is rescuing Ellisande’s aunt from Lord Harcroft, with nothing to aid her but a skittish horse and a travel guide to Corfu.
You would read that book, right? You would totally read that book, and you would totally vote for it over Joanna Bourne’s book.
But, alas. Here I am, pitted against Joanna Bourne. There’s nothing to do to try to get ahead except trash talk. Except…here’s the thing. Have any of you ever tried trash-talking against Joanna Bourne? She’s kind of intimidating. I can try the whole “your mother smelled of elderberries” thing but she would probably just nod complacently and say, “I think you mean gooseberries. Elderberries, as I’m sure you know, are….” And you would blush and nod your head and say, “Oh, of course, I totally knew that. Right. Yeah.”
Trash talking Joanna Bourne feels kind of like trash talking Einstein. Everything you say looks petty, and it just makes you look bad. It’s like she won’t stoop to my level or something. But I’m not going to let that stop me.
Joanna Bourne, you will regret the day that you ever wrote a fabulous book that lots of people loved! You’ll regret it bitterly.
When the voting opens, this post will update with a Proper Link and everything. UPDATED: Proper link to vote for yours truly, and thereby squelch the polite, brilliant, amazing behemoth that is Joanna Bourne: http://dabwaha.com/2011/03/vote-here-2011-round-2-set-1/