ex_willshet
in
sfwa
why I am a SFWAn
From my blog:
GriefCom and the EMF.
If you know what those are, you understand. Skip the rest of this. If not, here’s a bit of confession:
When I was a young reader, I thought SFWA was cool. They gave the Nebula Awards to the stories I loved.
When I was a young fan, I thought SFWA was cooler. They threw the private parties with the writers I loved.
When I was a young writer, I thought SFWA was a mess. SFWAns had flame wars long before the internet-we used to joke that if SFWA wanted to make more money, they should charge extra to people who did not want to get its members-only newsletter, the Forum. The Nebula Awards process has always been vulnerable to cronyism. After working during Jane Yolen’s presidency to try to improve SFWA, I decided SFWA was irrelevant. I quit nominating stories. I avoided working on committees. Eventually, I dropped out.
Fast forward to September, 2001. Emma and I had a different experience than most North Americans. On September 8, she fell on a wet stage as she was going out to perform and broke both elbows, cracking one and shattering the other. She woke from her surgery to see the World Trade Towers falling on television and thought, “Bad drugs.”
The following year was our Year of Very Bad Drugs. People in most industrialized nations can’t understand the hell that is the US health care system. In 2001, Emma and I were making very little money-we were each working on A Book That Would Not End-and suddenly we didn’t know how Emma could get the physical therapy she needed.
SFWA’s Emergency Medical Fund came through with enough money to take care of her immediate needs. The deal? If we could afford to pay the money back someday, fine. If not, fine. In that year of pain, SFWA shone for us.
When the lawyers were done with Emma’s case, we were lucky enough to be able to pay the Emergency Medical Fund back. But I can never pay back what SFWA really gave us. I can only try to pay it forward. Emma and I vowed that one of us will always be a member of SFWA.
We’ve never had to make use of the other reason to be a SFWAn. The Grievance Committee, aka GriefCom, is unsung because it does its best work out of the limelight. Few writers make enough money to hire lawyers when they are having trouble with their publishers. That’s when the GriefCom steps in. Thanks to the GriefCom, writers have gotten money from audits that revealed mistakes in a publisher’s bookkeeping. Writers have had unscrupulous contracts revised. Writers have had rights released that a publisher wanted to sell to a third party. In many cases where a writer and an agent could not succeed, the GriefCom was their salvation.
Ultimately, I’m a SFWAn for a very simple reason. SFWA helps writers. In twenty years of making my living with words, I’ve been on both sides of that, sometimes needing help, sometimes giving help. That will continue for the rest of my writing life. And that’s why I hope I’ll always be a SFWAn.
GriefCom and the EMF.
If you know what those are, you understand. Skip the rest of this. If not, here’s a bit of confession:
When I was a young reader, I thought SFWA was cool. They gave the Nebula Awards to the stories I loved.
When I was a young fan, I thought SFWA was cooler. They threw the private parties with the writers I loved.
When I was a young writer, I thought SFWA was a mess. SFWAns had flame wars long before the internet-we used to joke that if SFWA wanted to make more money, they should charge extra to people who did not want to get its members-only newsletter, the Forum. The Nebula Awards process has always been vulnerable to cronyism. After working during Jane Yolen’s presidency to try to improve SFWA, I decided SFWA was irrelevant. I quit nominating stories. I avoided working on committees. Eventually, I dropped out.
Fast forward to September, 2001. Emma and I had a different experience than most North Americans. On September 8, she fell on a wet stage as she was going out to perform and broke both elbows, cracking one and shattering the other. She woke from her surgery to see the World Trade Towers falling on television and thought, “Bad drugs.”
The following year was our Year of Very Bad Drugs. People in most industrialized nations can’t understand the hell that is the US health care system. In 2001, Emma and I were making very little money-we were each working on A Book That Would Not End-and suddenly we didn’t know how Emma could get the physical therapy she needed.
SFWA’s Emergency Medical Fund came through with enough money to take care of her immediate needs. The deal? If we could afford to pay the money back someday, fine. If not, fine. In that year of pain, SFWA shone for us.
When the lawyers were done with Emma’s case, we were lucky enough to be able to pay the Emergency Medical Fund back. But I can never pay back what SFWA really gave us. I can only try to pay it forward. Emma and I vowed that one of us will always be a member of SFWA.
We’ve never had to make use of the other reason to be a SFWAn. The Grievance Committee, aka GriefCom, is unsung because it does its best work out of the limelight. Few writers make enough money to hire lawyers when they are having trouble with their publishers. That’s when the GriefCom steps in. Thanks to the GriefCom, writers have gotten money from audits that revealed mistakes in a publisher’s bookkeeping. Writers have had unscrupulous contracts revised. Writers have had rights released that a publisher wanted to sell to a third party. In many cases where a writer and an agent could not succeed, the GriefCom was their salvation.
Ultimately, I’m a SFWAn for a very simple reason. SFWA helps writers. In twenty years of making my living with words, I’ve been on both sides of that, sometimes needing help, sometimes giving help. That will continue for the rest of my writing life. And that’s why I hope I’ll always be a SFWAn.