AWARDS ELIGIBILITY POST / THE YEAR IN REVIEW

This is the time of year when speculative fiction writers flood the social media feeds with posts begging their readers (more accurately, their friends) to nominate them for the major awards. The posts go up in December to be in time for Nebula Award voting, which closes this season on March 1, 2026. The only people allowed to nominate for this award are members of SFWA, which means you need some cred in the field to join and then vote. I got in under the old rules that required you to publish at least 10,000 words, with that divided into at least three stories, from venues appearing on SFWA’s old list of tip-top markets. Petitioning to have stories in anthologies that paid pro rates but didn’t make the list was allowed. (I had three stories in venues that did make the list when I joined, but the fourth story needed to cross the 10,000-word mark was allowed by petition.) As such, some stories get a nomination with as little as a couple dozen SFWA members voting for them.

A nomination is a huge deal. For those trying to publish a novel who are not famous for some reason other than their fiction writing, it is the surest ticket to getting an agent.

Sure, there are other important awards: the Hugos, nominations coming from attendees at the World Science Fiction Convention the year before or paid-up folks planning to attend it the next year; the Locus Awards, voted on by anyone who wants to log in online; the Stokers, the analogous award to the Nebulas for members of the Horror Writers Association (HWA); etc. Still others are juried awards with nominations often coming from publishers or committees.

But it’s considered gauche to beg for nominations, so instead, one presents social media posts as a public service: an announcement of what you’ve done that is eligible for an award.

Following on these initial posts are generally many others talking about “imposter syndrome”—the hubris of asking for a nomination when one isn’t a superstar (yet).

The next round of posts tends to be those arguing that yes, it is a service to post about what you are proud of, as there’s so much to read that anything published outside of a small number of prominent, free-click venues won’t get read without them. These go on to say that positive mentions on social media, reviews on Amazon and Goodreads, and word-of-mouth are important to authors.

I’ll buy into the line of thinking in the last paragraph. If you liked what I produced in 2025, mention posts and reviews are really nice, especially for the things I am trying to sell. They can also keep the metaphorical doors open for small publishers whose owners are in it for the love of literature but who need to at least attempt to break even if they are going to keep going.

The last point is important. Even if you think an author doesn’t have a shot in hell at a prestigious nomination, talking them up will help keep the lights on at publishers doing great work by convincing your circle of friends to consider buying what we put out.

To avoid charges of hubris, I am subtitling this post my “year in review.” We all had a year. 2025 is ending. That’s not a grandiose claim. To say it was one of my more difficult years would be an understatement: I was at home convalescing from cancer treatment until April 1. Going back to work full time while still very tired from both what the disease took out of me and side effects of the medications wasn’t easy either.

With that in mind as context, I had a pretty good year. There is one thing I’ll label “awards eligible,” hoping any of you who are eligible to vote consider it. If you are either a SFWA or Codex member and haven’t yet seen where I’ve put links to free digital copies, just email me at allandyenshapirofiction@gmail.com, and I’ll send you one—please specify whether you’d like .pdf, .epub, or .docx:

“The Day We Said Goodbye to the Birds” is awards-eligible in the novelette category. It came out in June from Bruce Bethke’s Rampant Loon Press both digitally and in paperback. This is hopepunk/ecological SF/hard SF/character-driven SF. It includes a short essay on the science underlying the story and another short essay on the events in my life that inspired it. Blurb: Blamed for a toxin poisoning the air, Joe has finalized his divorce and is leaving the Bay Area with his 18-month-old daughter. He is trapped in Oakland. Most of the city wants him dead. The story explores environmental racism, scientists’ social responsibilities, and what it means to be an ally.

In addition, I had three more stories come out:

“Become the New You” is a horror short story that was included in the Dread Mondays anthology from Whisper House Press. This is another small press; publicity for them would also be welcome. Blurb: There’s something odd about Chloe’s new part-time job at the Aventura Mall Nordstrom. The Nordstrom family is creepy, as are the other employees. What’s going on? Fun horror, but also a critique of capitalism.

“MindsEye Lets You Love Again” is a flash fiction piece that ran in issue 47 (May 2025) of Factor Four Magazine. Medical science fiction, immigrant struggles, and family drama—set in Miami, FL.

"Glossary of Archaic Terms used in Monograph on Human Culture During the Period of Conquest (Kindle Edition)" is flash fiction humor that was published on the Stupefying Stories Showcase website on August 13, 2025. Jeff Bezos sells us out to the aliens.

What else for 2025? I have 14 more stories that I either wrote from scratch or finished that are either out at markets, soon to be out at markets, or requiring only a small amount of work that I may find time to do in the next couple weeks before they can be out at markets. And, of course, I’ve been shipping all the older stories back out to new places as they come back with rejections (many of which were of the “almost but not quite” variety this year).

In addition, I sold three additional stories that I’m very proud of this year. These three stories will be published in 2026. One of them will come out in paperback and digitally as a standalone; the other two will be in literary magazine issues. Check my social media for details—this post is already too long to elaborate.

I made it to three conferences this year—Readercon in Boston, Worldcon in Seattle, and Necronomicon Tampa, doing panels at all of them. I also did events and bookstore drop-ins (as well as had others selling my book at a convention I didn’t attend) to drum up sales for “The Day We Said Goodbye to the Birds.” And I did an editing pass on the novel I hadn’t touched since abandoning my hunt for an agent in 2020 with the advent of the pandemic in favor of trying to make waves with short fiction first. I’m up to 33 sales, but I sense I still have splashing to do. Nonetheless, I’d learned a lot in the intervening years, so now, I have a draft that is ready to go and as good as it will get should an opportunity arise. I do also have a novella currently on submission (I’m targeting small presses with it), but no buyer yet.

My tumor isn’t growing. As long as it stays that way, I live. It did make me decide to retire from my day job at 62, as soon as I can get my pension and guaranteed retiree health insurance. That means I should be a full-time writer starting in January 2028. Methinks a lot will go much faster when unencumbered with trying to earn a living.

What else can I say about 2025? Favorite movie of the year: Sinners, hands-down, although One Battle After Another came in a respectable second. Favorite TV of the year: Alien Earth. I thoroughly enjoyed rooting for the Xenomorph and her buddies in their battle against the world’s future billionaires. Biggest disappointment of the year: having to abandon my union activism, which was beginning to make waves even at a national level, because cancer robbed me of the energy needed for it. Happiest moment of the year: my daughter getting engaged. I’m thrilled for her. Most anticipated reading of the year: Thomas Pynchon’s new novel. I’m about 80 pages into it as I write this.

I submitted five stories yesterday to markets. I should post this before my quixotic quest to get Neil Clarke to buy something from me results in another disappointment. I can’t imagine anyone other than him being sufficiently quick to send a rejection email in under 24 hours. Yesterday, I also finished revisions on a story for a market opening January 1.

Two weeks off from the day job means time for writing that’s been put off too long. I should get back to it. Lots to do before I call 2025 a wrap.

As always, thanks for reading.