And a phone call from Robert Zemeckis means I may be able to turn up at the Hugo ceremonies at the end of next month, which would be a good thing even if American Gods doesn't get one. (I mean, it's the Hugo Award dammit. It's on the cover of books I treasure.) Now I just have to find the envelope filled with helpful stuff that the Con Jose Hugo people sent me that I put somewhere absent-mindedly in the certainty I'd not be able to go. And I shall get to hob-nob with the likes of China Mieville and Andy Duncan and go to the Hugo losers party with pride.