I’ve done a few eligible things this year, but I’m only going to mention one of them here, because I like the magazine a lot, and I think other people would like it if they had a chance to read more of it, at the scale of the Hugo Awards. There’s this story I published in 2013, called “I Will Trade With You” and it is viewable here: http://www.3lobedmag.com/issue23/3lbe23_story6.html [quote] The north star is still in my palm. North, I keep on, but there’s no way to know how far I walked before I stopped to rest on this lump of sand instead of that one. I need to rest to keep walking with these old, uncertain bones. When I’m ready to move again, I crawl a little, and wait for my legs to work right below me. When I can’t walk anymore, I drink my own blood from my boots and joints. I was not put together well, nor will I ever be again. I do not know how many days there were before this, but it has only been a few days while I walked, and then it was night, and I slept sometimes during the night. Then it was day again and I kept on, where my hand still leads me. My old right hand is still mine. It was my first trade. My legs are shorter than I remember and it is hard to walk on them when they are this worn down. The sand slips through the cracks of very old boots. I’m bleeding somewhere in there, but most of it stays in my boots and I can sip it later when I rest. It’s all I have to drink. Let this body be numb and unknown to me. There was little I could do about it in the middle of a desert. I licked what I could reach of my blisters and sores and ill-fashioned joints, drinking back my own fluids. It hurt, but it had to be done. [/quote] If you’re aching to nominate something by me, there it is. If you hadn’t seen it before, well, now you have. Have a great weekend!