Lambda Literary Awards, 2026
June 2026: Revision Reflections
I had the wonderful honor of accompanying dear friend, Rob Costello, to the Lambda Literary Awards—stepping in, as it happened, for his husband, who couldn’t be there. Rob’s book, An Ugly World for Beautiful Boys, was a Lammy finalist in the young adult category.
The Lambda awards, provided by Lambda Literary, celebrate the best in LGBTQ+ literature, honoring outstanding books that explore and celebrate queer themes, identities, and experiences. This year’s cycle saw 1,371 submissions across 26 categories—making it the highest submission volume yet for the Lammys. Go, Rob!
It was a fabulous night, and although I can invite you along with details and pictures, I don’t want the experience to be filtered through my straight lens. What this night meant for Rob could never be surmised by me. So here is Rob, despite the fact that we’re just back from New York City and he must be exhausted.
Jennifer: Good morning, Rob. Last year, an anthology you edited, We Mostly Come Out at Night, was also nominated for a Lammy. But the awards ceremony was held online. Can you describe the difference between the online event and the live celebration? Was it worth the drive into NYC and fighting the World Cup crowds?
Rob: Zoom is a wonderful tool for many use cases, but I think we all know that there’s a certain unreality and lack of occasion to events online that simply can’t compare to the real thing. I remember sitting in my easy chair at home watching the awards unfold while also scrolling on social media and answering email. I was certainly honored that we had been nominated, and I was excited when our category was announced. But after the moment passed and the ceremony ended, I slipped immediately back into my normal life. I remember closing my laptop and walking the dogs before fixing dinner like any other day.
In contrast, attending the ceremony live was ALL about the occasion. Traveling to the city… Staying in a hotel… Dressing up for an evening on the town… Arriving at the sophisticated venue with a most charming and lovely date on my arm… Talk about a night to remember! Sure, the crowds were insane and the heat withering, but it was a magical and indelible experience I will cherish for the rest of my life. Definitely worth the hassle.
Jennifer: It was a hot night in NYC, but we were in the glitzy subterranean Sony Hall. It was classy and bedazzling. How would you describe the vibes? Have you attended other award ceremonies? Was it similar?
Rob: Classy and bedazzling are two apt words to describe the vibe. I would also add glamorous (thanks to our host, The Illustrious Pearl), moving, inspiring, and surprisingly nerdy (in the very best sense). After all, no matter how fabulous we are as a community, we’re still a bunch of introverted writers, and thus earnest, passionate, and a little bit awkward in social situations. In short, the vibe was exactly as I would have hoped it to be—authentic, queer, and joyful.
I have attended a couple of other awards ceremonies in person before, both in support of We Mostly Come Out at Night. The first was for the Bram Stoker Awards last June, which was similar to the Lammys—although considerably less sparkly. Still, there was a formal banquet in a hotel ballroom followed by a lovely awards ceremony. Though my book didn’t win, it was a wonderful event, if not nearly as much fun as the Lammys—since you weren’t there to make it special!
Also last summer, I attended the CNY Book Awards celebration, which was more of an informal reception where they handed out awards in four categories. It, too, was a delightful evening—in no small measure because this time we won! The friend who accompanied me, Shawn Goodman, also won (in a different category), which made the drive home together that much sweeter.
Jennifer: Throughout the evening, many references were made to our disastrous political climate and the horrific effects on the LGBTQIA+ community—particularly for those who are transgender. And yet, I was buoyed by what I perceived to be hope in the room. Did you have the same interpretation/reaction?
Rob: Hmm. I’m personally reluctant to use the work “hope” right now because I fear it too easily elides the hateful and cruel road that still lies ahead of us. I doubt we’ve seen the worst of what these monsters will do, particularly to trans folks, although the entire LGBTQIA+ community is certainly in the crosshairs at the moment. But the thing is, we’ve been in those crosshairs before. As a community, we’ve lived through far worse periods than this and have come out the other side stronger, prouder, and more defiantly ourselves. Queer and trans people have always existed, and we will continue to exist, thriving and telling our stories, long after Donald Trump, MAGA, and this particularly malignant strain of Christofascism are nothing but forgotten cinders on the ash heap of history.
So, what you call hope, I would prefer to describe instead as abiding grit or even steely determination. I felt resolve in the air of Sony Hall. A sense that while we recognize the terrible brutality being employed against us, we will not bend or yield to it. We had to fight our way out of the closet. We will never allow ourselves to be shoved back inside it by this pathetic crowd of incel losers, fake Christians, and degenerate grifters.
Jennifer: I’ll admit it. I felt a thrill (and so much pride) when the photo of your beautiful book was up on the screen. When you were sitting in that room watching other categories be announced, was there a moment where you felt the night shift for you, where something landed differently than you expected?
Rob: On some level things played out exactly as I anticipated, in that I never expected to win (and, SPOILER ALERT, I didn’t). But at a certain point early in the evening, long before my category was announced, I realized I didn’t actually care all that much about winning.
I am not someone who lives in the moment very often. I’m always thinking ahead and trying to peer around every corner to avoid the next pitfall. I can’t tell you how much anxiety I experienced in the weeks beforehand, fretting about what I would wear, what I would say if I won, how I would get to the city. And that’s not even counting the many years of worry about the book itself: Would I ever finish it? Would an agent sign me? Would an editor buy it? Would I like the cover? Would it be well reviewed? Would readers respond positively? Etc.
But there was something about being there, in that room, amongst all those other hopeful and talented writers, that freed me, however briefly, from the endless whir of thinking ahead (more like catastrophizing) that goes on inside my brain. Somehow, the outcome didn’t matter so much. The win for me was simply in having made it that far with a novel that for many years I didn’t think I would finish and for many more years after that didn’t believe I would be allowed to publish.
But that particular worst-case-scenario never materialized. The book was indeed published. I love the cover. It was well (if insufficiently) reviewed. The few readers I’ve spoken to seem to have enjoyed it. It was even a finalist for a major prize. And while the best-case-scenario didn’t happen either—I didn’t win that prize, make the New York Times bestsellers list, or sell the movie rights for six figures—it was still a pretty satisfying outcome.
More importantly, the book was recognized by the very community I wrote it for. That mattered a lot more to me than I anticipated. Deep down, I think my biggest fear was always that An Ugly World for Beautiful Boys would simply vanish after publication, unloved, ignored, and quickly forgotten. If we’re being honest, that’s what happens to most books, and for a long while that’s what it felt like was happening to mine. But that didn’t occur. The right people noticed it. And whether or not I left with a trophy, what really meant the most to me was being noticed. Turns out that was all the validation I needed, and I realized that sitting across from you in Sony Hall somewhere during Pearl’s opening remarks. Ultimately, I felt seen, which is all any of us really wants, isn’t it?
Of course, I still had the jitters when they announced my category. But I was pretty serene the rest of the evening.
Jennifer: The book exists now in a way it didn’t before this cycle—reviewed, judged, celebrated in public. Does it still feel like yours (perhaps even more yours), or has it become something slightly separate from you?
Rob: There’s a practical distance between me and the book now, simply because I haven’t looked at it deeply in a long while. But honestly, it still feels very much like mine. In some ways more so now than ever. I think this award situation is why.
We Mostly Come Out at Night got a great deal more attention. It was a finalist for four different prizes and won the CNY Book Award. Although I was tremendously thrilled and honored by all of the accolades it received, I never really felt like they belonged to me. Because the book was an anthology, those honors acknowledged the collective work of a team of many writers, of which I just happened to be the coach. While I certainly made an important and leading contribution, I was still one name among many in the Table of Contents.
In contrast, An Ugly World for Beautiful Boys is all mine. While the novel is very far from autobiographical, it’s still the most personal thing I’ve written. It’s very much a reflection of me and my creative voice, more so than probably anything else I’ve done. That’s not to diminish the incredibly important contributions to the book made by other people, including my husband, Werner Sun; my agent, Marie Lamba; my editor, Steve Berman; and good friends and beta readers like Anne Mazer, Nancy Werlin, Nicole Valentine, and (of course) you—all of whom I thanked in the acceptance speech I didn’t get to give. But if I were hit by a bus tomorrow, it would be this novel that I’d want to be remembered for. And so to have it recognized by Lambda Literary in this way made me feel, probably for the first time in my whole career, like a real and serious writer.
So yeah, it’s mine, and while I’m delighted to share it with as many readers as possible, I’m not letting go of my pride of authorship just yet!
Thanks for giving me the opportunity to experience this joy with you, Rob. I can’t wait to see what’s next for you.
In community,
Jennifer
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Cocktails and Conversation
Let’s face it: Times are tough. The economy is a wreck, the political situation is dire, and publishing is (as ever) a dumpster fire. More than anything, what we writers crave in these dark days is community.
With that need in mind, R(ev)ise and Shine! presents: Cocktails & Conversation, a fun, free, and informal online social hour for writers. Join Lesa, Jennifer, Jo, and Rob for a freewheeling evening of laughter and connection as we open the floor to conversation and community-building. We’ll talk books, craft, and the writing life—as well as anything else that’s on your mind. Bring your friends and your own cocktails…
When: Wednesday, July 22, 2026 from 7:00 to 8:00 pm ET
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YEAH!!!!! You two look FABULOUS! Rob, I am so happy to read this reflection. Hold the joy in your heart forever. This is what community looks like. Love you!!!!!!
Congrats Rob!