Well, truthfully, oftentimes this is just author behaving like a human being.
See, writers are flawed creatures. Just like everyone else. And perhaps more so because they get this insane idea to scribble down the shit flowing around their brains and then present it out to the world to read.
For praise or savaging. We have no control over which. It’s a crap shoot. And sometimes it’s just crappy.
Other times, it’s not.
Yeah, there are times when I want to take a fork to someone’s eye. Most of the time it’s because rising to the top of the sewage are obvious sock puppets. And it’s a pity when someone actually draws a mouth on a sock puppet because it can blather on like no one’s business. The internet is a giant anonymous pool. It allows all sorts of bottom feeders the cover to chew off people’s toes.
See thing is, it’s not just authors these people chew on. It’s kind of everyone. Kind of like psychological serial killers who masturbate to the thought of their words hurting someone.
See all that up there? It’s bitter and foul. So steeped in bitter it’s like a tea bag left in a glass of water for a week. Water’s all dried up and there’s this thick black sludge left at the bottom. Not very healthy to drink. And sure as hell not healthy to produce.
Here’s the thing…bad reviews suck. Sometimes people suck. And no amount of praise is going to alleviate the crappy feeling of someone purposely reaching out to stab you in the brain or heart… pretty fork notwithstanding.
I can’t tell you the forking isn’t going to hurt. It is. Hell, I’ve got people who seem to make a point of reading my books just so they can smear shit over what I’ve written. I’d like to tell you I’m over it. Mostly now I sigh and say… oh look, it’s them again. Don’t they have something else to do?
Thing is, they don’t.
But you do.
Get out of that space. Fast. Don’t take it with you. Don’t carry that person’s shit. I’m not saying drink from the bucket of magic Kool-Aid where you’re a fantastic person and everyone loves you. That’s not a realistic POV either. That kind of shit leads to places like North Korea or bouncers looking for a piece of ass on a Friday night. Don’t be that person.
Try to find that steady happy medium. Okay maybe a medium large. Skew the needle over to the Kool-Aid rather than the sludge ‘cause here’s the big thing—you wrote a book, you expressed an emotion, you succeeded at something important to you, or you just were reaching out to see if anyone saw or heard you.
That’s a good thing. Celebrate your accomplishment. Hell, celebrate your fucking existence because really, the chances of you being you were really damned slim. You were the sperm that hit the egg. Yeah, there were countless others but you started life as the winner. Doesn’t matter how, you got there. You fucking got in there.
So here’s to you. Screw the other wiggly bits behind you. You’ve made it. And went even further. Do good with that. Compliment someone. Hold the door open and don’t expect a thank you but say you’re welcome if you get one. Most of all, smile because you’ve won your first ever race. The biggest race. The one that counted. Big fucking prize you get for participating in that race.
And as for the rest of it, we’re all going to behave badly sometimes. What matters is whether or not we continue to do so. So for right now… enjoy the sunrise. Count some clouds. Listen to an hour of your very favourite songs. Then go forth and keep accomplishing shit. Be they small or large.
Just celebrate. And don’t forget to take your dishes to the sink.
Rhys Ford 