The other day I received one of the strangest letters I’ve ever, well, received. First, I should clarify it wasn’t what most call “letters”. I’ve come in this digital age to think of writings more in terms of length, intent, tone, etc. rather than medium. Let’s face it, unless you’re vastly different than me, the majority of your correspondence (by far) comes in the form of emails, Facebook messages, texts, and tweets (probably in that order). Yes, many of us still have a relative or two who couldn’t name a “social media network” if the correct answer literally paid $64,000, and still write wonderfully heartfelt, painstakingly penned correspondence, but probably not too many (at least not at my age).
Give me a break; when else will feel justified putting B.P. in my blog? (Plus he’s looking haggard these days.)
I have a policy that, unless the company/person/entity’s name is a household word (e.g. Stephen King or Brad Pitt), I don’t use people’s real names when discussing potentially negative subject matter, so I won’t be using the correspondent’s name. However, I am going to assign a fictional name to make writing this piece a bit easier. I happened to meet an “Olivia” the other day and didn’t realize until that moment how much I adore that name so—
Olivia is a friend of the family. She’s actually the daughter of a friend, so she and I have spoken perhaps a dozen words between us ever, and none (that I can recall) over email, text, etc. I am aware of her aspirations to be a writer and a few other major personal events (marriage, births, etc.) and frankly, that’s it. I was not even aware she’d read anything I’d ever written. No blog comments, no reviews of any of my books—so not even any passive commentary.
Back to why I called this correspondence I received a “letter”: purely because of its length and personal nature. It wasn’t an advertisement or announcement of any kind; it was a diatribe written directly to me, about my blog, about my treatment of those who read my blog, about my encouragement (or lack thereof) for fresh, unknown writers, and about the things I needed to learn about writing in general.
To say I felt this came out of left field would be like saying John Wilkes Booth’s jump onto the stage was no more than a man searching for the restroom in the middle of a play. Here are a few quotes from the letter (yes, I am aware of context and I’ll do my best not to leave any out that would completely change the intent or meaning of what was being said):
The tone of your blog is very superior and at times hypocritical. You are very harsh toward those who you believe are shameless self-promoters, only interested in followers, angry about not selling enough books, who believe that they are not getting the audience that they deserve. Yet this is exactly the way you come across to many.
You are constantly plugging other authors in exchange for plugs yourself. I have to wonder where you find all the time for such high-quality prose when so much of it is wasted on social media.
I simply cannot abide the negative attitude toward other writers who you feel are beneath you, or even publishers and reviewers who had the nerve to reject you. When NaNoWriMo came around, you made your disdain for amateur writers abundantly clear — when you yourself have a great deal to learn about writing. (We all do.) Your attitude that writing is only for the muse-inspired, those who have been blessed with a gift for words, is prescriptivist and limiting. The idea that writing is not hard work, that the craft cannot be learned and honed through years of work, is an insult to many of the world’s most highly-regarded writers, most of whom none of us could ever presume to sit at the same table with, including you. I can’t understand how a writer would dare to define writing in such a narrow way, unless it was to define only those like himself as “real” writers and be able to then exclude many, many others.
[NOTE: I had to look up “prescriptivist”. Here’s what a free online dictionary had to say about the root of the word, prescriptive (a prescriptivist obviously being someone who writes in such a way) :
pre·scrip·tive (pr-skrptv)
adj.
1. Sanctioned or authorized by long-standing custom or usage.
2. Making or giving injunctions, directions, laws, or rules.
3. Law Acquired by or based on uninterrupted possession.
4. Linguistics based on or establishing norms or rules indicating how a language should or should not be used rather than describing the ways in which a language is used.
I highlighted number 4 since it seemed to tie to linguistics, writing, grammar, etc. I’m still not sure what’s being said here, but I think Olivia is saying I am a dictator of language. The irony is, I am a terrible speller (thank you, God, for spell-check, even available in browsers now). Grammarians are normally English teachers or editors by trade. I wouldn’t argue with either on the subject of grammar. Journalists have their own code of language usage that I wouldn’t begin to dictate. And frankly, I have only once shared with other writers my own experiences over the years in my book, INK: Eight Rules To A Better Book—which I wrote to share my twenty-plus years of writing workshops helping others (and them helping ME) with current, fledgling, and experienced authors, and also to encourage other writers. The dedication to said book is:
To my fellow talented writers.
Words are like oxygen.
Never give up.
Write on.
Prevail.
Perhaps the word “talented” angered Olivia? My feeling is, when people lash out at negative comments, its their own psychomachia, not he or she who made the criticism. (I had to match Olivia and put one of those ten thousand dollar words in there somewhere, didn’t I? For those of you who don’t know what it means—I didn’t—it’s a conflict of the soul, and it is the internal lack of self-confidence that produces a psychological act called “projecting”.)
Certainly I blog about my take on producing good fiction, which thanks to a few words strung together and ratified as a little thing called the First Amendment, I’m allowed to do freely. I don’t claim to be the greatest writer in my own county, much less any area of land larger than that, but even if I had, people are free to take what they feel works for them and flush the rest right down the ole crapper.]
Anyway, back to the letter. I’m guessing you can imagine how something like this felt, especially since I had just woken up around midnight to drink from the glass on my night stand and happened to glance and see there was a message on Facebook. I responded, rather viscerally (partly because I was half-asleep and partly because I was really pretty offended and hurt). It’s taken me several days to decide if or how I should respond. (For the record, I did not include my response to her, nor hers back to me, nor my final to her, because at that point, it always devolves to a discourse of he-said-she-said, misjudgements, final reponses begotten, and doesn’t pertain to public discussion. I probably should not have posted Olivia’s first letter, but I really felt we needed a starting point, and I didn’t elicit it (at least not intentionally or purposefully). She offered it up, unbid, so in my opinion that made the content fair fodder in writing this blog. Olivia, if you disagree, I apologize.
I will say this, however, because it calls into question my integrity as well as my feeling toward my readers: Olivia did mention in her response to me, answering my question of why she’s never posted one single comment on my hundreds of blogs, that she’s “seen how I treat commenters.” I can say with absolute certainty that I feel my comments are always respectful, or at least as reciprocally respectful as required, and setting aside the NaNoWriMo blog, I don’t think I’ve ever said a mean word to a commenter.
And on that note, it’s no coincidence that Olivia actually mentions the “event that shall not be named” (regular readers will get that; passersby may not). By far, the most unpopular blog I’ve ever written is the dreaded NaNoWriMo blog. I believe it was my third or fourth blog, and still, whenever that ugly acronym rears its ugly head, I am accused (by those who know me not) of being an elitist pig who thinks all beginning, aspiring, call them what you will writers, should be stopped immediately and sent to the gulags. Wait, the U.S. doesn’t have gulags, so, I suppose my detractors would accuse me of crying “off with their heads.”
My “disdain” is for the event is simply about what it represents to people who are actually bleeding every single day trying to be WRITERS. I read a statistic the other day that stated 81% of the people polled believed they could write a novel worth reading.
By the public.
Worth paying for.
Eighty. One. Percent.
So yes, I tend to blog at times about the absolute ludicrousness of so many people thinking they can do something so difficult, as if it were as natural as breathing. Olivia accuses me of, in one sentence, believing writing cannot be improved upon by hard work. She accuses me in another of having a disdain for amateur writers. Not true in the least, and anyone who reads my blog regularly knows this. I scoff at homemakers and bartenders and parking meter attendants and mechanics and police officers and circus clowns—i.e. people who work in a completely different trades—thinking once a year they are going to jump feet first into the trade where I have poured decades of blood on the page, because, well, anyone can write a book, now can’t they?
Oh, yes, in 30 days.
I‘m not speaking about amateur WRITERS. I’M an amateur writer (at least until I can go each month without fearing a missed mortgage payment, anyway). I’m talking about 81% of the country thinking writing is so easy that they can birth a novel in 30 days.
If anything, I am speaking FOR writers—FOR those who have chosen to work hard, and write every day, and never give up. I will say this, however:
If the only time you get serious about your writing and put pen to paper is for one month in November, you aren’t very serious about “being a writer”, now are you? Does that mean you don’t have talent? I have no idea. Does that mean you could improve by writing more often than once a year? I’d say absolutely.
But think of it this way: would someone trying to eat healthy be lauded as a healthy eater if they ate well one out of twelve months? Would a parent be considered a good parent if they showed love and affection and guidance to their children for one month and then ignored them or beat them the other eleven?
I have my right to think NaNoWriMo is the biggest farce on the planet just as much as anyone else has the right to think it’s the most productive idea since electricity or the cotton gin. And just because I don’t think every plumber cannot be turned into a writer does NOT mean I believe there is not a plumber wandering around out there that has the potential to be the next Dickens or Steinbeck.
What I will say is this: if you believe that 81% (or all) people on the planet earth could write a great novel, then one of the following is almost certainly true:
1. You’ve never written a novel.
2. You’ve never written a readable novel.
3. You think writing is just another action, like reading, not a career or an art.
4. All of the above.
I am not the one that thinks writing is easy. If it were, everyone would be doing it. WAIT. Everyone is doing it.
Can anyone be a prizefighter?
Can anyone be a firefighter?
Can anyone be an astronaut?
Can anyone be a doctor?
Can anyone be a nuclear physicist?
I suggest you watch a little reality TV and check out the selection pool before you answer any of the above questions. But for some reason everyone (or at least 81% of everyone) believes they can be a writer.
I don’t feel elite. I am my own worst critic. The only time I have used the term “shameless self-promotion” is in reference to myself. No one feels more like a snake oil salesman than me when I pimp my books. It makes me feel slimy. A huckster. But I’ve studied the mechanics of marketing, branding, etc. and it must be done. I still rarely do it here, on the blog. Go back and read every blog and do the math. I know readers don’t tune in to hear me shuck my books and so I rarely do (and every book you read will tell you to fill your blog with mentions of your books, links, etc.). I still won’t do it. That’s not why I blog.
And here is the reality: just as there are painters who take us to heights we never imagined possible, so are there writers who accomplish the same thing (these would be the writers at whose table Olivia so graciously pointed out I will never sit). Wanting to be a great writer, working hard your whole life, even thinking of nothing else, does not guarantee you (nor I) will ever reach that place. But I believe a writer does need a muse. And I feel a writer, to be successful in the long term, does require some innate ability. I don’t state it as fact because I can’t—but I am entitled to my educated opinion. I’ve probably critiqued over a hundred manuscripts of varying sizes over the years and I can tell within the first few pages whether I’m dealing with someone who’s got “it” or someone who doesn’t.
One of the analogies I use often is American Idol, not because I love the show (though I love that fact that it, and the myriad copycat programs, have created opportunities for Uknowns to become Knowns). I can’t imagine how many gems are out there, unread, unappreciated, undiscovered. AI finds singers who might never otherwise be noticed. Yes, every year they discover (from thousands who believe themselves the next star) a collection of mighty talented people, all who I believe will find (with that hard work) success in the business.
But some years they also find one or two with “it”.
“It” is in many ways intangible, but people like Simon Cowell and Clive Davis have built empires on knowing “it” when they see it.
That doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t hammer out a living writing. But I will always take offense when my chosen profession is treated like a magic trick that can be sold in any corner shop and taught to anyone willing to take the time.
And you, dear Olivia, just as the rest of the world, are entitled to your opinion of me, my writing, my intentions, and my talent. I may dismiss them, or from some I may learn, but I’ll always be proud to live where speech is free.
Writing can be a wonderful, powerful thing. But so can be singing. And I’ll say this: if for one month each year I had to listen to the (awful) pre-qualifying Idol contestants sing, I’d put a bullet in my head.
My choice.
My taste.
I never said it had to be yours.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The blank page is dead…long live the blank page.
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Author known to use spontaneous satire, sarcasm, and unannounced injections of pith or witticisms which may not be suitable for humorless or otherwise jest-challenged individuals. (Witticisms not guaranteed to be witty, funny, comical, hilarious, clever, scintillating, whimsical, wise, endearing, keen, savvy, sagacious, penetrating, fanciful, or otherwise enjoyable. The Surgeon General has determined through laboratory testing that sarcasm can be dangerous, even in small amounts, and should not be ingested by those who are serious, somber, pensive, weighty, funereal, unsmiling, poker-faced, sober, or pregnant.)
You’re right about most negativity or ‘out of the blue’ responses being projections from the listener. They feel bad, so they try to make the speaker feel bad.
It’s too bad, really. If people began discussions at the beginning (e.g. “I feel like you were talking about me” or “I interpreted what you said as this or that” I think people would be surprised (even shocked) to find out how wrong they were and that they were feeling bad about themselves for no reason at all. Thanks much for the response, Mary. 🙂
What the actual fuck is wrong with “Olivia”? When the hell have you ever been superior, hypocritical? Better yet, where?! I’ve had the pleasure of speaking with you, and reading your stuff. You’ve never been anything but humble with your words. A little garrulous (my own 10K word), maybe, but never superior. I’m kidding about the garrulous, though.
Doing plugs for other authors in exchange for your own plugs? I haven’t seen that either. Now, that concept is okay. I’ve heard it called as paying it forward. But from what I’ve seen, Rob, you only talk about those you enjoy reading, or working with. I think I’ve seen a total of 4 plugs on your blog. I could be wrong about that number, but that’s what I recall.
Regarding NaNo, I’d disagree with you a little about the concept of that event. I’m thinking it’s a personal contest with public accountability to help those of us authors that battle that demon, Procrastination. He kicks my ass frequently. That’s why I’ve not yet sent my novel out to be edited. Well, that, and I’m afraid my novel will be sent back with a big ass laugh from the editor asking what was I thinking attempting to write a novel.
Sorry about the mini-rant, Rob, but that section pissed me off. I can’t believe the nerve of that broad. I hope you don’t let it bother you. You’re an amaing writer, and an awesome friend. Thank you for writing the books that you have, thank you for this blog, and most importantly, thank you for you words of encouragement.
Garrulous…wow, now that’s at least a $15K word! 😉 I know you said you were joking, but I have a theory that most jokes have a half-truth buried in them somewhere, and I’m really glad you pointed out the (many times) garrulous nature of my blog. You may have noticed this one was perhaps my longest ever, and for the first time, I actually had to leave a few paragraphs on the floor (a couple because they were too garrulous. One, however, was about that subject exactly. When I set out to write this blog I promised to “call ’em as I see them”, and as most readers know, I have my disclaimer I made shortly after the “event that shall never be mentioned” blog. I’ve always been a smart ass, sarcasm is actually listed on my resumé as a second language, and I consider my writing style (when blogging) more of a David Letterman style—sharp-tongued, but equally so with myself. In fact, I consider self-deprecation not only one of the funniest forms of humor, but also very cathartic (back to the half-truth in every joke). Thing is, a LOT of people (or at least a lot more than I would have ever guessed) don’t get that kind of humor at all. I mean AT ALL. I figure that’s their problem. Change the channel to Leno. 😀
Thanks for commenting, R.w. And thanks for defending me. Garrulous, yes—prescriptivist? NEVER.
I suspect Olivia might not like me either. I tend to say a certain portion of the population isn’t very bright (or more correctly, rarely chooses to use the brains it was born with). That percenatge isn’t 81%, but you could say that the fact that 81% of people believe they could write a novel supports my premise 😉
I think the percentage might scare the heck out of you, Ciara, depending on where you set the bar at “bright”. Not sure how it is down under but here in the good ole U.S.A. the streets are teeming with lemmings. Thing is, I have learned this past couple of years, since really jumping into the writing biz, that this fact is great for poor writers (writers who write poorly, not broke ones like me): the high percentage of low intellect out there gives them a HUGE readership. Seriously. I wonder sometimes how these horrible books can sell a cornucopia of copies and I believe this is why: for every level of writer, there really is a reader. At least one, but actually, with seven billion people on the planet, quite a few. Thanks for the comment, CB. 🙂
The 81% is not surprising. That same number — or one very close to it —probably applies to American Idol contestants. On the other hand, many writers use Nano to beat out their first draft of something and then spend months making it perfect. In that sense it’s a great motivator, but you are right in that it brings out the wannabes.
Although I’m not easily offended (at least enough to make a big deal out of it), I do see how some people could take your tone either the wrong way or more harsh than most others do. Actually I think it’s kind of nice to read a writer’s blog that has some backbone to it, saying the things others are afraid of.
Do I agree with everything you say? No, but anyone would be hard pressed to find another individual who agrees with them 100% of the time. In fact, that would be kind of creepy.
Thank you, Mark. If I had Kewpie dolls, you would be the winner of the biggest one in stock. I said from the beginning I would always be honest, even when it hurt (and even when it hurt me—I make fun of myself as much as anyone else). If you read my response to R.w. Foster, that really sums it up. But no one has said it better than you “Do I agree with everything you say? No, but anyone would be hard pressed to find another individual who agrees with them 100% of the time. In fact, that would be kind of creepy.”
Many times I think blog, instead of being short for weblog, should be an acronym. B.L.O.G.
Big Load Of Garbage.
When you get right down to it, unless you’re writing for HuffPost or another nationally syndicated blog (which is really just a new kind of online newspaper column; i.e. journalism), you’re just speaking your mind. And when people want to call it garbage and move along, they can. As I said to R.w.: change the channel to Leno.
Thanks for adding to the conversation, Mark. 🙂
I will never understand why some people feel “a duty” to criticize or point out to another individual what THEY feel are your shortcomings. That’s not to say they don’t have a right to their opinion, only that there is a right way and a wrong way to have a discourse on the subject. As you know, I just wrote a blog on this very same topic, “Is Kindness Your Second Language.” (–>shameless self-promoter)
In any event, I read every single one of your blogs. I can always take something away from it – no matter whether it’s a tip on writing, marketing, to a great movie to go out and rent, or, just getting a dose of your humor and my laugh for the day. People absorb what they want from anything they read – blog, newspaper, book, magazine – injecting into it their own tone and inflection from the content along with it. What I read will not be interpreted by me the same as when you would read it.
I do however, have an opinion on being a writer that differs: I don’t believe writers are made any more than I believe firefighters or doctors are made, or any other professional, daredevil, or artist that possesses a passion for what they do. You either are born with the heart of a writer or you’re not. Yes, you can learn the craft but when pen goes to paper, unless your heart is in it, it will just be words. Firefighters and doctors…yes, they learn how to do it but unless they have that desire to save lives, that instinct to heal, they’re not going to “care” about their patients. And, I wouldn’t want any doctor working on me that didn’t have his or her heart in it.
One of my favorite writing quotes sums up what a “true” writer does: “Write it from the core—the heart, the soul. And tell as much little as possible, showing with the absence of need for letters on the page.” You can’t learn how to do that from any book or lecture.
Thanks for jumping in the pool, Chcklets. 😉 You know, you described what I call “the muse”, the thing Olivia doesn’t believe a writer needs to have to be a great writer:
“You either are born with the heart of a writer or you’re not.”
That “heart of a writer” is your muse. The need to write. I could not understand where Olivia divined the idea that I think hard work doesn’t make a writer better. Au contraire. I believe no writer will ever reach their potential, no matter how hard they work, because we writers (even those at whose table I will never sit) can always improve, so we’ll die, still having been able to get better.
My point is and always has been (as you eloquently summed up): you’ve either got the heart of a writer or you don’t. No changing that. You can still get “better” with practice, just as someone without any basketball skills whatsoever can get “better” with hours and hours of practice. I just don’t believe that player—not being born with natural heart and passion for the game (and yes, I’ll say it: athletic ability, too)—will ever play in the NBA. But as you say, that’s just my belief. No one has a gun pointed at their head telling them they have to agree.
It’s ironic you mentioned a right and wrong way to have discourse on a subject (implying that lashing out at someone and tearing apart their motives, actions, etc. is not the right way). I told Olivia it would have been nice to have had some civil discourse on this before she blindsided me with a harsh letter and she told me that’s what we were then doing. Having discourse. I beg to disagree. 🙂
Hi Rob. I follow your blog, and enjoy reading every post. You post about a variety of subjects, often humorously, sometimes sad, but you’re not afraid to speak your mind, which I really enjoy. I don’t always comment, but the times that I have, you have always responded, been respectful, sympathetic even. I am a fellow amateur writer, and am always eager for any writing advice you have to offer. And no, I have never felt offended by any of your posts. Just keep going, don’t worry about the haters.
Thank you so much for this, Niki. One of my tenets in life is to always try and be kind, sympathetic—put yourself in the other person’s shoes. When Olivia accused me of mistreating my commenters, I couldn’t believe it. Yes, my blog can be sarcastic and cutting at times, but that’s just my way. I’ve always had a sarcastic, Saturday Night Live, David Letterman, Louis C.K. kind of humor to me. Some people see that as looking down on them or being high-handed. I appreciate my readers more than anything in the world, whether they agree with me or not.
I honestly want you to know your taking the time to say what you said means a lot to me. 😀
Ughhh -don’t critical critics have anything better to do at midnight???
81% have a story worth telling but their ability to write a compelling story is another statistic
Wow, you summed up my long-winded blog in one sentence!! I’ll be fair and add “don’t put-upon writers have anything better to do at midnight than write visceral, lengthy replies to haters?? 😉
Thanks for the comment, Leslie.
I liked to say I was surprised at the harshness of Olivia’s ‘letter’, but I’m not. I don’t agree with her opinion, but I can understand why she may feel that way. One thing I have definitely learned from my critique group what you thought was an innocent, perhaps funny comment will be taken completely the wrong way at times.
I always found your blog to be informative, and forthright. I, of course, don’t always agree with your view points, but I don’t read blogs to find people who agree with me completely. I do it to find opposing, and contradicting views on things. I learn more that way.
As you said Olivia is a child of a friend, I hope this resolves itself in the future. If she really wants to become a writer you can offer her a great deal of guidance and advice.
Thanks for the added thoughts, Fatma. I don’t blog thinking every9one that reads it will agree with everything I say, either. As one of the previous commenters said, “that would just be weird.” 🙂 I do find that over the years, I receive comments from people whose sense of humor (if they have one) is different than mine, and they don’t get my humor or, as you gave example, an innocent comment you thought was funny, they think you’ve insulted their entire lineage. That was when I started using the disclaimer at the bottom. Obviously the disclaimer itself is tainted with my sense of humor, but that’s kind of the point. So many people just can’t STAND it if you don’t think what they think. I have a lot of friends, for example, that really enjoy NaNoWriMo. I’ve never so much as poked fun at them and it doesn’t change how I feel about them at all. I get to believe what I believe, they get to feel how they feel. But some people, if you aren’t with ’em, you’re against ’em, and you’re despicable. I always say, joke ’em if they can’t take a fuck. 😉
Thanks again for taking the time to read and comment.
Rob, I have to see that line, “Joke ’em if they can’t take a fuck.” Brilliant!
Shit. “Steal” is what I meant to type, not “see”.
Just to let you know, because I want to slit my wrists the moment after I realize I posted something out in public with a stupid typo (especially when trying to be funny…like ruining a punchline): you should be able to edit your post any time you like. Try it after this response—hover over your post and near the bottom you should see a couple of options (edit, delete, etc.). I knew what you meant. My friends and I have been saying that for YEARS. Glad you liked it! 🙂
No comment. 🙂
I haven’t followed you long, but I don’t see any of what she is saying about you. I don’t follow too many blogs. The reason I do follow yours is your sense of humor. I also have a lot to learn to become a successful writer, and I try to find people that are trying to do it the right way.
I may be off in this statement, but it seems to me she has a sense of entitlement going on, which has become a huge problem in our country. No one wants to work for what they get. It should be given to them, they feel. Writing a novel is extremely difficult. Writing a good one is even more difficult.
As for self-promotion, if you don’t do it who will. I expect writers to market their books to me, I want them to market their books to me. How do you think I found you? A promotion. Now, I will read everything you write. That’s the way it is supposed to work right? You better believe when I finish and publish mine I will be promoting it like crazy.
Well I have always called this new generation the E Generation (for entitled) and I obviously agree. I also think the same reality lowers the quality bar (i.e. what people are willing to accept or denote as “quality writing”.
I thank you for following the blog. I figured there had to be a few who appreciated my sense of humor. Count me excited for the release of your first. I’ll be right at the front of the line!
Hi! I definitely think that “Olivia” is projecting some of her own issues and frustrations onto you…Well, at least she caught your attention and that was probably her intention…like they say, any advertising is good advertising. I got an “accusing” email not too long ago (no, not about writing) and I know those can be hurtful. But for me at least it was good to stop and think “Did I really do all of those things?…heck no! That’s not who I am so don’t project your crap on me” . Wow. That felt good. I am new to this site…so far, I like what I see. I am a writer too, or should I say an amateur writer. I have one children’s book out “Tristan Wolf”. I know I have a lot to learn and I always appreciate good advise. I have recently started a blog bit.ly/13pyVrt, come by and visit! Good luck,
Mariana Llanos
Mariana: first, thank you sincerely from dropping by an becoming a reader. If I’d read something that scorching after just beginning to read a blog, I think I would have had pause and thought “uh-oh, is this guy some kind of ass?” Later in your comment, you nailed it: “But for me at least it was good to stop and think ‘Did I really do all of those things?…heck no!'” I have an ex-wife who you to accuse me of things—much like Olivia, you could do things well 1000 times but it was the 1001st you’d hear about, and also with zero example, always these broad accusation of being a terrible person, never doing this or always doing that. It would make me feel like I was crazy because I’d think “I never do that, or at least, like every other imperfect person on the planet, not often.” And suddenly, like you, I would realize (pardon my French; you’ll find I don’t hold back enough on the tongue” “Hell NO I don’t do that.”
It’s a tough lesson—or rather, tough to put into practice—but we have to take the bad with the good. We all seek success, but with any success also come the haters. For whatever reason. I happen to know “Olivia”, so I know she’s not a raving lunatic or anything, so she just thinks I’m a shitty person and terrible mentor, I guess. I have about 100 writers I mentor and read their stuff and try to help that would vehemently disagree, but Olivia is entitled to her own opinions (and issues).
I will definitely be checking out your new blog!! We all have to support each other to make it work. <~I've said something similar to that 1000 times. Does the person exemplified in that letter say this like this?? (See, hard to put into practice; always second-guessing). Thanks again for reading and commenting. And best of luck with the blog, and all your writing. 🙂
You were obviously talking about ME the whole time. I can tell, because I have NEVER told anyone my name is Olivia. Not that it is.
And your dig at NaNoMo – come on, it’s a great motivation to actually get that damn novel down onto the screen in 30 days. or less. Volume, baby, volume is the name of the game. Get books out there, to hell with quality. The garrulouser, the better.
Wow what lengths people will go to get their opinion heard.
I kid you not, I only visit three blogs. Rob’s, Konraths and Catherine ( i forget her last name 😉
I think Rob’s honesty will rub people the wrong way at times. But I like that. I like a straight shooter. Cut the bull and gets straight to the point.
I have to agree with NaNoWriMo and I thought the image above was true.
I mean, seriously. I’m all for trying to get pen on paper, or fingers on paper but spewing out a complete novel in 30 days? Yes i consider the 1st draft the vomit pass, but even a vomit pass for me takes longer than 30 days. Now having said that I think NaNoWriMo can be excellent for someone who thrives on challenges.
But the way I see it, if you’re a writer. You write. You don’t want for a challenge to kick you in the ass. You write even when the inspiration is not there. It will arrive. It always does. I truly believe its heat activated. The moment my bum has been on the seat long enough, it arrives 😉
Anyway, you can’t please everyone. There will always be haters.
I just ignore them and move on 😉
Keep plugging away Rob.
Thanks, Jon. I think you made a seriously integral point: people don’t want to hear the truth. Let’s face it; the truth stings. Sometimes it can be downright crippling. But reality is the antidote that people need. As I know you agree, pampering gets no one anywhere in this industry (or any other). To get any other kind of job, you must prove yourself—show your skills, knowledge, experience; but in writing, well, writing is like Nike: Just Do It.
I realize the draw of NaNoWriMo (though I will never type the acronym without feeling as if my keyboard just vomited on the screen). 🙂 It it what it is, and for some, if that’s what they need for a kick start, so be it. But I agree with you, even a first pass—one worth passing over again—probably takes more than 30 days.
I appreciate your reading and your commenting. The latter always adds intelligently to the conversation. YOU keep plugging, too. I know you will.
The goods ones persevere. 🙂