Ack! How Many Days?

[lydamorehouse]

I just finished *most* of my holiday shopping. The big one is still pending (a gift for Mason from Santa that requires a trip to the Sprawl of America. Sorry, Cap. I think I'm going to skip tomorrow's workout to go shopping.) Plus, he and I have to go mail some presents after school today, which ought to be an excercise in patience at the post office.

As pagans living in a Christian country, we decided not to deny Mason the whole Christmas thing. Plus, so much of it is really pagan: the tree, the lights in the darkness, etc. But we also celebrate Yule/Winter Solstace with the traditional lighting of a Yule Log, story telling, and small gift exchange. We try to make our Solstace gifts more personal and less about the bling and the greed. (We save the greed and overindulgence for Christmas.)

We have a ginormous tree, which I mentioned earlier. It really does look quite impressive as it's slowly swallowing our living room as it unfolds as it warms up.

Last night I had a strange dream. It involved the Univeristy of Northern Illinois and the archivist there (hi, Lynn!) with whom we're negotating to take my literary papers. In my dream, Shawn and I drove down to the university, and discovered Lynn working out of a trailer. When we asked her about the status of the donation, she sheepishly informed me that the university would only be collecting papers from people with PhDs, so they were no longer interested in my stuff. (In my dream, I think I was a member of the Avengers, because I complained bitterly that this meant Dr. Bruce Banner/Hulk would still be accepted, but not a lowly staff photographer like me. Apparently, I decided I was Peter Parker/Spider-Man. then I muttered something like, "Sheesh, how many times does a guy have to save the world to get any respect?")

When I told Shawn about this dream a few moments ago, she said, "Well, I'm not surprised given what we talked about last night." What was that again? Oh, right, the newest Amazon.com review I read which said that my writing (Tate's TDD) was better suited as a college "creative writing" excercise than a novel. Ouch. I think my subconscious took that hit personally.

I should know better than to read reviews, but I still do it. What I was telling Shawn about last night is that even though intellectually I know that one opinion of my book isn't really much, but it's like reviewers always know your weak spots. You're already thinking you look fat in the dress, and a review like that one is all, "yeah, wow, you're a whale!" Even if you know better, it still hits you in a sensitive spot. All writers imagine they suck, even after a NY publisher picks you up.

Comments

[rarelylynne.livejournal.com]

Oookay, then.

I promise, you don't need a PhD. And I have a real office in a REAL BUILDING. :) Pinky swear.

And you'd be one of the prized names in our archive, especially since whoever gave you that review sucks eggs and probably didn't read the book. Your Tate books rock. Just sayin'.

:)

[holy-toledo.livejournal.com]

As a survivor of university creative writing (how they decided they could slot a "creative" in there, I'll never know, no one gets out with their creativity in tact), I can tell you with 100% certainty that your reviewer was a jealous grad student. They will never have the readership, the popularity, or the fun you have with your writing. But by God, they write within the structure, and their long, meandering work involving their dead grandmother and an abused dog that seems to allude to the abused inner child of the main character, and will one day, perhaps after they are dead, finally be appreciated for their masterpiece.

Until then, they'll starve and write meandering prose, spew their bile all over their freshmen creative writing students' work to make themselves feel better, fawn over other unpopular writers with PhDs who the college decided were worthy of professorship, smoke, drink coffee, and slam genre authors who a) reach a wider audience and b) achieve greater popularity without flushing all that money down the university toilet.

In other words, pay this ass wipe no heed. You are a great writer!

-Mel

Oh dear!

[muneraven.livejournal.com]

Hey Lyda,

I have an MFA and taught creative writing at a university before I ran screaming from the bitter and weird politics of academia. Tate's writing isn't anything like a college creative writing exercise. Witches and vampires? Snarky narrators? These things are not allowed in college writing courses.

Okay, maybe if you made your main character really depressed. Maybe with a drinking problem. Give her lots of ennui so she doesn't really DO anything. And her vampire boyfriend would have to be symbolic of the faux feminist male in patriarchal society who feeds off women, right? And then you have to rewrite the whole thing so that it sounds a lot like some famous writer's voice: Raymond Carver, maybe, or Flannery O'Connor. Or could you do Virginia Woolf? If you could rewrite the whole thing as sort of "To the Lighthouse" with vampires, that might fly in a college writing course.

My point is that, as bad reviews go, that one is too silly to allow it to bother you. The old "this sounds like a college workshop story" insult is a hoary old insult that people trot out when they don't like a story for whatever reason. It's a lot like amateur critics bellowing "MARY SUE STORY" at every book that has a main character with some good and noble qualities. Dumb stuff from dumb people.

I'm sorry a bad review (a BAD bad review) got in your brain and bothered you at night. I hope your brain flushed it upon further consideration.

:-)

Karen