Floundering

Excuse me, but has anyone seen my kidney laying around somewhere? I'm getting eviscerated you see, and I always like to keep track of my pieces when I'm getting eviscerated so I can get myself back in order afterwards.

You know those scenes on 30 Rock where Jenna locks herself in her dressing room because her niece drew an unflattering picture of her or because her stalker forgot about her or somesuch nonsense? I have infinitely more sympathy for her now.

It turns out the old adage about never reading your own reviews is a good one. People are mean! Multiply that exponentially and then square it when those same people are on the Internet.

I bought some marketing space on a Starcraft 2 related site and at first the responses were encouraging. People were excited! I was excited! Hooray! Or so I thought.

As so often happens on Internet forums, the weather turned foul and I saw far more backhanded slaps than high fives. They insulted my writing. They mocked my plot. They even picked apart my character's name!

Yikes. I had no idea. No. Idea.

So now I'm…floundering, to be quite honest. As someone who's always been somewhat hesitant to let other people read my writing (not blogging writing, mind you. Obviously) to see it flayed to bits for fun is traumatizing in the worst way. I never set out to write the best book ever written. I just wanted to tell a story.

Apparently that's abhorrent to a lot of people.

The only thing keeping me from refusing to get out of bed is Wes, funny enough. He's made it his mission to provide proof that this is how it is for almost everyone who publishes something. Even respected, amazing writers. He won't let me wallow, and insists that the negative comments haven't shaken his faith in my writing at all.

I tell you, that kind of support is truly unique. If everyone had someone in their life who believed in them like Wes believes in me, I'd love to see how much could get accomplished.

As for me? Well, as badly as I want to burrow under the covers and lay there in an abject pile of misery and bad self esteem, I won't. I'll just keep putting one foot in front of the other and doing my darndest to ignore the comments of the faceless masses on the Internet who go after helpless books like heat-seeking missiles.

Who knows? I might even work up the courage to publish another book! Someday. Maybe when I'm 80 and senility and dementia have set in. Probably then.