Feast and Famine

I can’t say I ever read reviews for my books, what few there are. 

I can’t stomach it. 

I am sure it’s something I didn’t learn when I was younger, that ability to take criticism, digest it, soak up the nutrients and expel the rest. All I know is that I have always had a hard time with that, and still do. 

It’s stupid, to avoid it, but I do. Something I am sure I have mentioned in another blog on here somewhere. 

How can I be a creative, put myself out there, but fear what others say?

Is it vanity?

No. 

Not so much as my feeling I am beyond reproach or that I am some literary genius people don’t understand. 

It’s more that unless it was something that would truly help me do what I do, there’s no value to me and I just don’t expect to get that from a review. 

The few that there are. 

Most people simply tell you if they love or hate a thing or are just so-so. Heck, that’s what I do with my movies reviews because I am not out to torch someone and know they aren’t apt to get my review in front of them or CARE what I have to say. 

I dunno who my audience is, per se, but they are the ones that’d be interested in the weirdness I have to offer. 

I get that what I do isn’t for everyone, and am fine with that, but there’s a fine line to walk where you take in what people think but don’t let it poison you. 

I am unfortunately not so well armored as to keep the poison out. 

Were this my full time job, were I to have the time to invest fully in writing alone then I’d have no choice but to listen to see if there are patterns I don’t see. 

Things I could fix. 

And we need to be open to hearing that we can do better.

Open to the people whose opinions we value – either willingly or unwillingly – and who want us to be better and do better.

We are not perfect. Our creations are not perfect. We need to be willing to grow and adapt and evolve or we’re just singing ourselves to sleep.

Since this is an avocation though, and essentially my hobby, I won’t take that from myself because of some reviews that may or may not think I am as bad as moldy bread. 

And it’s all ego, in the end, of course it is, fragile and fractured, but you do what you can with what you have and go from there. 

I love telling stories. 

I dunno that I am very good at it, or if the ideas are better than my skills, or if neither are any darn good, but I need it, that release, and will keep at it. 

Not selling books, not having readers hurts terribly, but it is what it is. 

Ya just keep chugging and hope someone finds things one day. 

I hope you do, friend. 

I hope you find something of mine and like it. 

That’s the hope. 

…c…

The Haunted Bookstore