It's that time again... love in all its guises from the email bag:
"I like your blog, but I have a hard time taking you seriously. You are condoning alcohol abuse. My father [blanked out to protect the innocent, but imagine alcoholic family stereotype] and it's insulting to have people think that alcohol and the abuse is ok, even funny."
Please read the archives for my opinion about this. Then, talk to someone who is better equipped for talk therapy than me.
"Do you ever Google yourself?"
I have the Google alerts, but, strangely enough, I rarely read that email. It's usually a blast from the past, like a webpage I wrote for a PR company ten years ago.
"I have to admit that I'm not digging the whole historical novel vibe."
It is extremely limiting, and I have a feeling that by summer I'll be over it. However, I'm learning a lot about the genre and enjoying more of what I'm reading, at least compared to "the 1001 books to read before you die."
"You hurt a lot of people's feelings, including mine. How will you like that when your writing is published? At least mine WAS published." [continued rant]
If you're going to put yourself out there, you can expect to be criticized. My first book (wow, yes I was published) has major flaws. There. I admit it. But I took my hits, too. You need to pick and choose... you can't take everyone's advice.
This is a reader's blog as seen through a writer's lens. I'm not an anonymous hater. You know who I am and you can contact me directly. For now, I'd concentrate on growing a thicker skin. It has served me well.