Journey: BlogFlash2012 Day 9

One day I'm going to take a different kind of journey. For one thing, I won't have to pack as much stuff : no teddy bears, no paper dolls, no Monster High junk. I won't have to pack bags and bags of snacks.

We'll get on our way early because a certain someone won't have to run back inside because she forgot a certain Blankie, or Otter, or Wombat. (She really does have a Wombat.)

When we arrive, we won't have to go to every single gift shop in the airport. We won't have to stop at "Ozarkland" and have heart attacks at the prices. Finding a place that sells swim goggles won't be necessary. Ditto finding that one last souvenir, which means wanting to buy every single thing in the souvenir shop.

No one will have the top of their ice cream cone plop off onto the seat of the rental car, necessitating a complete turn around on an 8 lane highway to get more ice cream.

Nobody will refuse to go and see the St. Louis Arch or the Largest Ball of String in the World because they are playing Barbies. No, we will go and see that string and we will like it.

No gum in the hair, skinned knees, sharp elbow in my side, no heavy lump to be carried up to the hotel room at the end of a long day.

You know what? It just might not be as much fun.

The Unbearable Lightness of Bad Reviews

Into every life and Amazon account, some bad reviews will come along. Not every reader will like or even get the point of what you're doing. It's a very difficult and humbling thing to read criticism, especially when you have a little niggling voice in the back of your skull that says, "They could be right, you know."

From my point of view, a thoughtful bad review is a blessing. It's the gift of a different perspective from a person who won't tell you that your creation is amazing, wonderful, beautiful...


Those superlatives are nice to hear, but where do they get you in your journey as an artist? 


Erich Kastner, the author of Lottie and Lisa (later that book became famous under the name of The Parent Trap)  wrote, "Develop a good, thick skin!"* 

If only she could have stayed this age forever!

Those authors and artists should listen to Kastner's advice. And he was a good authority; he lived in Dresden during WWI and Berlin during WWII.


It's very hard to do. After all, a book or a painting is a piece of someone, a part of their soul that they sawed off over a period of time and offered up for sacrifice. 


I have found that my own thick skin is like Mithril armor. It helps me negotiate the lances and spears of bad reviews. And when I don't allow something to hurt me, it really helps me fly outside of my skin and see my books from inside another head. Now THAT is an amazing trip.

Some of my best writing advice has come from reviewers who took the time to say what they didn't like. Let's face it; it's easy to say, "Oh, this book was wonderful!" To write instead, "I didn't enjoy the story, and here is exactly why...." is a much more involved, difficult thing. 


The battle against a bad review is the act of hacking off a Hydra's head; the monster grows two in its place. If we, as authors, can see that a thoughtfully written, bad review is a thing of wonder and a true gift, then we can tame the monster and let it live in the shed outside. 

Who's a nice monster then?

My Hydra likes to eat present participles, -Ly adverbs, and the word "then."
















 *This advice came from his book, The Flying Classroom. If you never read it, you absolutely must. And have Kleenex at hand.