LOL. Receiving feedback as a writer:
When you get an email from a reader.
After reading the email, you find out they didn't like your work.
You read the email several times and ponder why they feel this way. What did you do wrong?
Minutes of denial pass before you realize the email still says they didn't like it. The letters refuse to reword themselves.
Your first reaction is to reply, give them a taste of their own medicine. Dear Evil Doer, Just an FYI...
Realizing that is a terrible idea, you instead spend a few minutes talking to the person as if they were there.
Finally, you realize you're being crazy. Normal people don't talk to themselves. Your anger begins to morph. You're not sure what is coming next.
The pity party has arrived. A moment of silence before the inevitable. Somewhere in the background, Against All Odds by Phil Collins is playing.
One tear turns to an ugly cry session. Why don't they love me? I'm sorry I use too many commas and didn't know Fabio wasn't a name used in 18th century Rome. I'm sorry you thought a vampire sleeping with a mermaid was unrealistic yet overrated. How is that even possible! I love mermaids! Everyone loves mermaids!
I thought you loved me. Why does this hurt so much? This Ben and Jerry's is the only thing keeping me alive.
A moment comes when you stop crying. You take a deep breath and then...
The reason you wanted to write in the first place is lost. Your confidence shattered. You should have never stopped waiting tables, the tips didn't come with terrible reviews. For the next ten minutes, you are under the impression you will never write again.
After breaking your favorite Hello Kitty paperweight, the limited edition one with the bejeweled eyes that doubles as a stapler. An eerie calm washes over you--the calm you perfected in high school when you wanted to punch Sally Jones in the face for declaring to the room that your outfit reminded her of a librarian.
Suddenly, the computer chimes. You have a new email.
It could be another attack. You prepare yourself with a few cleansing breaths.
Even though you know it could be another bad review. You can't help, but read the feedback. Your breath fogs up the screen while you scan the message.
They like it? Oh my God, they like it!!!!
Emotional yet again, you pump your fist with a nod. That's right girl--the person I don't know and will never meet. Speak thy truth. I love you girl. I just can't tell you how much...*grabs for a tissue*
Overjoyed, and with a slightly scary perma-smile, you bask in the glory of the one sentence review.
The lone smile that would scare the pants off your roommate if he were here, turns to five minutes of fawning over yourself. You're amazing. Did you know that? You're just a friggin rock star. You should get highlights and maybe a side of fries to go with that entree of awesome.
The moment comes when you realize your ego is starting to leak out the windows. You reel it back in and settle for a small mmph with your arm, a quiet yes from your lips.
Refueled from the fresh in your mind review, you smile sweetly with a flick of your lashes. You are writer and the people have spoken. They still love you.
Now where was I? Oh yes, chapter 2. Fabio,,,,,,,the merman pressed his lips to the vampire's chest,,,,,,a gutteral moan sounding from his fanged lover,,,,,,,,
ROFL XOXO NIGHTTEMPEST