I was in the car with both of my babies (Princess is ten, Faerie is just-turned-seven, for those unfamiliar) and the subject of Pluto came up. Pluto the suddenly-not-a-planet, not Pluto-Goofy’s-dog. I mentioned how it’s not a planet anymore, and Princess said that it’s a dwarf planet, and I said how disappointing that was because I’d always liked Pluto and was sad when it was demoted.

And then Faerie pipes up, in this thoughtful little voice, “Maybe they could find another planet for all the dwarfs to live on, and then Pluto can be a regular planet again.”

I am not making that up.

I told you, so cute it HURTS.

(It reminded me of when I was eight and being tested for the Gifted program at my school, and they asked me to define the word “dilatory,” and I figured, well, a dormitory is a place where they keep people, so maybe a dilatory is a place where they keep pickles? [That's not correct, btw; dilatory basically means "slowpoke."]) So according to my Faerie, a dwarf planet is a place where dwarves live. I almost died from the adorable.

So, beyond the cute…

I’ve written three blog posts, about the whole writer/reader/reviews etc. thing, and not posted them, because frankly I don’t have the stomach for whatever misinterpretations and controversy would erupt from them. I do have something more to say about that whole thing, though, so I’ll try to get that up this week.

In the meantime, I have my schedule for the SFX Weekender, which is this weekend, Feb 3-5. It is:

Sat 2/4:

Panel: What is Urban Fantasy? 11 am
Signing: 12 noon
Panel: Ready! Steady! Flash! 1 pm

The Ready Steady Flash panel is frankly terrifying, since I’ll be given a topic and then five minutes to write a story about it, and given my over-reliance on the word “fuck” in my first drafts…well, let’s just say I’m a bit nervous. But, if any of you are going to be at the Weekender, please, please come introduce yourselves! I literally only know one person who’ll be there, the very awesome Suzanne McLeod, so I anticipate a weekend spent almost entirely alone, working in my little room (which online reviews assure me will be filthy and stink of urine, though I’m trying to be optimistic). I’m not even really allowed to drink because of this stupid fucking ulcer I still have, so that pretty much kills any thoughts of fun for me. (Seriously? I’ve had maybe three Cokes since I had my surgery. I’m not supposed to have caffeine or alcohol. You cannot imagine how much this blows. But, you know, I’m not really ready to die yet.)

I am considering venturing into the town of Prestatyn for a proper butcher etc. on the Saturday, though, and maybe even making a nice come-one-come-all meal on Saturday night like I did at Dragon-con a few years back. Hey, Brian Blessed follows me on Twitter now, maybe he’ll come and we can all listen to him recite Shakespeare. Who knows? It’s North Wales in February, baby! WILD TIMES.

I have just painted my nails a dark teal for the occasion. Not sure I’ll keep it.

Oh, and here’s the cover for CHASING MAGIC:

Not too long ago I was involved in a discussion on an internet forum where I am a long-time member, in which I expressed an opinion about the writing process, basically. And someone responded to me to say, basically, that I obviously expected everyone to give my opinions more weight because of my publishing record, and that it seemed to this person that I expected everyone to listen to me not because I was right but because I thought being published meant I knew better than everyone else; this person felt that I was acting like my opinions were facts and relying on my credentials to make others think so too.

Now. For the record, I know some of you may have seen that discussion and I want to make it very, very clear that the person who said that is entitled to his/her opinions and feelings and that I am absolutely NOT trying to “bring the discussion here,” or berate or belittle them in any way. I’m not. Not one bit.

My reason for mentioning it here is because it so perfectly illustrates the point I want to make today and the discussion I want to have, which is that once you are published you are no longer “a reader;” not because you’ve stopped reading (hopefully), but because other people see you differently. Readers see you differently. Maybe not all of them, no; I certainly can’t speak for every reader in the world (or any of them, for that matter; they can speak for themselves, and who am I to decide I’m their champion or something?). But for many of them…you have become “an author.” A different sort of animal.

I don’t base this statement just on that one experience. I’ve seen not just evidence of this but people actively stating it for years. I’ve seen writers accused repeatedly, in all sorts of venues, of thinking their opinions should carry more weight or that they’re more important or whatever else, when they speak up in reader forums.

Now, while I can say with certainty that I’ve never expected any reader to give a flying goddamn about my opinion, and I’m willing to bet most authors don’t expect it either (although see next PP), I also don’t think I’m in any position to tell them they’re wrong for feeling that way. How do I know that I didn’t suddenly start coming across like I expected that? I don’t. And it doesn’t matter. What matters is that at least some readers feel that way; at least some of them feel frankly bullied whenever authors enter the conversation or express their point of view. What matters is that a lot of them don’t give a shit about our point of view (and why should they?). And what matters is that they are absolutely perfectly entitled to feel that way.

And to be fair, what matters is that I’ve seen more than one author act like that is indeed the case and readers should all listen and pay attention and care and see things from their POV. Well, gee, we saw it five times in the past ten days, didn’t we? What are these “What do you know, you non-constructive-review-giving-peon?” internet scandales if not authors expecting readers to care about them or what they think above what the reader cares about or thinks? Every time an author pulls the oh-so-irritating “You need to remember that’s someone’s heart and soul/baby you’re reviewing and act accordingly” whine out of their entitled asses, that author is telling readers that readers are obligated to care about them; frankly, they’re telling readers that the writers’ feelings are more important than the readers’, IMO.

(Sadly, I can’t even just say these authors tend to be the same types of amateurs who make their sisters leave them glowing reviews online, because we’ve seen some major-house authors pull this shit, which is so intensely depressing I can’t stand it. Sigh. Every time an author has a tantrum, Satan shoots a puppy. Or something like that. Please, authors, won’t you think of the puppies?!)

Anyway. The point is, I honestly don’t believe my thoughts or the way I express myself has changed since I became published. I certainly don’t think being a low-midlister at best who writes books that have inspired hate mail for their subject matter means I have any sort of special entitlement to be listened to or heard or that it makes my opinion so much more worthy of attention than anyone else’s. But I can definitely see how just the fact that I have been published means readers don’t really want me around, and it makes sense to me. Why? Because readers want readerspace. Readers want to talk to other readers who share their outlook.

And to be frank, I don’t share that outlook anymore, not entirely, no matter how much I want to or try. Neither do you, Published Person. This is why I’m no longer A Reader. Even when I read.

See, for one thing, I’m aware of how publishing works, and more than that, my opinions on matters like ebook pricing and Amazon and whatever else are by necessity colored by the fact that I make a living from that industry. That doesn’t mean I automatically advocate high ebook prices or something (though it does mean I understand that printing costs saved by ebooks are eaten up in part by digital storage/transfer/etc costs), but it does mean that it’s harder for me to be objective when there are discussions about industry practice. Just as there are unpublished authors who complain about things that make perfect sense to me (like rejections without explanation), there are readers who dislike things that make perfect sense to me. Does that mean I think readers are stupid? Of course not. Does it mean I don’t think they have a right to their opinions? Of course not.

It just means our outlooks on some issues are different. That’s the way it is.

I also don’t read like I used to; I don’t read like a reader, not the way I did before I started writing. This, I believe, is a change that started the first time I picked up a book not as a fun way to spend my time, but as a guide to How It’s Done. (And note: NONE of the points I’m about to make should be taken to imply that I don’t think readers read critically or know good stories or writing or whatever else. I’m explaining how my personal process changed and making a generalization from that–and from the fact that every writer I’ve discussed it with has mentioned it, and it’s a common topic on writing forums–that most writers’ processes change; it’s not meant in any way to imply that readers don’t know good writing or whatever.)

It’s a lot harder for me to read these days. I don’t look at writing the way I did; it’s harder to get caught up in a story because I’m seeing technical faults, I’m seeing how I would have done or phrased it differently (that’s a big huge one). I rewrite sentences in my head. I’m more impressed by great sentences and far more annoyed by bad ones, and mediocre writing can and will ruin a book for me in a way it wouldn’t have ten years ago. Actually, I can’t even list all the ways that writing with an eye to publication changed my reading; there are so many of them. And while I believe that we all want the same thing–great books, easily available–I also believe that in some ways (however small) our outlooks are fundamentally different.

Not to mention that writing and reading are such deeply personal processes anyway. In what way does one’s view of books change when one is writing with an eye toward publication? Does it change again when one is published, and how? Of course every reader’s opinion is colored by their own personal viewpoints; that’s why reviews are valuable. But are the changes that happen when one starts writing for publication really beneficial to readers? (Does it matter?)

So what does this mean, in terms of my relationships as a reader to other readers? Does it make my opinion any more or less valuable (and again, does it matter)? Could I even write an effective review because of my different viewpoint (leaving out for the moment the obvious fact that I have a right to my opinion too blah blah blah, that’s not the point)?

And do readers care what I think?

As I said above, I think there are definitely readers out there who want reader-only spaces. I’ve seen countless complaints about how when readers find a good place to hang out authors start showing up, and it’s an intrusion, like how even the coolest parent is an intrusion at a teen-only event. Authors showing up in reader spaces make readers uncomfortable. We don’t belong there, at least, that’s what I’ve seen many readers say and what I personally feel to a large extent. The simple fact that we are writers colors the way readers see us and perhaps the way we express ourselves; maybe not all of us, but some of us. We can’t control entirely how others see us, frankly. We can be the most pro-reader writers in the world but we’re still writers, and there very well may be readers there who see that and just think “get the fuck off my blog, dude, I didn’t write this post for you.” And they have every right to think that.

I can only think how I would feel if I was on a forum dedicated to, say, shoes. And a bunch of shoe makers kept showing up and joining in. Yeah, in some ways they’d be welcome, but I can also see myself thinking at least part of the time that my conversation wasn’t meant for them, it wasn’t written for them, it was my attempt to relate to and discuss subjects with other consumers, not manufacturers. And I can only imagine this must be how some readers view writers who turn up on reader blogs and in reader forums.

I wonder too if this changes before or after someone is published. How do readers see unpublished vs. published writers, if there is a difference? Is the mere fact of a writer showing up seen as an indicator that they think their opinion is more important; do they seem like they’re trying to dominate the conversation? Readers, how do you really feel when writers join the discussion–does it make a difference what kind of discussion it is?

And since we started all of this by talking about how writers need to back off and quit trying to tell readers how to review, how to look at their work, how to relate to it, how to relate to them personally, or whatever else…how do *you* see reviews written by authors? Are they more or less trustworthy? Again, does it make a difference if it’s an aspiring author or a published one, and is there a level of publishing where that changes (like, do you see someone who just sold a novel to Books of Love Startup Ehouse in the same way as someone who just sold their book to Penguin)? Do you see them as a writer or reader or both? How does that change the way you see them, or does it?

First, a couple of things I forgot or didn’t get to say yesterday. First, authors? Don’t review your own books, either on Amazon or Goodreads or anywhere else. Don’t rate them on Goodreads, even if your “review” says something like, “Well, I wrote it so obviously I think it’s good!” Like that’s funny or charming or something (hint: it’s not).

I was going to say that reviewing/rating your own books under your own name just makes you look like a tool, rather than being actually sleazy, but then I realized that your rating shows up as part of the book’s overall rating; I can think of a couple of books (all by the same author, what a shock) who have pretty decent overall ratings on Goodreads, but then when you look at them you realize that’s only because the author and his/her (not giving you clues as to who it is) “agent” and/or editor have all given the book five stars, whereas the two readers who rated/reviewed it gave it two or three. So, sorry, reviewing/rating your books under your own name is sleazy. Having your agent or editor review/rate them is also sleazy, and honestly, I’m not aware of any editors with major houses or the big epubs who do so (there could be some, but I’m not aware of them).

I do have my own books on my Goodreads and LibraryThing “shelves.” I didn’t intend to do so, but both sites said specifically that I should. So I do. I’m not entirely comfortable with it, but it does seem to be standard and expected. I rarely visit Goodreads, to be honest (more on that in a bit) and as I’ve said before, I *never* visit/read posts in the “Terrible Fever” Goodreads group or the Downside Shelfari group. Those are reader spaces, for you guys to discuss the books; they’re not for me and I actually think it would be creepy for me to lurk over them watching you all. And might make you feel uncomfortable or inhibited. So I stay away. I believe that’s the right thing to do.

I don’t think I have to say that reviewing your own books under a sockpuppet account makes you scum just like pressuring/begging your friends and family to do so does. Anytime you’re lying to readers, anytime you’re attempting to jerryrig your reviews or rankings, you’re doing something unethical. And, you’ll probably be caught, and that will be bad. Really bad.

Ask yourself this, before you post something anywhere: Would I say this under my real name? If the answer is no, it’s probably not a good idea to say it.

Also? It’s totally scuzzy–I think I mentioned this yesterday–to send your family/friends/readers to rebut or comment on negative reviews.

My family and friends are expressly forbidden, and have been for years, from ever reviewing or commenting on my work in any way, anywhere online. Period.

Oh, and. Okay. Lots of us writers use pseudonyms online. I don’t mean a pseudonym like the name we write under, but like to participate in discussions elsewhere. There are a few places I hang out online where I don’t use my name; I don’t keep my identity a big secret there, but those are places where I just want to be another reader/fan/whatever, so I use a different name and don’t generally tell people who I am (although I do if asked; I’m not a spy or anything, just a writer who wants to be one of the gang). There’s nothing in the world wrong with this.

What *is* wrong, and I don’t care how big a name you are or think you are, is when you use that pseudonym to push your own books. Guys, I’ve actually refrained from recommending my books to people just because I was in my “secret identity,” and wanted to avoid even the faintest appearance of sockpuppetry (full disclosure: I did once mention my book, but it was in response to someone asking for a specific recommendation and I genuinely, objectively thought that based on her criteria she’d like it. And it was one of a half-dozen or so titles I gave her. I still felt weird about it, though, and never did it again). So it drives me nuts when I see someone hiding behind a pseudonym (which at that point really kinda becomes nothing more than a sockpuppet) constantly listing their own books as “must-reads” or whatever. Stop it. You’re not fooling anyone; do you think we don’t notice that you’re always recommending that one particular writer? ALWAYS? Do you think we don’t notice that when you tell us about your career it happens to follow the exact same trajectory as that author you’re always telling us is Teh Most Awesomest? Do you think we’re stupid and you’re just so much cleverer than we are? Because we’re not, and you’re not. Seriously, when you do that so often you don’t even look sleazy, you just look foolish and crazy egotistical.

Now that that’s out of the way…let’s get back to reviews and readers and stuff.

Okay, here’s the thing. When I was reading the long discussion thread at Goodreads over one of the latest dust-ups, I saw a comment from a reader who said that she only ever reviewed books she likes (I’m using this as an example but I’ve seen this exact discussion several times before; it was even mentioned in comments to my previous post).

Another reader replied to say that was scummy and wrong of her, that she was doing people a disservice, and that obviously her reviews weren’t trustworthy.

Huh?

Now, given that this is a reader-reader issue maybe I shouldn’t even be commenting on it. But at the same time I believe every reader has the right to say whatever they want and review however they like. And I’m sorry, but since when is it anyone’s place to tell the reviewer who only wants to review books she liked that it’s wrong of her to do so? She’s entitled to review however she wants. She’s entitled to decide that books she disliked aren’t worth reviewing.

I could see the point about the reliability of her reviews had she said she gives everything a good review even if she hated it or didn’t read it or didn’t finish it. That’s lying and it’s dishonorable (*cough*HarrietKlausner*Cough*), and it means that no, your reviews are not really reliable. (More on this below.) But who are any of us to tell Reader A that she MUST review books she didn’t like if she doesn’t want to be seen as somehow worthy of mistrust? No, sorry. If you don’t want to read a site which only talks about books it likes and ignores those it didn’t, that’s fine, but it’s in no way wrong for anyone to decide they’d rather spend their time reviewing and talking about books they liked. Who are you to force her to write anything, much less reviews for books she disliked? Who are you to tell her what she is and is not allowed to discuss on her own damn blog, or in her own damn Goodreads account? Who are you to give her shit for the way she relates to books?

Personally, I only rate books I liked on Goodreads, and I’ll only mention a book here if I like it. Not out of fear or hypocrisy, but because I like to recommend things to my readers. Tastes are subjective; I think it’s a lot easier for me to say “This book is kind of like mine, so if you like mine you might very well like it,” rather than “This is nothing like mine so you won’t,” because how the hell do I know what else my readers might like? I like my Goodreads account to be a list of books I enjoy and/or find useful (in the case of nonfiction), so if I’m asked for a recommendation I can go there and see a list of books worthy of that (I don’t keep many books on my list there, but that’s because of time restrictions). That’s my choice and my right, just as it is the right of Laura Reader to decide that she only wants to spend her valuable time writing about books which gave her pleasure rather than books she found boring, stupid, infuriating, or insipid.

There are reviewers who say things like “Overall I didn’t like this, but it had these good points,” or whatever else because they want to find the positive in everything, and that’s fine too. People are entitled to write reviews with an eye toward being positive if they want, too; there are many people out there who think there’s too much negativity, or that it’s not their place to be too negative, and they’re entitled to that; you may not like it and you may decide not to pay attention to their reviews, but again, it’s not fair to attack or berate them for doing so.

Personally, while I’ll happily read and trust a site that only reviews books it likes, I won’t read and trust a site that only ever gives positive reviews despite what they thought of the book. Again, if that’s the kind of site you want to run that’s your choice and no one can or should tell you it’s wrong, but I definitely think that if that’s your editorial decision you should make that clear; don’t pretend to readers that you’re objective and honest when you’re deliberately misleading them about the quality of certain books. If you’re playing the “Let’s pass this around to every reviewer until we can find one who doesn’t puke” game, you’re not being honest with your readership. (I think you should warn them, but then I also think they’re smart enough to figure it out on their own pretty damn fast.)

And speaking as an author on this point, it means your review is “worthless” when it comes to blurbs or whatever; sorry, but if your site loves every shitty book it comes across, I’m not going to be that thrilled that it loved mine and I’m not going to quote you on my website because any fool can see it’s a “Send us anything and we’ll give it a good review” type of site. And, when I see quotes from you on the websites of other writers, I’m probably going to assume those writers haven’t been around for long, haven’t gotten many reviews at all, or–more damningly–haven’t gotten any positive ones. (And for those writers getting upset now and wondering how you’re supposed to get reviews from sites people respect, or saying your publisher Love’s Beautiful Dream sent your book to Good Reviews R Us and nowhere else so what are you supposed to do? Publishing with a house people respect is generally the first step. Stop handing your work to every fly-by-night amateur with no experience and some publishing software and you’ll find legit sites will be more likely to review you. Sorry to be harsh, but it’s true.)

This also goes if your review site is littered with typos or all of your reviews sound like those fake 5-star Amazon reviews written by the author’s best friend: “You won’t be able to put it down!….You’ll be so caught up in the beautiful story, the author did such a good job of making you feel like you’re right in the story with the characters……I can’t wait for more buy this author. I really recommend this story, it kept me guessing and on the edge of my seat with its excellent plot and great characters and story…..definitaly by this story you won’t regret it!!!” (I don’t know what the connection is between sockpuppets and pseudo-ellipsis abuse, but it’s there.)

Yes, I’m aware that as a writer my opinion of review sites doesn’t matter (beyond whether or not I’d quote you on my site). Reviews are not for me and your site is not for me. I could say, “But I’m a reader, too,” but let’s face it. We all know that’s bullshit, isn’t it? Not that I read–I read as much as I can, I love to read and always have–but that I can in any way present myself to others as one of you, just a reader reading books here, ho de do, don’t mind us readers. I can’t do that. I can’t do that because I’m no longer able to fully and completely put myself in the “not a writer but a reader” mindset, and because you won’t accept me as “not a writer but a reader” anyway.

And that’s what I’ll discuss tomorrow.

I’ve been thinking about this post for about a week now, and still don’t know what exactly I’m going to say. I’m just trying to make sense of some things, basically. So forgive me if this is a tad rambly.

The thing is, I’ve been involved in the online writing/reading community since 2005 now. And in that time things have gotten–in my view, at least–more and more antagonistic and upsetting. I wonder why. This post–this series of posts planned for this week–is my attempt to figure it out, I guess. To express my thoughts and see what yours are, and perhaps to offer a potential solution. And in order to do that I’m going to be very honest, and perhaps harsh in some places, but I’m trying to express my full thought process here. So we’ll see how it goes.

In the past nine days or so the internet–at least the writer/reader part of it–seems to have gone kablooey. Specifically, the writer part of it, in that we’ve had a rash of writers deciding it’s their place to tell readers A) How to review books; B) What is and is not okay to say or think; C) Why their opinion is totally wrong; and D) whatever other ridiculous shit they come up with.

I’m aware of five separate incidents, the latest being a self-published author who, in response to a reasoned but negative review, took it upon himself to leave 40 comments–yes, forty–on the blog quoting the fawning letters he’d received about the book from family and friends. And then many more comments insisting that what he did was totally professional and reasonable and why is the reviewer in question so full of hate, yo? And that’s nothing compared to the others, the writers ranting on their blogs and leaving nasty or argumentative comments on Goodreads and blah blah blah.

Guys…cut it out. Just, seriously, cut it out.

Readers have the right to say whatever the fuck they want about a book. Period. They have that right. If they hate the book because the MC says the word “delicious” and the reader believes it’s the Devil’s word and only evil people use it, they can shout from the rooftops “This book is shit and don’t read it” if they want. If they want to write a review entirely about how much they hate the cover, they can if they want. If they want to make their review all about how their dog Foot Foot especially loved to pee on that particular book, they can.

Why?

Because, and I’ve said this before, reviews are for readers. Because they purchased the book (or it was sent to them specifically hoping they would express an opinion) and so can say whatever they want about it. If you buy a shirt that falls apart in the wash, do you keep your mouth shut about it because you don’t want to hurt the manufacturer’s feelings?

Authors, reviews are not for you. They are not for you. Authors, reviews are not for you.

This is why I get so annoyed when I see authors banging on about “constructive” reviews. Constructive how? What are you going to do, ask your publisher to pull the book so you can go back and rewrite it to suit Doris in New York who thought the MC was an idiot? Or because Amy in California didn’t understand the solution to the mystery? (Note: I pulled those names out of my ass; they do not refer to or allude to any actual readers or reviews.) Really? A review is one person’s opinion. One person. One. What exactly do you hope to learn from that one opinion that will make such a huge difference? What do you think you’ll learn from any review, except what that particular person thinks about the book? Reviews are not critiques and they are not written for you, and reviews are completely subjective.

And dude, if you think it’s possible to write a book everyone will love, I question your understanding of human nature and thus your ability to write a decent character. I have to be honest, when I see a writer talking about “constructive” reviews I generally assume that writer is a beginner and either hasn’t been published for long or has been published with micropresses.

That’s the same way I feel about authors who attempt to game Amazon reviews. Well, no, actually it isn’t. I think authors who read their reviews looking for writing tips are amateurish. I think writers who attempt to game Amazon reviews, by begging family and/or friends to leave them (positive; they claim they want honest reviews but they’re asking family and friends so really, what they want and expect are positive reviews; one of the recent very minor not-really-public kerfuffles I’m aware of was over this very situation) or by asking family/friends to place “Most/Least Helpful” votes in an attempt to move the positive reviews up–which, BTW, is in fact trying to dick around with the system no matter what some people might think…those writers?

Those writers are cheats, plain and simple. They’re sleazeballs. They’re liars. They’re attempting to deceive readers, to trick them into thinking their book has an enthusiastic audience it has not actually earned and a proven level of quality it may not actually have. They’re attempting to trick readers into buying the book based on falsehoods; this is perhaps not quite the same as the PA author who stuck the Grand Central logo onto her book in an attempt to make people think she was legitimately published, but it’s in the same ballpark. I’m sorry, but lying to readers and trying to trick them into buying your book is wrong. It’s sleazy and it’s wrong, and you are unethical and unprofessional for doing it, and you make me angry.

Why do you make me angry? Because when you lie and cheat and deceive, you cast doubt on all of us who do not lie, cheat, and deceive. I’ve heard more than one reader now claim that if a book’s reviews are too positive overall–too high a proportion of 5-star reviews–that reader automatically assumes the reviews are false. In other words, your deception and dishonesty casts me in that same light and makes me look like a big faker. Yes, it’s upsetting that it may cost me book sales, but what’s more upsetting is that I’m guilty by association; I’m an author, so I must be cheating scum who thinks readers are pawns in my Success Game too. I don’t appreciate being guilty by association and I don’t appreciate being penalized because you think lying to people is a great way to promote yourself.

Full disclosure: Yes, not long after I gave BE A SEX-WRITING STRUMPET a new cover for Kindle, I mentioned here on the blog that if anyone who’d read the series or the book wanted to leave a review, positive, negative, or neutral, I’d be grateful. To me that’s a different thing, and here’s why: A) You guys are my readers. And as much as I feel very friendly and warm toward you and would love to help you out in some way if I can, you’re not really my personal friends, at least the majority of you aren’t, and you’re not my family. You have no personal stake in my happiness nor, I’d imagine, do you have any special desire to, and you certainly have zero obligation to. We have a sort of business-esque relationship. I know many of you care about me–I’m still overwhelmed by all the emails etc. I got after Stephen informed you all that I was in the hospital–and I care about you all as well, but it’s not like we know the details of each others’ lives or talk on the phone or whatever else. B) Because we’re not generally personal friends, I don’t know who you are. I don’t know your names or the names on your Amazon accounts; I have no way of checking to see if you personally reviewed me, so I don’t think the pressure is there. In addition, there’s C) which is that even those of you who comment regularly, so I know your names, are only a small percentage of the number of people who actually visit this blog on a daily basis. Less than 10% (ETA: actually, that was a misstatement: it’s less than 1% on average). So how in the world would I follow up with any of you, even if I were the sort of person to do so? Not to mention D) I said specifically it didn’t matter if the review was positive or not and I meant it. And E), which is that I didn’t offer any sort of prizes or incentives or anything else in an attempt to bribe anyone into leaving reviews.

To be honest, I wasn’t entirely comfortable with asking even given all of that, and I’m still not. But I’d been given so many positive comments from you all, and from people who don’t read regularly, that I figured it wouldn’t hurt to just mention it. And given that the book only has a dozen reviews at this point, I don’t think many if any of you felt pressured to leave a review. That’s wonderful, because I absolutely didn’t want to make you feel that way. I’m genuinely pleased that you didn’t feel pressured; I would have felt awful if you had.

The reason why I would have felt awful is because, again, you have no obligation to me at all. None. Zero. Zip. NO reader has ANY obligation to an author, whether it be to leave a review or to write a “constructive” one. I put out a product. You are consumers of that product. Since when does that mean you have to kiss my ass? Hey, I like Pop-Tarts and eat them a few times a year; since when does that mean I’m obligated to support Kellogg’s in any way except legally purchasing the Pop-Tarts before I eat them? I wasn’t aware that purchasing and consuming a product meant I was under some sort of fucking thrall in which I’m only allowed to either praise the Pop-Tart (which to be honest isn’t hard, especially the S’mores flavor) or, if I am going to criticize a flavor, offer a specific and detailed analysis as to why, phrased in as inoffensive and gentle a manner as possible so as not to upset the gentle people at Kellogg’s.

And you know what? If I hated Pop-Tarts and decided to go online and tell everyone how they smell like vomit and make me feel sick, that’s fine. Because I’m not under any obligation at all to like Pop-Tarts, or to keep silent about my dislike. Because I bought the product (and I don’t mean to imply here that only those who purchase an item can express an opinion about them, it’s just the easiest and shortest phrase; I could be just as negative about Pop-Tarts had I been given one to try at a friend’s house, although I do admit that I get a tad irked when I see people writing negative reviews for books they stole, but whatever; that’s just my personal feeling and not me claiming people who steal books aren’t allowed to leave reviews) I have completed the business transaction, and I am entitled to whatever reaction I choose.

I wonder often how many of the authors who whine about negative reviews and/or yammer on about how reviews should be “constructive” never have a bad word to say about, frex, a movie they watched and disliked? Do they make sure their review is “constructive” so the director and stars can learn something from it–do they actually assume the director and stars are reading their review? When they’re given bad food in a restaurant, are they careful to offer three positive comments for every negative one they make? (“The presentation is lovely and it smells wonderful, but I’m afraid the chicken is raw. Perhaps the chef could leave it on the grill for another five minutes in future. The sauce is great, though, and I’m sure it won’t give me salmonella even though it was in contact with the raw meat. Thanks for giving me the chance to try it!”) You know? If they believe readers are somehow obligated to remember the author’s feelings when leaving a review, how much do they do that when they consume products or entertainment they do not enjoy?

And don’t even get me started on the idea that readers should somehow be frightened or intimidated because authors are reading their reviews. Or actually, do, because I’ll move into that with the next post, because this one is getting a bit long.

But we’re not done with this topic. We’re not done talking about reviews, or expressing opinions, or the writer/reader relationship, or whatever else falls under those umbrellas.

I do apologize for not updating for so long; I am fine and feeling great, I’ve just been extremely busy finishing edits on CHASING MAGIC, working on edits of the short Downside story HOME (which will be published on Tor’s Heroes and Heartbreakers website), and working on a new project, in addition to the whole holiday thing.

Which was awesome. I cooked a lot. I made chicken stock from the carcass of our Yule roasted chicken. I made our now-traditional beef bourguingnon for Christmas day. I made a lasagna bolognese from scratch–long-simmered bolognese sauce and bechamel sauce–for New Year’s Day that was so gorgeous I wish I’d taken photos. I made a couple of batches of fudge crinkle cookies; I made Snickerdoodles; I made molasses spice cookies, some with white chocolate glaze and some with orange-flavored white chocolate glaze; I made pumpkin spice cookies with a vanilla-cinnamon frosting.

And we went out, a LOT, to do all of the shopping which had fallen by the wayside because of my recovery and the fact that hubs had to take a lot of unpaid time off work when I was in the hospital.

But it was a lovely holiday overall, a more fun and relaxing one than I’ve had in a while.

Oh! And, I played Dungeons & Dragons for the very first time! See, when I was a kid my big brother was a huge D&D head, but of course he never let me play with him and his friends. And I had the occasional boyfriend who played but generally when I’d go to their games they spent four hours creating characters, at which point I was bored.

But the hubs and I have a dear friend who used to play it with hubs when they were kids and he–the friend–still loves to play (he’s a Dungeon Master, which means, for those unfamiliar, that he “runs” the game), so he and his wife (also a dear friend of course) came over for spanakopita and adventure. He’d even created some characters for us in advance, which was so sweet of him. I was Lola Dragonslut, a warrior with semi-low intelligence but great charisma, and we explored a bunch of tunnels where there was supposed to be treasure. We didn’t finish the game, but we had a blast. Tons of fun; I’m looking forward to playing again.

Also, I got lots of pretty new nail polish for Christmas, so I’m hoping to start the fingernail posts again! This week my nails are peach with sparkles.

And…this morning I had an endoscopy done, a follow-up from the whole surgery thing. I’d warned them about my horrible gag reflex, and they’d promised to sedate me since the whole idea freaked me out. The upshot of all of this was that I don’t remember a thing from “You’ll start to feel drowsy in twenty seconds or so” to “Time to wake up!” But according to the nurse I talked the whole time, although they couldn’t understand a word (she said this with a bit of a giggle, which worries me. Could they really not understand me, or was I saying horribly dirty and rude things?). And according to the “Findings and Actions” sheet I was given, the intubation was “poorly tolerated” and they had to do it a second time, so there’s that gag reflex.

The bad news is the ulcer isn’t completely healed, so it’s back on ulcer meds for Stacia for another ten weeks, and another endoscopy when that ten weeks is over. Which sucks.

But again, the good news is I feel just fine and am back in the saddle. Well, it’s good news for me, and hopefully you think so, too.

There have been quite a few rant-worthy things happening lately, and I may blog about them soon. For the moment suffice to say that readers and reviewers have every right to express their opinions about books without authors responding in comments to tell them how wrong they are. (This also goes back to my posts about how once you’re published you can no longer use the “but I’m a reader, and I’m commenting as a reader” line, but again, something to possibly be blogged about later.)

So for now I’ll just say I hope you all had a wonderful holiday, and I’m hoping 2012 is a great year for all of us!

What Happened When My Intestine Exploded

First, of course, I have to say a huge enormous Thank You!!! to all of you. Your emails and comments, your cards and letters and packages, were just incredible; you have no idea how much they meant to me and how much I appreciated them. Really, thank you so much. I haven’t replied individually yet–I’m still trying to get back on my feet a bit, and I came back to over a thousand emails–but I will. In the meantime, please accept my enormous gratitude. It was and is really incredible to see how many people actually care.

So, what happened? I’ll tell you what happened. This story gets a bit icky, guys, just as a word of warning.

I woke up in the wee hours of the morning on Tuesday, October 26th, with the most incredible pain in my abdomen. It felt–to be rather crude, sorry–like the worst gas ever, moving all around my abdomen, not localized in one place. Just this horrible stabbing pain. It was hard to walk, it hurt so bad. It was hard to lift things, it hurt so bad. It was hard to drive, it hurt so bad. I drove to the pharmacy to buy some sort of gas-relieving medication, and the woman there seemed to think something was terribly wrong with me, I thought from the way I appeared in obvious pain but I was told later that I was so dehydrated I looked like a skeleton.

Anyway. Wednesday I was supposed to drive to the Southwest to look for a new home near Mr. K’s work. But I was still in horrible pain, so I canceled. This worried Mr. K so much that he left work and drove the several hours back here, insisting that I go to the hospital. I didn’t think it was that necessary but I was starting to worry a bit, yeah, so I finally agreed.

We reached the ER (or A&E as they call it here) at Lister Hospital at around 3 pm. They saw me right away. They palpated my abdomen which hurt a ton, even after giving me oral morphine. They put me in a gown and sent me to be X-Rayed–at this point it was probably about 5, given the time to wait for the X-Ray and talking to the docs etc. etc. We waited for the X-Rays to come back and the blood tests (and man, my veins are hard to find anyway, when I’m dehydrated it’s almost impossible, so that was NOT pleasant and would only get worse).

That’s when the fun happened. All of the sudden I was taken into this other room, and greeted by about seven surgeons, who informed me that my X-Ray had shown air under my diaphragm, which indicated a hole in my intestine. An ulcer which had eaten all the way through, to be more exact. Apparently this is very serious and can be fatal thanks to dehydration and peritonitis and such–who knew?–and I’d already delayed longer than I should have, so the surgeons bumped their other surgeries so I could be the very first one in when the OR opened at 7 pm. The head surgeon said, “This is major surgery, so whatever else happens, you are going to be one very sick young lady for the next two weeks at least.” Yay me!

So into the OR I went. I remember being told I’d probably feel a little dizzy, and the next thing I remember is seeing Mr. K. telling me it was all over and I was fine, and then I was in this special intensive post-op care unit. I spent five days there, mostly sleeping and pressing the little button that would give me more morphine. I had a gnarly row of staples down the middle of my stomach and tubes poking out of me everywhere: my nose, my stomach, a catheter (of course), and a bunch of IVs and lines in my neck and hands/wrists. They were also coming to take blood just about every day. LOTS of needle sticks.

I was in the special post-op ward for five days. It was generally nice and quiet, except for the night we had a woman in there moaning constantly and asking the nurses–in the middle of the night, mind–why they wanted to kill her. Oh, and there was the older gentleman who was very angry a lot of the time; when the phone rang he’d become enraged and shout that they shouldn’t answer it, or if they did to “Tell them I’m not here! Tell them I’m still in hospital!” To which the nurses would ask if he knew where he was, that he was in fact still in hospital, and that they had to answer the phone because it was the hospital’s phone.

But anyway. On the fifth day they moved me into another post-surgery ward, where we weren’t monitored quite as closely. Because the ward was full of men I actually got a private room, since I am not a man and rules say a lone woman can’t be put in a ward full of men. That was nice, the private room, but let me clarify something for my American friends, since those I spoke to on the phone were utterly shocked by this (and to be fair, so was I, a bit). I had a private room, yes. I did not have a private bathroom; I used a commode (basically an adult potty seat the nurses would wheel in) or, once I was able to walk, the public bathroom in the hall which all the patients and visitors used. (Yes, very sanitary, I know.) I did not have a TV in my room, or a phone. I was not permitted to plug in my computer or cellphone, so I wasn’t able to use the internet at all or really get any work done–not that I was up to working, but still. Stephen had to charge stuff for me at home and bring it in, and the hospital didn’t want me to keep valuables in my room anyway, so generally he’d bring my laptop and a DVD and we’d watch it until they made him leave. All I did for most of the time was sleep, stare into space, or look at magazines, since I didn’t feel up to getting involved in a book (which should tell you how bad I felt).

So. On Wednesday 2nd November, one week after the initial surgery, I woke up around 2 am and noticed my stomach felt a bit wet. It felt wet because it was wet, with blood.

Not a lot, but enough, and it worried me (obviously) so I called the nurse. She didn’t appear too concerned, since it was kind of watery blood, so she said she’d check on me in a bit and we’d see.

Half an hour later the blood was no longer watery and I was in PAIN. Real awful grinding pain along my incision, especially at the very bottom and the top inch or two. The nurse came back in and called the surgical resident. He looked at it and called another surgeon, whose title I forget but he wasn’t a resident anymore, basically. The left side of my incision was kind of puffy and higher than the right, and it was decided that I had a couple of big hematomas under there and maybe they could clip a staple or two and fix the problem (meanwhile, the surgeon poked a Q-tip around inside the incision, which wasn’t fun).

So the nurse clipped one of the staples near the bottom of the incision, and blood shot like four feet. But the pain there disappeared almost instantly. Yay! Too bad the same did not happen with the top of the incision; she clipped a few staples but no relief, and it still hurt like fuck. So she basically wrapped my stomach in plastic to keep the blood from getting on the sheets etc.–somewhere in there she changed my gown and sheets because of all the blood already there–upped my morphine, and left me to try to rest. It was a pretty scary night, to be honest.

The really fun bit came in the morning when the nurse removed the plastic. We heard–I am dead serious–the “bloorp” sound a drain makes when it’s coming unclogged, and I looked down to see my entire stomach covered in blood. Not just covered: submerged. My stomach was a lake of blood. It was all over the sheets and everything; the bed looked like an abattoir. The surgeons came and informed me that I’d be going back into surgery so they could clean out the hematoma as soon as the OR was ready, and that’s what happened. This time they stitched me up, thankfully, and put on a pressure bandage to prevent further clotting. (They also transfused me with 4 pints of blood. Yes, you read that right. I required 4 pints from all the blood I’d lost in the night and during that second surgery itself. So, you know, donate blood, y’all. It’s important.)

Recovery from that point moved along at a slow but okay pace. The biggest problems were 1) that I was almost out of veins, and they’d start a line and it would blow within a day or so, or once even a couple of hours; and 2) I was supposed to be eating but everything tasted awful and I had very little appetite.

I wanted to come home, and they finally let me on November 8th. I was still in pain from the incision (and they sent me home with paracetemol–Tylenol, basically–and a few codeine tablets. Whoopee, that’s pain relief. Except it isn’t at all. Sheesh) and food still tasted awful but I’d lost my private room and the hospital was starting to drive me crazy. See, being on the ward is LOUD. You’re only separated from numerous other people by curtains. You have no control over your curtains either, so you have no privacy during the day; everyone can see you all the time. At night the other patients snore and talk in their sleep and you have no way to block the sound. Plus the nurses etc. who try to be quiet but you still hear them. It’s hellish, really. Oh, and don’t get me started on their insistence that we “have a wash” which is basically just wiping ourselves down with soaking wet baby wipes–which does NOTHING–or the “shower” in which you sit on the potty seat and they hose you down. It’s like being deloused and again, does not leave you feeling clean in the slightest, plus since it’s November and there are open windows on the ward you end up very cold indeed. But they get very grumpy if you try to refuse.

I still felt lousy at home though, tired and dragged out and depressed as hell, and food tasted awful; it was getting worse and worse. The ulcer medication they had me on (which is Prilosec in the US) gave me stabbing pains in my stomach and made me nauseated. I finally read the leaflet and found that almost all of my awful feelings were side effects of the med, including–surprise!–”taste disorders,” which might explain why even things I liked to eat tasted like damp or rancid cardboard.

So I figured, I’ll call and ask if they can give me something else. But before I could I started throwing up. A lot. So much that Mr. K insisted on taking me back to Lister. That was on Thursday night, 14th November. They switched my medication to Ranitidine (Zantac in the US), after telling me how surprised they were because Omeprazole is so well-tolerated by everyone they don’t even stock other meds in the ER and everyone loves Omeprazole and what is the matter with me. I guess I’m just lucky. I was also lucky in that I got to stay at the hospital until Saturday! Yay, because I wanted more hospital time.

The good thing is, I started reading SHOGUN on the Friday–they showed the miniseries here a few months back, and Mr. K and I watched it (well, he watched it, I half-watched it) so I’d bought him the book, and there I was in the hospital with nothing to read and all of my books still packed away in the US, so I told him to bring me that one. And I’ve gotten pretty involved in it, and am now almost done. So I give SHOGUN a thumbs-up.

Anyway. I had to go back to the hospital again last Monday because I was out of pain meds and because I was having a couple of kind of odd symptoms and we wanted to make sure I wasn’t heading down a bad road with the new medicine. I wasn’t. And I’m slowly getting strong again and feeling up to doing things like sitting up and typing and all of that, which is good because I have a lot of work to do. A LOT. This really couldn’t have happened at a worse time.

Oh, and I had the stitches taken out last week, and that was an awful experience because seriously, the sutures they used were like tennis-racket-string thick, and tied very tightly. Also, they don’t usually use scissors to cut sutures here, they use this little scythe thing, which was simply not working for these; the nurse was sawing away and it hurt and I finally asked if she couldn’t please use scissors. Then some of the stitches were so tight we thought at one point I was going to have to come back when the doctor was there and maybe give me a local and actually cut me to get the stitches out, but luckily between me, Mr. K., and the nurse, we managed to push and pull and manipulate my skin and the stitches enough to cut them all out (at one point Mr. K. actually untied one of the stitches using two pairs of pliers and a needle). So that was pretty sucky, but it feels nice to not have those awful needle-like things poking at me or sticking out through my t-shirt or whatever.

So, this is a very long entry, but I wanted to let you guys know what happened and why I was gone for so long; it wasn’t just the hole in my intestine, it was the hematomas and the adverse reaction to the medicine and the difficulty eating for so long and all of that. I’m down under 100 lbs at this point and even I’m a bit nervous about how thin I am, but luckily food tastes normal again so hopefully I’ll start putting weight on soon.

I’m not sure when I’ll be back full-time, as it were, because I do have a lot of work to catch up on. And I do have a lot of emails to reply to. But I’m trying! And hopefully I’ll be around a little more every day.

And again, I really can’t thank you all enough for your messages. Each and every one of them meant and means so much to me, I really appreciate them and can’t thank you enough.

Just wanted to let you all know what’s been happening since my last update:

I know that Stacia was looking to rejoin the online community this past week, however, since being released from hospital she had been having some problems with her prescribed medication (it she turns out Stacia just happens to be the “1 in a 1,000″ who could have the side-effects associated with it.)

Unfortunately this situation got serious late Thursday night and she had to go back into hospital. However, she is home now, resting and reacting to her new medication well, so hopefully this will be the end of it.

Stacia will be back online later this week if not earlier. She has lots and lots to do, so if you’ve sent her a direct message please be patient as she begins the long process of catching up.

My best to you all and thanks for the well-wishes.

Mr. K.

Stacia’s doctors/surgeons are pleased enough with the progress of her recovery that she has been released from hospital to continue her recuperation at home. It’s early days yet, and she has a long road ahead of her, but it’s a step in the right direction.

At some point I know Stacia will be back online but for now she is resting and taking things easy. Therefore, any urgent questions or messages should continue to be sent to downsidearmy AT gmail.com until further notice or when Stacia returns here.

My best to you all.

Mr K.

This is going to be short, but I wanted to let you all know that Stacia is doing much better. She is still in the hospital, and it looks like she’ll remain there for a little while yet, but she has been moved out of intensive care into an acute-care ward (which is a good sign) and her doctors/surgeons are pleased with her progress.

At some point soon, no doubt, she’ll be back online, but for now rest, rest and more rest are the top requirements for her recovery.

I will update here again soon. Till then, may I just add a heartfelt Thank You to you all for your kind words and thoughts during this situation. They have meant so much and my family and I really appreciate them.

Take Care

Mr. Kane

I’ll post updates when I can. Till then if you need to contact me please do so via the Downside Army address at downsidearmy AT gmail.com.

Thanks.