First and foremost, writing is a craft that occasionally rises to high art. In other words, "Writing is making." http://ping.fm/8W3k6
First and foremost, writing is a craft that occasionally rises to high art. In other words, "Writing is making." http://ping.fm/8W3k6
So, let's say you're a celebrity: the kind of guy that folks like to interview. And let's say that you're doing an interview that's not going exactly the way you'd like it to. How do you deal with the situation?
Well, you've got one of two choices in front of you:
The Way of Class:
Like Nathan Fillion, you roll with the punches. Pig tails and kilts? Mistaking him for Joss Whedon? Whatever. You go with it. You smile and shake their hand and thank them for their time.
The Way of the Jackass:
Like Billy Bob Thornton, you lose your cool and throw a temper tantrum. You sulk and bitch and moan. You make damn sure the whole world knows just how unimpressed you are that somebody had the audacity to mention that one thing in your past that you were really really good at (so good that you won awards for it), as opposed to what you really wanted to talk about. As a result, you come off looking like a complete and utter jackass.
Class or Jackass?
Let's face it: it's easy to be a Jackass. It comes as naturally as breathing to some people (myself included, alas.) It takes hard work and perseverance to be a true Class act.
So, grasshopper, will you choose the easy path and follow the Way of the Jackass? Or will you practice your forms and strive to learn the Way of Class?
Ho boy. One last word from the Disgruntled Rejected Writer. This one is a doozy.
First, here was Brett's last email to the guy:
And here is Disgruntled Rejected Writer's response:
Ho. Lee. Crap.
After I read this, I had to go out and get some fresh air, lest I was suffocated by the sheer volume of this guy's ego. He has redefined the term Clueless, and taken it to extremes that I never thought possible.
This will also be the last time I mention this Disgruntled Rejected Writer, as I am starting to suspect that he is mentally unwell, and as such should be left well alone. Don't make eye contact. Don't make any sudden moves...
(And should I mysteriously go missing sometime in the near future, start your search by looking up this guy. Seriously. He's starting to creep me out...)
You remember that Disgruntled Rejected Writer who savaged ChiZine? Well, he's still at it. Once again, he has emailed Brett, demanding that he be removed from our "damn newsletter!" Brett politely* explained that he would accomplish his goal much more quickly if he just clicked the unsubscribe link located at end of those offending emails, as opposed to firing off angry, histrionic emails that make him sound like an unprofessional douchebag. In return, our Disgruntled Rejected Writer offered this explanation for his behaviour:
First of all, is there any such thing as a GOOD case of lice?
Second, when I read this, I got mad. I mean really mad. Everybody who submits work to ChiZine puts their heart and soul into it. Every. One. I don't know who this guy thinks he is (or where he gets off) thinking that his work is worth more than the other writers who submit to ChiZine. He is no better (nor is he any worse) than the other six hundred hopefuls.
If you don't want to get your feelings hurt, then don't submit. Anywhere.
Talk about an overreaction to a frickin' form letter rejection. A lot of people get them. And you know what? They take it in stride. It's all part and parcel of being a writer. You submit. You get rejected. You shrug it off and move on, either submitting to another market, or submitting another piece to the same market. Go cry in your beer later with your buddies. Just don't send off angry emails to the folks who rejected you! That's called burning bridges, and it is very very dumb.
And speaking as a fiction editor, I personally wish I had the time to offer specific notes on every submission that comes in. I really do. There's nothing that sucks more than getting a generic rejection. But when you've got hundreds of stories to get through, you just don't have that luxury.
And here's something else that I find a little scary: no matter how BAD the submission is that I receive, on some level, I'm always rooting for the writer. (Except the vampire and zombie stories. And the tales told in the second person. Seriously, give those a rest. Please.)
It's never fun being the bearer of bad news (okay, occasionally it is, but for the most part it's not.) It's much more fun being able to tell a writer they've been accepted. But that's only one out of every 200 emails.
In the meantime, I leave you with the words of Walter Wellesley "Red" Smith:
There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.
We're all sitting in front of those keyboards, slitting our wrists (or the jugular, depending on your preference), and letting our heart and soul bleed out onto the page/screen.
Wear your heart on your sleeve if you must, but for god's sake, slip it under the cuff once a while (at least when you're submitting stories!)
*and by "politely," I mean he tore a strip off him, and deservedly so.
Just recently I installed the Check and Send plug-in for Thunderbird. I can be a wee bit, um...passionate sometimes, so having a little "Are you sure you want to send this message" dialog box come up when I hit send has the potential to save me from having some 'splainin' to do down the road. I've activated Gmail's Undo Send feature for the same reason.
Apparently, I'm not the only guy who really needs this stuff.
Brett received this in reply to the latest ChiZine Publications mailing that went out:
In a word (or two): holy crap!
If it were me, I think a simple "unsubscribe" would have covered it. I'd have saved all the "fucking dickheads", "stupid bullshit e-mails", and "talentless writers" comments for the next time I was out with my friends enjoying a good old bitchfest.
And for the record, two of those aforementioned "talentless writers" were just nominated for a Stoker Award. Which, last I checked, this dude was not.
*Name has been withheld to protect the guilty. (Seriously dude, what were you thinking?!)