Good morning, Readers!
I'm over at Black Gate Magazine today, talking about a recent post I saw on my Facebook feed, and how it got me feeling a certain way.
I'm over at Black Gate Magazine today, talking about a recent post I saw on my Facebook feed, and how it got me feeling a certain way.
They’re watching. Always watching. Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay
I hope you’re all well, given how everything is still, well, 2020. I’m writing this rather hesitantly, for many reasons (not least of all because I promised at the end of my last post that I would stop publicly obsessing about InuYahsa, and this is the only other topic I had on my list), but I do feel like this is something worth discussing.
I am an unknown author, I’m sure you’re sick of me saying so, and I bemoan the fact a little too often, if I’m honest with myself. Sorry about that. I would love to be widely read and have my books celebrated, hell, even discussed! I mean, obviously. That is the dream of every writer. Yet, I balk at the idea of becoming famous. I don’t ever want to be famous. My books? Sure! Me? Absolutely not. Fame is terrifying, and the thought of being recognized while I’m going about my business on any given day turns my stomach and cranks my anxiety up to eleven. When I hear stories from others about what their life is like after celebrity, the fear sharply intensifies. When I hear stories about what fandoms have done to creators for perceived miss-steps, I want to burn my entire ambition to the ground and retire to the country to embroider and milk cows.
Okay, I would retire to the country to embroider and milk cows… and ride horses… and open a martial arts school… if my books got big and I ever acquired any kind of wealth. That’s kinda my dream. Not the point!
Note: I’m not talking about revealing bigotry as some writers, apparently not having learnt the lessons in their own damned books, have done recently. I’m talking about concluding a story in a way fans find dislikable, or something equally as benign.
From threats to careers, home invasions, and even death threats, fans can be terrifying.
I am an unknown author, I’m sure you’re sick of me saying so, and I bemoan the fact a little too often, if I’m honest with myself. Sorry about that. I would love to be widely read and have my books celebrated, hell, even discussed! I mean, obviously. That is the dream of every writer. Yet, I balk at the idea of becoming famous. I don’t ever want to be famous. My books? Sure! Me? Absolutely not. Fame is terrifying, and the thought of being recognized while I’m going about my business on any given day turns my stomach and cranks my anxiety up to eleven. When I hear stories from others about what their life is like after celebrity, the fear sharply intensifies. When I hear stories about what fandoms have done to creators for perceived miss-steps, I want to burn my entire ambition to the ground and retire to the country to embroider and milk cows.
Okay, I would retire to the country to embroider and milk cows… and ride horses… and open a martial arts school… if my books got big and I ever acquired any kind of wealth. That’s kinda my dream. Not the point!
Note: I’m not talking about revealing bigotry as some writers, apparently not having learnt the lessons in their own damned books, have done recently. I’m talking about concluding a story in a way fans find dislikable, or something equally as benign.
From threats to careers, home invasions, and even death threats, fans can be terrifying.
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