Sure to Bite Me in Mine

One of the great things about posting your writing online is that people will read it.

This is, of course, also a pain in the ass.

When people say nice things about my work–about my ability to write–then the digital broadcast of the stuff is all marshmallow fluff.

Some days I live and die by the kudos, you know, over on AO3.

kudos

Like so.

But when readers don’t like what I’ve written and take the time to make that known, man. Makes me feel like a need a shower, one in which to drown my laptop and save the universe from the crap tentacles of my pen.

Ultimately though, I have a co-dependent relationship with my readers: I need you. Badly. And I hope, once and a while, you might need me, if only for 2500 words or so.

Most my readers, y’all, I’ll never meet; most of you live only, thus, in my imagination. Once my stuff goes up, gets out of my hands and onto someone else’s server, the reader has the upper hand; any status to which I might have pretended as a creator is huff poof boom.

I shouldn’t need anybody’s approval in order to value what I write.

Ok. That’s what I’m supposed to say, anyway. Total bullshit.

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