Several months ago, in response to some idiotic comments singer Kanye West made—while promoting a “book” (to use the term loosely) he’d co-written, mind you—about the irrelevance of literature and the people who create it (”I am a proud non-reader of books,” “I would never want a book’s autograph,” etc., etc.), I booted up my trusty copy of Photoshop and put together this satirical take on the cover of his epic tome:
Seeking to share my artistic expression of outrage with others who may have been equally offended by Mr. West’s mindless knock on literacy, I emailed my graphic masterpiece to friends, family members, and a host of literary bloggers I admire. At least one blogger that I know of put the image up on her site, and the comments it drew there were uniformly positive. But one of the people who posted a comment was a fellow author, someone I was at the time unfamiliar with, who wrote:
“Love the artist. The author, not so much.”
Ouch. That hurt.
Enough to want to know more. Why the unnecessary dig? Who was this guy and what work of mine had he read that left him so unimpressed?
Of course, one’s first impulse in a case like this is to write the criticism off as uninformed. Something posted not by an intelligent observer, but by a self-published wannabe who’s about as qualified to judge literary talent as a cabana boy. So I Googled my detractor’s name and learned…
…that he was no such thing. Not even close. The man’s a real, bona fide, published author with serious chops. Critically acclaimed, 10-city toured, the whole nine yards.
Damn.
So what now? He’s the real deal and he doesn’t like my writing. In fact, he so dislikes my writing that he can’t post a blog comment about my artistic abilities without throwing in a disparaging word or two about my writing. As kids are so fond of asking today, WTF?
Well, this couldn’t be allowed to stand, of course. Something wasn’t right. If I let this punk get away with this sort of thing, getting on the Internet and offering an unsolicited opinion on how poorly I write—essentially answering a question that nobody even asked—then pretty soon, everybody would be doing it. It only takes one fool to start a riot.
But what to do? How best to call this clown out on his blatant disrespect for my skills and restore order to the universe?
Post a response to his inflammatory comment on my girl’s blog. Of course. End this throw-down right where it started, in front of the very people whose minds he poisoned against me.
No.
Send him an email via his website, drop the narrative equivalent of napalm on his ass?
No.
Attend his next book signing, hand him a copy of his latest, New York Times-lauded novel, and, in a loud voice, ask him to inscribe it with, “To Gar Anthony Haywood, whose masterful writing I falsely besmirched in a momentary fit of brain-lock and jealousy”?
No.
Shut up and learn to live with the fact that a writer can’t respond to every negative word he comes across pertaining to his work?
Yes.
As much fun as it can sometimes be to parry and thrust with one’s critics, especially on the grand stage of the Internet where the exchange can be shared by untold others, it almost never buys you anything but grief. Because:
1) You aren’t likely to change anybody’s mind, no matter how brilliantly you defend yourself.
2) For every critic you silence, ten more will crop up somewhere else. They’re like weeds.
3) All too often, you’ll find yourself engaged in a debate with an idiot who couldn’t be convinced the earth is round if you were both standing on the moon.
and, last but not least,
4) Sometimes, your critics will be right. You aren’t all that.
None of the above means I won’t still publicly object to a criticism of my work that I think is unfounded or out of line, from time to time. I enjoy the back and forth of a lively discussion of my writing too much to ever completely stop engaging with people who don’t care for it. But I’ve learned not to make a habit of the practice. Life is too short and whining about every negative word written about you makes a man look small.
However…
That author who loved my Kanye West artwork but doesn’t care for my prose? I think I’ll send him a link to this blog post.
Just to see if he’d care to take me on in my own house.
Jesus, Gar. Why do you care what some asshole thinks? You’re as bad as that guy on the last post. (Was that the point?)
I gotta agree with Tex on this one, Mr. Heywood.
So what if some yahoo thinks you’re a pile of worm shit? If you let it get to you then your as bad as that Zeltzman guy.
Come on, give us some good quality posts here. I can find this whiny crap anywhere on the web. I want to read some stuff about writing and reading and those funny ass books you used to write.
Whoa, there, Tex. I think you missed the light-hearted, no-offense-taken nature of the post. Ultimately, I don’t care what “some asshole” thinks about my work because expending that kind of emotional energy every time somebody states for the record that I’m not their cup of tea is a total waste of time. That was my whole point. The literary game ain’t Ultimate Fighting; you can’t take every unkind word as a challenge to your manhood. And not everybody who doesn’t care for your writing is going to be an “asshole.” This guy, as it happens, most certainly is not.
The post was intended to be tongue-in-cheek. I guess I missed the mark.
Actually, Luther, if somebody accused me of being a “pile of worm shit,” it would be time for a smackdown. That’s pretty much where I draw the line, being called a pile of worm shit. A “mountain of elk excrement,” or a “dollop of doggy doo,” okay. But a “pile of worm shit,’ man, them’s fightin’ words.
And don’t worry about me getting all soft and whiny on you. As I wrote in my response to Tex, this post was intended to be funny. I wasn’t really offended by the guy. He’s got a right to his opinion and I’m more than happy to give him that right. Unlike “that Zeltserman guy,” I have a sense of humor about my stuff, and more than a dash of humility, so a world in which not everybody likes what I write is okay by me.
All I was trying to say in this post is how sensitive the creative ego can be, and how far we can spin out of control if we don’t act like adults and suppress our instinctive need to defend ourselves against all detractors.
Sheesh.
Your not a very good blogger.
Well, I’m just starting out. Still finding my legs.
Luther, if you want to get critical, the word you were looking for was “you’re.” Let’s ALL keep the standards high.
I love the fu#*ing internet.
And Gar, I actually think you are too good for a blog. You might want to quit while you’re (or “your”) ahead.
Well, Lee, as you well know, the acting gig dried up for me, so…
Lee speaks the truth.
Get out now, Haywood. NOW.
Oh, the ones who don’t heed my warnings….
Don’t listen to that guy. This blog rocks.
Luther Snodgrass can’t spell. So shut up until you’ve learned how to write English. Gar Heywood rocks, love from fellow crime writer (well, mostly just criminal these days…) Markramsden.co.uk
hear Martin Amis Jihad Rap on
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6PfB5QxUZyo
Gar
Are you sure you understood the ““Love the artist. The author, not so much” comment?
It’s got vague referrerents in that it isn’t clear if you’re the artist, or Kanye is, or if you’re the artists or Kanye is . . .
Oh, yeah, you’ve got comment spam from Luther; he’s just hijacking your blog traffic to go to an affiliate site and collect his pennies.
Glad to hear I rock, Mark, but please spell my name right: It’s “Haywood” with a “A,” not “Heywood” with an “E.”
Lisa:
You aren’t the first to bring this question to my attention. Maybe I did misread the comment.
Guess this is just another example of how thin-skinned we creative types can be, huh? Seeing insult where none was intended?
You know, as long as you can avoid pulling an Anne Rice, or Laurell K. Hamilton you’re probably OK. But yeah, you want to avoid the author’s big mistake because it’s never good to make a fool of yourself, and besides, “the pig like’s it”.
I kinda like the approach that Sandra Bullock took wrt to a film that was harshed.
There’s also the generic advice of never post/comment/email when you’re pissed. I’ve walked away from my screen more than once, and taken a long walk, or even written and not posted until I’ve waited 24 hours.
‘Cause it’s not like I have a temper [cough] at all, or anything . . .