In my first blog entry, I talked about things that frighten me. I didn't realize at that time that a bad review would frighten me, too - especially because I was under the false impression I was impervious to the slings and arrows of criticism. Why did I think that? Maybe because I've got a great, big ego. But as any Freshman psych student will tell you, a big ego is a shell around a fragile ego.
So my poor, little ego was faced with the horror of a bad Amazon review, 5-lines long. Oh, the humanity! I wanted to lash out! I wanted to weild an acerbic wit with Byron-esque abandon!
But mostly I wanted to curl up in a ball and be comforted by a pretty girl.
I was planning to comment on the bad review - but there wasn't anything really wrong with it. The person just didn't like the book.
So, in the end, I decided if I want to do this seriously - act like a recently published author - I'm going to have to accept that some people are going to find my work immature (the stinky doody heads!) and I'm just going to have to put on my big boy pants and handle it with dignity and professionalism. And keep it to myself, because really, who wants to hear me bemoan the "cruelty" of someone who was left flat by my work.
So chin up, Andrew! Soldier on! And don't bother telling anyone about it.
...because, of course, blogging about it doesn't really count...