![[Logo]](/images/101ReasonsLogo.png "101 Reasons to Stop Writing")
101 Reasons has reached some unexpected point of critical mass: where the number of readers continues to climb, yet the number of comments has decreased. Could it be I’m getting to you, and subconsciously you’re on your way to stopping writing? Or am I just not pissing you off anymore?
These posts generated a ripple of interest during March:
And I shouldn’t exclude Interlude: An Open Thread, although I asked for comments on that one. My thanks to everyone who left their thoughts. Soon I’ll post a more detailed response to the questions raised in that thread.
(See January/February Highlights.)
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“Could it be I’m getting to you, and subconsciously you’re on your way to stopping writing?”
We’re all just living one day at a time until there’s a cure.
Your problem is that nobody who really needs your advice is likely to take away from it the message you want. Anybody who can be talked out of writing by a clever parody of the Despair.com marketing copy is probably one of the exceedingly rare individuals who ought to be encouraged to keep writing. They’ll be better than anybody else at supplying agents and editors- who really ought to stop working, you know- with the reasons they need to quit.
Do you know who buys all that Despair.com gear? The same assholes who buy all the motivational crap it parodies. The parallel ought to be obvious.
You should think seriously about selling advertisements to publishing scammers. Nothing burns out an aspiring writer faster than getting owned by a cheap con-artist with a $5.00 website. You’ll thank me later for this advice.
It’s because you aren’t pissing us off enough. You haven’t said anything that’s made anyone get defensive, or feel inferior, or made them start to see that maybe, just maybe, they ought to quit writing… and so react like a wounded dog.
Get nastier.
Not getting enough comments? What are you, an attention seeking author? Hrumph
Oh, and do keep at it. Just think that people like me stop writing for a few minutes to check your blog.
There’s also “fear of flensing.”
Heather: Get nastier.
That’s exactly what I was getting at in the previous thread, but I always drop anything resembling tact when I post comments on blogs pseudonymously.
There seems to be too much touchyfeeliness on the writing blogs these days. With Miss Snark and Nathan encouraging people like me… U-hh. (Perhaps there isn’t as much coming over the transom. I doubt that, though.)
Anyway, Sean, keep it up. (& by that I mean, –Anyway, Sean, don’t listen to me.)
Signed,
M.O.
Charter Member of the 101st Commenting Peanut Gallery
P.S. I heart vicious. Vicious is good.
jh, that’s a brilliant suggestion. But I should go all the way, and start my own scam. I think I’ll launch a POD review site, charging US$100 for a review, $250 to read the book first.
Heather, M.O., I’m gonna make ‘em cry, if I have to put chili under their eyelids.
Much as I love Nathan and the divine Miss S, you really can’t expect someone whose livelihood depends on sifting a trough to tell people to stop filling it.
I refuse to post a comment.
The reason I’ve not posted comments lately is because I’m working on my new young-readers series called The Booby-Sitters Club. The premise is basically that of the Baby-Sitters Club, only get this… it takes place on the Galapagos Islands and in the open seas. The series is about the everyday challenges and joys of a group of blue-footed boobies. The first book in my series is called Chordie Finds a Mate. Subsequent books will feature Chordie and her pals dealing with such issues as (1)jealousy over the scarlet footwear of the less-common red-footed boobies (2) the challenges of tourism by overenthusiastic Darwin fans (3) the lessons of patience and forebearance when one egg refuses to hatch simply because the baby birdie doesn’t want to leave his cozy shell.
Sean, I want you to be my agent. The first three manuscripts are in the mail. Call me!
I check the blog almost every day but mostly don’t post because you and Paul Riddell are so damn good at the snark that I can’t compete. Seriously.