IF THEIR INTENTIONS ARE EVIL THEY MIGHT DO YOU A MISCHIEF

"I have ample evidence that you are being dogged in London, and amid the millions of this great city it is difficult to discover who these people are or what their object can be.  If their intentions are evil they might do you a mischief, and we should be powerless to prevent it."

Before going on to today's musing, I must first ask you: is that first line not the best pun in the entire Sherlock Holmes Canon? "...you are being dogged..."; you being, of course, Henry Baskerville, of The Hound of the Baskervilles. Makes me happy every time I read it.

Anyway, back to business.

I sent my manuscript for The Genius of the Place out to three very kind people in the last couple of weeks: one has graciously agreed to write a foreword, another has said he is happy to craft a blurb, and the third is brave enough to do a word-for-word proof read. These three people are very nice, very capable and very professional. I've been on pins and needles waiting to hear their verdicts as to the quality of the thing. (Imposter syndrome is having a grand time in my head at the moment.)

The anxiety has me thinking once again about the tyranny of the internet rating and review business. If I'm going to have the guts to publish the book then I've got to get the skin thick enough to deal with what people have to say about it. I dread the entire idea of the star ratings and reviews. Although I've published eleven pieces in different collections at this point and have another pending, Genius will be my first go at a solo book.

I noticed this week on Twitter that several authors I admire (and that I know do stellar work) mentioned the need for a review on Amazon; another at a Zoom offered a free copy of his book if one were willing to provide an Amazon or Good Reads review. The searching for ratings and reviews must be so tiring, and then one has to deal with the ones that actually appear.

Of course writers have always had to deal with critics but the internet ratings and reviews posted from who-knows-where is a different thing. Thoughtful readers will have (I hope, anyway) good intentions and will write carefully and truthfully about what they read. The anonymous star punchers, the simply bewildered, and the army of haters may have very different intentions from the thoughtful readers. They might, as Sherlock Holmes said, "...do you a mischief."

I've watched on Twitter as the delightful David Stuart Davies has dealt tactfully with a small cadre of complainers because the publishing company was slow to ship orders of his updated Bending the Willow. As if the author can do one thing about that?  But the bewildered and the angry have been fussing at him anyway. I wonder if any of them put poor ratings about the book somewhere because the shipping was slow? I hope not.

I had someone write to me about "Whitney's Reflection"; she didn't say she enjoyed the story, but she did say:

"I did get a chance to read your story, and I can see why it's a winner! Short stories seem so hard to me; you have to be so concise. Your language is all so intentional and there's so many atmospheric elements in it." 

I can tell it was not her cup of tea but I appreciate her words anyway. They were fair and considered and kind. Fair, considered and kind is the best kind of response. And yes, the language was all so intentional and I love that she saw that. Her remark helps me have faith in the rest of the work. 

Speaking of intentions, my intention has been, since April 22 of last year, to have The Genius of the Place  off to the publisher on March 31. I expect to be anxiety driven for a long while after. Watson once said:

"Holmes had the impersonal joy of the true artist in his better work, even as he mourned darkly when it fell below the high level to which he aspired."

I have no idea what he means by "impersonal joy." If you need me, I'll be over here mourning darkly.