New Hampshire's Going For The Record!

This winter season we got a lot of snow here in New Hampshire. In fact, we’ve had the most snow in a season since 1875. On March 28th, we got about eight more inches. Unfortunately, they measure snowfall in Concord and they only got about 2.8 inches. That just doesn’t seem right to me. We get dumped on and most of it doesn’t count. Anyway, right now the record is 122 inches, set in the winter of 1873-74. We are currently at 115.2 inches. That puts us into second place. You may not believe this - I don’t believe it myself - but I’m actually kinda wishing for more snow. I want to break that record. Why, you ask?

Because I want bragging rights.

Wouldn’t you? I can just picture myself, eighty years old and sitting by the fire, telling my grandchildren in a gravelly voice, "I remember the winter of ‘07/’08 when we broke the record for the most snow in a season. It was a nightmare, I’m telling you. Your grandad had a broken wrist, leaving me to sno-blow the driveway, which was a couple hundred yards long, shovel the steps, porch and deck, and try to rake the roof with an implement that was longer than a tree. Then, just when his wrist healed, he went and injured his thumb!" At this point, I’d give a good guffaw and slap my knee. Then I’d grow serious again. "That was the year of the bad back, little ones. Most of us New Hampshirites weren’t able to fully straighten up again until August." Big sigh here. "I remember one time we had to clean up from a snowstorm…in the pouring rain!" Of course, the grandkids would ask next, "But why didn’t you just let the rain melt the snow, Grandma?" And I’d smugly reply, "Because, smart aleks, the next day was going to be frigid cold, worse than being in Minnesota, if I remember correctly. That rain wouldn’t have been able to melt all the snow in time and we would have ended up with 8 inches of ice on the driveway. Our little ice rink wouldn’t have melted until July."

Just when the grandkids thought the story was over, there’d be more. I’d lean closer. "You whippersnappers don’t know what it was like. Just leaving the driveway was an adventure. All that built-up snow and ice had created a ramp at the end of the drive, plus the snow banks were so high, you couldn’t see down the road you were trying to turn onto. You just punched the gas and hoped for the best, sailing through the air, wrenching the steering wheel to make the turn, praying there weren’t any cars coming. We were Dukes of Hazarding it that winter."

I’d probably embellish the story a bit, too. It’s one of the privileges of getting old, and of having lived through harsh times. Perhaps I had double pneumonia that year and the kids had the plague, too. I had to sno-blow uphill, both ways. We lost electricity twenty times and our pipes froze. Our roof nearly caved in from all the snow. We could go sledding off the roof. We almost lost our youngest in a snow bank. Actually, we did lose several of our sleds after one particular snowstorm.

Ahhh…Good times.

So why do I want more snow? Like I said earlier, I want bragging rights. Plus, it gives me something to aim for. Everyone needs goals in life. I’m hoping you’ll root for us. Do whatever you need to do to send us snow. Prayers. Snow dances. Whatever it takes. It’s only seven inches. But if you could, could you just have it all sent to Concord? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind, not in the least.

Bad Begets Bad

I’ve often wondered who the faceless people are behind mean-spirited reviews. Take for instance the vote on Sarah Jessica Parker in Maxim magazine. What they did to Sarah and the rest of the women on the list was just plain cruel and completely unnecessary. Were they getting bored with their ‘perfect’ women? Why did they feel the need to share with the rest of the world their anger and spite for anybody or anything that didn’t meet their expectations?

I don’t get it.

Plain and simple, mean-spirited reviews are bad for everybody. When you’re mean, that negativity gets passed along, spreading just as quickly and destructively as the plague. This isn’t rocket science. Bad begets bad. I can understand why people do it, though. It’s easy to be mean. It’s easy to use cruel, snarky words to get your point across. Putting others down can make you feel clever and powerful. If you’ve been on the receiving end of cruelty, it’s tempting to do the same back. Eventually it doesn’t matter who you’re taunting. Everybody’s your target. But being a big meany doesn’t do anybody any good. It just makes people either very (and sometimes homicidally) angry or depressed and afraid. No wonder people don’t want to leave their houses. No wonder kids don’t want to go to school, or adults to work. Even worse, in this internet age of ours, people can be mean and attack you and still remain anonymous. How scary is that?

I can relate to what happened to Sarah. Not on the same level…I don’t have the whole world looking at me. But my experience was crushing all the same. I received my first bad review on Amazon recently. While reading it, I could feel my face flushing as adrenaline rushed through me. It was not a nice review, and I didn’t like reading it in the least. I can only imagine what she felt like hearing about Maxim’s vote.

My publisher warned me about getting my first bad review. To be honest, I didn’t think it would happen. Stupid, I know. And arrogant. It’s not that I think my book is so great, I just never thought it would inspire such ire. But it seems that I am not immune to getting slammed. Dang.

Of course I don’t agree with my negative reviewer’s words (though I completely agree with those who gave the glowing reviews). Still, a part of me started to doubt my work. Was it really that bad? Why didn’t anyone tell me? Are they all just being nice when they say they like my book? Is this like those people on American Idol who say their friends and family tell them they have a great voice, but who really don’t, the poor things? Am I that person?

What have I learned from this experience? Well, a few things. But one big one…when you produce something for the world, expect it, and yourself, to get spit on. Even the greats have gotten bad reviews, and lots of them. Somehow it makes it easier to swallow my own humiliation to know that people I hold in high regard had their battles with mean-spirited people, too. Misery loves company, I guess. Or maybe it’s just knowing that I’m not the only one.

Throughout the day, bad thoughts went through my mind aimed directly at the M.B. and his/her review. I was angry, but worse, I felt helpless. M.B. is in the driver’s seat and there’s nothing I can do, save write this blog, to make things better. I do think M.B. was being a little unfair and this felt more like a personal attack than an attack on my book (this person has written no other reviews, just one on my book). But then I read some reviews on a current and very well-known author that were just as mean and just as negative and just as personal.

So maybe it’s not me, it’s the reviewer! Ha!

I completely agree with freedom of speech…I think M.B. had every right to express his/her opinion about my book, even if it was a negative one. But to do so in such a vitriolic way, that’s what bothers me the most. And to do it while hiding behind a pseudonym seems rather cowardly and suspicious to me. If you want to give your opinion, if you want to stand up and be counted, then show your face, or at least give your name. If you have the right to express what you think, I have the right to know who you are. I’m putting myself out there, now it’s your turn!

At any rate, I just wanted to relate my experience so that other aspiring authors out there won’t feel so alone if (when) this happens to you. Maybe we should form a support group for Authors Suffering From Reviews. Solidarity is a good thing. Through this experience, I have gained a lot of good wisdom and support from my friends and family, and from some wonderful people who barely know me! It has also helped to write about my experience. At first I thought that maybe I shouldn’t. Why tell the world that someone didn’t like my book? I should just ignore the bad review (and I will with the rest of them - because there will be more, I’m sure), but I promised myself when I started writing this blog that I would deal with the good, the bad and the ugly of getting published. Well, this is the ugly. Anyway, maybe I can save others some grief. It’s something to hang onto, anyway.

After all this, I am reminded of Sarah in the Labyrinth who says to the Goblin King, Jareth, "You have no power over me." Perhaps, in the end, that’s what we all need to remember.

Don't Cry Wookie

Have you ever cried wolf? My kids do it all the time. Several times my youngest has come running to me shouting, "M. needs you! Come quick! It’s an emergency!" When he first started doing this, I would leap after him only to find that my middle child simply needed help putting his catapult together, or some other equally non-emergency type of thing. Usually, he just wants an extra hand. It’s not like he’s lost a hand himself. He wants my attention, doesn’t want to make the effort to come get me himself, so he tells his little brother to tell mom that it’s an emergency. This is his variation on the crying wolf theme.

But this particular son doesn’t just cry wolf…he cries Wookie.

The other day my youngest child came running upstairs to tell me that his brother needed me…he was hurt. I was gathering up clothes to bring down to do the laundry and I said, "Just a minute." Sounds callous, but when you have kids, you quickly learn what is serious and what is not. I could hear some complaints coming from the victim but no major screeches signaling serious pain. Since my kids can make a paper cut sound like they’ve just been scalped, I figured he wasn’t too badly hurt this time. So, I wasn’t in a big hurry, but I also wasn’t going too slowly, either. Just in case…

Anyhoo, my youngest runs downstairs to his brother to deliver my message. I’m not far behind him, however, and I arrive in the kitchen to hear him say, "Mom says just a minute." In response, my five-year-old roars, "Not just a minute, NOOOOWWW!" sounding just like a Wookie in distress. That’s what he does when he’s hurt or mad. He howls, and he does it well.

It turns out that he had good reason to bellow. He’d gotten his foot stuck between the slats in his chair. He wasn’t hurt, but he was good and scared and panicking a bit because he couldn’t get his foot back out. Now if I was a really cruel parent, I would’ve fetched the video camera to record the whole event so I could send it in to AFHV to win me some money. Okay, maybe I tried, but the battery was too low (totally kidding here so don’t go calling children’s services on me). With a little bit of maneuvering on my part and lots of complaining about how it hurt on his part, we saved his foot…and the chair. No saws necessary.

And this is why I never get anything done…RRRRUUUUHHHHHWWWWW!