One of the most bemusing things about being an author in an age of social media are people who feel it's their duty to let you know they don't like your work.
Which, fair play to you—I don't expect everyone to dig it—but I'm unsure what you hope to get out of the interaction.
Which, fair play to you—I don't expect everyone to dig it—but I'm unsure what you hope to get out of the interaction.
The wildest thing is the people who'd like to tell you how you could have improved it. Like, my man, this work is finished. Published. This thing you don't like IS the thing.
Anyway, it's weird. A bit funny. A off-putting. Fairly baffling. Never would occur to me to do this.
Anyway, it's weird. A bit funny. A off-putting. Fairly baffling. Never would occur to me to do this.
Also I am not Grant Morrison, in case you were expecting me to be Grant Morrison.
There are a lot of people I intend to read I haven't yet. Mr. Morrison, about whom I've heard many good things (though this was the first comp to my own work), is on the list.
