January 22, 2006
Well, let's see. Explain the subject title, Mark. It's a bounce off part of the "Lost In Space" movie, which nobody but me and my wife liked. After the robot gets abandoned on the ship with the space spiders, Will Robinson goes about re-building it, and comments that his mom always told him to make new friends.

What the hell am I talking about?

I was just over on the Buzz, Balls & Hype blog and there's an entry about some writer complaining that her friends don't support her writing by reading her work.

Whine, whine, whine.

Well, it can cause writers some hurt, justified or not. When I published my first book, Catfish Guru, and, for that matter, my second, Dirty Deeds, I was still working in the cytogenetics laboratory at Henry Ford Hospital and it was gratifying just how many people bought the book. And illuminating how many--or who--did not. About the only one who I felt slightly grumpy about was the woman who had been sitting next to me in our little desks for the last 5 years. No, we weren't buddies, but I thought she might have coughed up some money, but didn't. Whatever. It doesn't really bother me much. We were barely civil to each other on most days, so expecting her to give me money for something she didn't want was really asking too much.

Having said that, I would also like to comment that my wife has never read any of my novels, unpublished or published. Does it bother me? Probably at some level, but I also understand that since having kids she hasn't read many novels at all, and her reading tends more toward large presidential biographies and nonfiction. And frankly, I see how busy the woman is. She also has a more rational and unbiased opinion on the type of person who would spend as much time and energy as I have over the years in this pursuit of publication. She's very supportive of the nonfiction that pays the bills and tolerant of the fiction that barely pays for itself.

I don't, actually, expect my friends to read my books or buy them just because they're my friends. If they do, great. Thanks, I appreciate it. If not, well, whatever. The fact is, if I think they would have liked it based on the types of books they read, then I might be disappointed they didn't give it a shot, just on general principle. But overall, books for many people are a luxury and well, whatever. It's their money.

I'm being objective, okay? Hopefully I'm old enough and mature enough to not be wounded by these sorts of things. What works for me is to realize that most people don't view your books the way you do. Or any of your work, for that matter. We all tend to view our books as our babies. My brother is a reasonably successful composer, and I like his work quite a bit, but it is of the modern avante garde kind of thing, and I don't think it's much of a secret that my mother hated most of it. I was sort of amused by this, since it wasn't at all my mother's type of music and she never was one to gracefully hide her negative opinions of things her children did that she didn't like. And really, this is not the forum for discussing my feelings about my parents. Let's just say, as far as I can tell, my brother handled this sort of thing reasonably well.

That said, sometimes you do have to raise your eyebrows. Happy birthday to Karl Schmidt, my oldest friend, who I'm reasonably sure does not read this blog. His father bought a copy of Dirty Deeds, but I don't believe he had a chance to read it before his death. I know that Karl did read it--borrowed it from his parents, the cheapskate--and made some comment in surprise, "It was pretty good." And really, he was saying that as if he was very surprised. I say this just as a way to sweep off the top level of dust in my subconscious, not because I have any particular answers for people on this subject.

The fact is, when it comes to the arts of any sort, people may or not like what you're doing even if they like you. It's not--at least I don't think (that's my opinion and I'll stick with it)--that they secretly don't like you so don't like your art. Oh is there a point here?

I guess the point is, your work will probably never be as important to other people as it is to you.

Best,
Mark Terry