by Megan Archer
Recently, criticism has reached new blows. A writer’s work isn’t the only thing up for jabs. It is also open season on our faces, bodies, as well the usual suspect – our mental health.
As a reader I admit to enjoying a bit of snark on my Sunday morning toast as the critics rampage through the hopes and dreams of other writers.
So, I’ll be honest here. Do I find AA Gill and Camilla Long entertaining? Yes! As a writer, do I want them unleashed on my work? No!
CRIT MY BOOK – SLEEP WITH THE TADPOLES
So I’m a hypocrite – duh! Aren’t we all? Wait! Put the knee down and think about it for a minute. Why is it so hard not to be gleeful when Mister Goteverythinghandedtohimonaplate doesn’t win the Best-Bookie Award that everyone said should be handed to him on a golden doily?
How do you know whether or not Mister Goteverythinghandedtohimonaplate doesn’t just work a hell of a lot harder than you do? And… heaven forbid – could Mister Goteverythinghandedtohimonaplate just be a better writer than you?
I mean what do we writers expect? We don’t just ask for it – we put it writing; warts, factual inaccuracies, flowery passages, gratuitous descriptions, dull dialogue, simplistic symbolism, comma coma, extraneous alliteration and all!
THE CRIT-LIT SECTION
No wonder critics awarded themselves a genre all of their own!
So having said all that – why was I so pleased to find Bob Garfield, writing in the New York Times, describing BuzzFeed’s decision to desnark the snark page as a ‘heroic initiative’?
Well, maybe because the thought of being mocked, snarked and given a thoroughly good hatcheting in public just isn’t what inspires me.
NOTHING TO FEAR BUT FEAR ITSELF
What am I saying? I did promise to be honest. It’s not just about taking a hit on my inspiration stocks, it’s about fear – real, honest to goodness fear. Could they be right?
To read more from my sometimes-honest diary – click here.
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