Sunday, November 26, 2006

A Year Later

It was at this time last year that my editor at Ballantine called me and told me he was leaving. I wrote that here and it created a tempest in a teapot.  Still, it seemed awful at the time.  I, without knowing it because he didn’t tell me it was a secret, revealed his plans and in so doing betrayed him.

I also discovered that my blog was read by many people who were in the publishing world.  I had no idea.  I was naive about the blogosphere at that point.  And suddenly people were saying awful things about me and leaving provocative comments on my blog.  I didn’t know then that one could block Anonymous people.  I even made Nitwit of the day (or was it week?) on Miss Snark’s blog where people I didn’t know threw barbs at me.

Anyway, I’m still here and having expressed my concerns with who would be my editor and if he/she would be twelve years old, it didn’t do anything to my career as some had predicted.

I don’t regret it, except for hurting my editor.  I hope he knows I never meant to hurt him. Most likely he never thinks of me or that time.

Tomorrow I’ll go back to working on my book.  I’m not looking forward to it.  It scares me a little.  In fact, I don’t want to do it at all. 

4 comments:

ORION said...

I find it odd how many people can hide behind the name "anonymous" and make hurtful comments. I thought long and hard about blogging because I have read some of the things that go on. Those of us who are reasonable know words are said in haste and I know I have to think long and hard about what I say on my blog.
I decided not to be anonymous. A person can easily find out who I am, therefore I am cautious about what I say. What happened to you (and others) has been a lesson to me. Anything can be misconstrued...but we move on. Ultimately we move on.
You have so much of value on this blog and you help new writers by being honest as well.
I appreciate your candor and am rooting for you to have a creative and successful day tomorrow.

Kate Evans said...

Thanks for sharing your story. The internet is a strange world.

When I first got an agent, I was keeping a blog and posted a few things about him that could easily have been construed as complaints (they really weren't; they were more about me and my impatience). Lo and behold, he was reading my blog. I'd never imagined he'd have the time or desire to do so.

He seemed hurt. I was sincerely apologetic. And that was MY lesson about the internet.

On another note, I know you know Louise Fitzhugh, so I wanted to share this with you: when I was a kid I wrote a letter to Louise Fitzhugh about how much I loved HARRIET THE SPY. I received a letter back from her publisher saying she had recently passed away. HARRIET was fomative to me. And the more I talk to other women, the more I realize how much that book turned many girls into writers.

Best,
Kate Evans

Kay Sexton said...

It is sad how easily the internet has turned people nasty. They wouldn't say to your face what they throw at you through the ether (that's the universal you, not the Sandra you!) and I've just had to think long and hard about a post I've made on mine about a contest that seems dubious to me.

You see, I've tried to contact the organisers, and I've tried to find people who've taken part before, with no success. If I do nothing, then I allow other writers to send in good hard cash to a place that doesn't respond to emails and has no obvious track record or credentials - if I warn those writers who are my friends and/or students, it's unfair to keep quiet about my doubts to those writers who read the blog.

Or so I think. But I wonder if I'm about to suffer a flame war of my own.

I'm sure your editor understood, he was under pressure himself and didn't make his position entirely clear and you were upset and worried about him and his departure. Your response seems to me to have done you credit in the long run. We need to be honest where and when we can!

Bernita said...

I remember that incident.
In the blogsphere there's soon a new fuss to replace the cri du jour.