Oversensitive Authors on the Internet: Or, when to put on your big-kid pants.

In light of some of the misunderstandings about my Oprah rant, I would like to say ahead of time that I am not calling out all authors who have an internet presence. Some, like Neil Gaiman and Margaret Atwood, are lovely. Some others are oversensitive douches. The latter are the ones I mean any time I talk about authors’ bad internet behavior. The only ones. Forever.

Mandy from Adventures in Borkdom tipped us off to major recent Goodreads drama between some YA authors and reviewers. In both instances, the reviewer took umbrage with the book in question for perpetuating what they felt were dangerous stereotypes to which young readers shouldn’t be exposed; in both instances, authors or friends of authors publicly took the reviewer to task for “attacking” the work. I had thought to write about it, but Cuddlebuggery already has some great summaries of some of the dramatic incidents in question, if you’d like to check it out for yourselves. I’ll wait. (Just hurry back? Because I really did write a post, just not summarizing those particular events.)

Mandy passed the links along to Amy, who passed the links along to me, possibly because I’ve actually had a negative author run-in myself, on Shelfari–a story which I plan to share with you now, so sit back, friends and neighbors, while I spin a yarn.

Back when Shelfari still had the friending system rather than the follow system, I had a huge note on my profile (much like the one on my Goodreads profile, but a little nicer) that said something to the effect of “Attention authors: do not add me to mass-friending expeditions for the sole purpose of promoting your book, because I probably won’t ever read it.” (Charming, no?) This mass-friending-to-plug-books behavior was rampant on Shelfari at the time; the message was at the top of my profile, in bold font, for maximum warding-off effect. I also have a list of things I like and dislike on the same profile. And, of course, I have my shelf all filled out with books I’ve read, books I’m interested in reading, and so forth. Any author who genuinely thought that they could connect with me had means to figure out whether or not I would be a good fit for their works, and I encouraged them to contact me on a personal level, rather than with a pitch about their book. I’m not a monster, I just play one on TV.

One day, I got this friend request from author James Ross:

“Please don’t view this as a mass-friending. You live in Columbus and that happens to be a golf mecca. I thought that either you or your husband my [sic] want to be informed about stories delivered from a golf setting. I’m a relatively new author who has written a novel a year for four years. My setting is Prairie Winds Golf Course which sits high atop the Mississippi river bluffs just east of St. Louis. The topics of my books are social issues that discuss justice, discrimination, white-collar crime, fraud, div”

Yes, the message just cut off there. Yes, he really did pitch me about recommending his books to my husband, who I guess is supposed to be some kind of sports nut because he has a penis.

This was the most bizarre approach by an author that I’d ever had. You’ll note that he did, indeed, read my warning, because he mentioned the mass-friending that I had said I didn’t want to be subjected to. And  . . . . . who writes golf novels? And . . . . . who contacts a woman he doesn’t know and makes suggestions for her husband? Did I fall asleep and wake up in 1950? If my husband wanted Shelfari authors to contact him with recommendations, he’d start a goddamn Shelfari account of his own.

I sent him a reply that he has since deleted–he deleted my comments back to him with haste–that said something along the lines of me not being aware that Columbus is a “golf mecca.” I dressed him down a tad for contacting me about his books despite clearly having read the caveat at the top of my page asking not to be contacted. I also questioned him as to what in blue hell made him think, based on the available information on my profile and shelf, I would like golf novels? I have zero sports-related anything on my profile. There’s no “Go Bucks!” No books about sports. Not even a whiff of sportsiness.

I got this reply (my bolding for emphasis, italicized comments for incredulity):

“I guess the door can swing both ways. It doesn’t seem that you took the time to even read what the books were about. Only the setting is a golf environment. [So golf isn't central to the stories, even though you based your pitch on the fact that I live in a "golf mecca" and mentioned golf three times? Who the hell is your audience? Do you even know? Also, why was I supposed to take time to read what your books were about?]

If you don’t know where Jack Nicklaus is from, where he went to school or where the Memorial tournament is held every year perhaps you don’t know too much about Columbus. I’ve had several people from the area compliment me on bringing the books to their attention. [Perhaps you don't know too much about Columbus, because I've lived in the city limits for six years and you're the only person who's ever mentioned golf to me.]

Obviously you don’t want to hear about new authors. Stay in your comfort zone. Many on this site strongly encourage contact from new authors and for the one that is ticked off there are forty-nine that are thankful that they are informed. Getting comments like yours are part of the territory when you stick your neck out a little to bring news to people. Simply scratch me off your list.” [You were never on the list to scratch off, jerk. Did you forget that you contacted me?]

After he insulted my knowledge of the city I live in and accused me of being an unadventurous reader, the conflict continued much in the same vein, ragesnowballing until Mr. Ross “thanked” me for the “PR” he was getting (he’s going to be really happy about this post, I guess!) and promised to write my “internet persona” into his next book; I think that was code for, “I’m going to make one of my characters a raving bitch, just like you.” The previous exchange, though, illustrates everything that I feel is wrong with the attitude that a certain type of author takes when contacting reviewers or potential fans on the internet: boundaries are often overstepped, catty (or angry) remarks are made by the author when they are not lavished upon warmly or when they feel insulted, the author makes him- or herself look like an ass.

Here’s the kicker when it comes to James Ross: had he apologized to me, and admitted his error sincerely, then countered with some human conversation, I might have stopped being annoyed. And then, I might have suggested some of his books to my family back home. Because every single person on my mom’s side of the family? Golfer. My uncle? Coaches the golf team at my former high school, and probably has dozens of golfy friends from all over Kentucky. (Of course, after that, I had to look up his books–and based on the excerpts I saw, I think I dodged a bullet, because my family would have hated me for recommending them.) None of this happened because Mr. Ross failed to accept that he had, in fact, made an error in ignoring my boundaries. Much like the maxim that a customer who has a bad experience will tell ten friends, who will tell ten friends, Mr. Ross’s interaction with me cemented him in the eyes of many people that I know as being a total douchebag. If he has had many encounters like this, it cannot be good for his career.

I imagine the same might hold true for the negative reviewers I mentioned above. Had the authors been a tiny bit gracious when they felt they had to defend their work–or, had the authors made sure that their friends understood that snidely bashing reviewers is not okay–they might have been able to achieve a meeting of the minds with those reviewers; at the very least, they wouldn’t look like total asshats to people who are following these very public displays. If they had just ignored it? As someone pointed out somewhere in the loads of comments to those incidents, an author with solid work doesn’t need to defend their work. Their fans are more than happy to do so. I agree with this wholeheartedly; if you have a work that stands up on its own, no negative reviews can knock it down. But if you act like an asshole, a lot of people may never even get to your work to find out.

Maybe it’s not fair that reviewers and random internet people can play dirty and authors should play nice; then again, those random internet people probably aren’t trying to sell anybody the reviewed work, while authors are. It comes down to a matter of protecting one’s interests.

As the barrier between readers and authors grows thinner with new internet technology, we’re beginning to see more and more authors–and other kinds of artists, musicians, actors, and so on–who are practically begging for a Public Relations 101 seminar. (How many celebs have shamefully retreated from Twitter after a few too many misguided tweets?) One thing that these authors need to learn, in my considered opinion, is that we Shelfarians and Goodreaders are there to review books, to read reviews of books, and to talk about books. If we connect with authors along the way, it is secondary to the primary goal of finding and consuming more books. Getting snippy or throwing a tantrum at a reader or potential reader makes an author–a supposed professional–look bad to that reader, that reader’s friends, and to anonymous people who view these public exchanges. Hitch up those big girl panties, oversensitive authors, because unless you have a beloved persona that’s based on being snarky and sarcastic toward people, you’re not doing yourself any favors when you act this way. We’re not on those sites for you, we’re there for us.

How do you feel about author interactions with fans? Is an ugly public interaction enough to put you off an author or steer you away from one, or do you only care if they write well? Have you ever had a negative experience with an author? Let’s hear your thoughts!