If you know how my birthdays usually go…

…what is about to happen is both typical and hilarious.

So!  I am very nearly 29 (in two hours or so, EST).  I think I am more worried about freaking out over nearly being 30 than actually nearly being 30.  28 should be pretty nifty.  I’ll graduate (well, presumably), hopefully get a job, visa, and a new flat in Cardiff.  Basically, I will get to start the life that’s been on hold for two and a half years, and I’m honestly so happy about it.  (When I’m not having panic attacks.)

28 was pretty neat too, I guess.  I managed to meet Tommy Bowe, do some really fun metalworking stuff, and publish for the first time.  Which is my really awkward segue into the meh review I managed to find here. (It’s an old entry, it’s just the way her site is constructed, with every new post, I get a google alert oh god I just told the internet I have a google news alert on my nom de plume fuuuuuuck.)

It’s strange and not really hurty* because 1) Christ sakes it’s a review the woman’s entitled to her opinion 2) it’s kind of all true.  Except what she doesn’t like, I liked writing!

I think it’s because it’s not like a lot of short story romances that are out there, so I just wasn’t expecting it.

Okay, seriously, that’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said about my writing.  Seriously.  It’s not a backwards compliment, it’s just…yes!  Yay!  That’s what I want!

The entire thing has a distant storyteller quality to it, much like some literary fiction or older works. […] I can’t engage with it, which is why I don’t enjoy a lot of what is considered classical literature.

There are two ways to view this:  Life is too short to read a Henry James sentence.  (Well it is.)  And that at first I was sort of backwards-compliment pleased, and then I remembered that I don’t actually like most classical literature, I just like pretending I do (see Henry James joke above).  So, heh.

The rest of the review points out some of the flaws, but I think what I liked best was that the author just kind of admitted that it wasn’t her kind of story, which, fair do’s.  (Dear Book Utopia Mom:  if you happened to find this, I really am sorry you didn’t like it much.  It’s a style I’m really moving away from (HAY GUESS WHY IT’S NOT COS IT’S DEATHLESS), so I hope you give another of my stories a try someday, if the description appeals to you!  But thank you for taking the time to read it, and review it.  Seriously, it’s good feedback.)

So I have survived my first non-tactful “er…no.”  Cool.  I shall now go count down the days until I’m plunged back into the UK where I hear you remember what warmth is.

*Not to say it was fun to read, but I wasn’t in tears or anything.  I can feel plenty glum about my writing with no help, really.


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