Author: Janna Hill

No Authors Allowed (Here’s Your Sign)

/ Janna Hill / 6 Comments

No Authors Allowed (Here’s Your Sign)

That is sort of a contradictory title because I made this sign just for you 🙂

This is really about reader feedback and what NOT to do.

I enjoy reHere's Your Signader feedback. What writer doesn’t? I encourage it and welcome even the antagonistic.

Negative reviews don’t tend to bother me either, keeping in mind negative is not always a bad thing.

Those reviews can actually be quite beneficial. A negative review might alert the author or their representative to unknown errors, loose ends or confusing plots.

Readers are a good thing and many have a wealth of expertise to offer, so writer don’t get hoity toity and remember this:

Authors are expected to overlook bad reviews as part of this chosen profession. It is considered taboo and unprofessional for an author to respond to any review. Reviews are for readers.

I truly believe in that philosophy and for the most part have upheld that belief.

I said for the most part. However…

First in my own defense let me say (that means I know I screwed up)

I have deleted many emails without replying that were riddled with crude remarks. I have even laughed at a few. Especially those that have nothing to do with my writing. Some people are way too comfortable sitting in their boxers behind a computer screen and a screen name.

A lot of them are rather funny and a few are just… heck. Take Rita Fay for example. She (if that is her real name and she is really a she) was kind enough to send me an email that said “You have a big Irish head.”

???

I don’t know what that has to do with anything I’ve written, but okay.

Honestly I thought it was one of my sisters pulling a prank. Sadly, it was not. Even sadder, it is true – I do have a big Irish head. Rita was only making an observation. 😦 I know. My response?  Delete.

Do I get a brownie point to offset what followed? No.

A few days ago I received an email that read:

Dear Janet Hill,

In reading your book I have made the following observances: you are unlearned, unladylike, your vocabulary is foul and you are grammatically challenged to say the least. I suggest you return to your nursing vocation where less cognitive thought is required.

Mr. xxxxxxxx

Boing! Ouch! I’m not sure why that stung more than the remark about my over-sized cranium but it did. It really REALLY struck a nerve. I had typed as much as “bite me you hateful bastard. You don’t have any idea what it takes to be a nurse and by the way my name is Janna, not Janet you dumb ass!” before catching myself. Delete. That would have certainly proved his point, wouldn’t it? So I took a deep breath and a long walk. Occasionally I paused to smell the flowers kick-box the air and walked farther until I had re-composed my normally genteel demeanor. When I was completely calm I walked back to my desk and replied.

Dear Mr. X,

It was quiet generous of you to spare a moment of your time and share your thoughts on my authoring abilities. Please accept my utmost apology if I have offended you, that was not my intention. You may also rest assured I have given much consideration to your observances while reflecting upon my personal faults and have come to this conclusion: you sir, are not qualified to read my book.

I know! That was a totally self-saboteur smart alack response. But que sera, sera y’all. There was no looking back; it was too late to detour. I had hit send, spilled the milk, broke the glass and lit the match. In the ashes of after thoughts I knew I’d messed up and wondered is this another bridge burned? “Time will tell” I assured myself.

Well I am delighted to tell you I have found a fan and a friend in Mr. X. He promptly replied with an apology and an obvious chuckle. I could almost hear him laughing at his own mischief when I read:

Dear Janna,

My sincerest apologies for ruffling your lovely feathers. I enjoyed your book. Actually I have enjoyed several of your books and wondered which persona might be closest to your personality. Every author breathes their own life into the cast; whether or not an author will admit that is a different topic. I was curious as well to know if you were truly southern or merely using that as a selling point. I am satisfied that you are genuine. Please forgive an ornery old man for having a wicked laugh at your expense.

Sincerely,

P.S. A thing you must learn for your own well being is this: commentators have individual motives, some write simply for the sport of it.

Whew! I dodged my own bullet.

So, have I changed my belief that authors should not reply? No! This turnout was a rare example. A short note saying thank you to a compliment? Sure, for me that is considered polite. But to respond to ridicule (in a public forum or private e mail) is bad practice. My retaliation could have had dire consequences especially for an unknown indie trying to build a fan base. Word spreads quickly among reader communities, especially if you anger someone who has 4899 followers. I was wrong to reply.

What was I thinking when I said “you sir are not qualified to read my book.”? I wasn’t! Even though I thought I had calmed down, I hadn’t. If I had been calm and rational I would have never hit that send button.

Writers are Bizarre

/ Janna Hill / 7 Comments

 

Writers are Bizarre, oh yes they are. I feel certain the majority of authors know this – those who don’t have not yet had their epiphany or come to terms with the fact. If the truth be told they are more than strange, they are obsessive odd balls bordering on schizophrenia. I suspect many have prescriptions but refuse to take the psychotropic medication because it hinders their creativity. They need to feel alive; to interact with the personalities dueling inside their heads, not subdue them. Their characters must be allowed a chance at life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness as well as the right to die.

Writers are bizarre, oh yes they are. From my observations this peculiarity seems to afflict creative writers especially. Creative writers and poets. Oh, poets are creative writers? Okay. Poets are a also a grievous lot. They are constantly imagining, seeing, and feeling or thinking. They are a curious hand with six digits and a raw nerve. Most of them are bereaved with some sort of incurable pain. Odd thing is it’s usually not their pain but the aches of every one and every thing around them as if they carried the weight of the world on their shoulders. On occasion one will write about the joy or beauty found in something. Usually that something is what the rest of earth’s inhabitants dismiss or take for granted on a daily basis.

Writers are bizarre, oh yes indeed they are. They carve out niches for indolent thoughts, sow seeds of cerebration, offer rest to weary secrets, and give birth to imagination.

Now what sort of world would this be without these flaky, freakish, alien-like individuals?

Gone would be the greens and reds, lost to slow decay. In place of all the rainbows bled – a shade of muted gray.

Weekly Photo Challenge: BIG

/ Janna Hill / 7 Comments

 

This is BUD. See BUD stand

The Big Ugly Dish designed for C-band

                                                                      BUD stares south, stands guard all day

                                                                     Directing Bravo West while watching buzzards play

In the sky that is… OMG The Ballad of Jed Clampett has consumed me. Y’all come back now, y’hear.

 

To Bee or not to Bee

/ Janna Hill / 7 Comments

Can’t live with `em- Can’t live without `em.

Bee’s are beneficial. We wouldn’t have our delicious honey without them and plants would become extinct without their pollinating expertise. But when we are not willing to share our home with them… what to do?

To bee or not to bee?

The local beekeepers won’t take them for fear of their “being Africanized” meaning they may have crossed with the dreaded, aggressive African honeybee.  They don’t appear aggressive to me but what do I know? Nada!

The last professional removed a comb from the flooring of the house (that sits on stilts in South Texas) and sprayed some sort of “poison” to deter them. I soaked the area in vinegar and I was the only creature bothered by it.

We have plugged any holes we found to keep them out of the house but they continually swarm beneath the house. They want in! I want them alive and happy, I just don’t want them as roommates. It’s my vacation home maybe they think they have seniority being full time residents?

[Sigh] I just want them to go away.  Any advice?

Once they make it into the house they go directly to the kitchen window where they die on the window sill.
Are they drawn to the sunlight or looking for a way out?…
Here they gather in the corner of the same kitchen window. At one point they hung in a thick cluster.

The Rewards of Spontaniety

/ Janna Hill / 3 Comments

Last week my husband phoned form work at 7:30 A.M and said “start packing.” I didn’t question him I just threw a few suits of clothing into a suitcase along with the laptop and camera, gathered up the dog’s bare essentials and waited. He had been talking about heading south when October’s first cold front came through to do a little fishing but his work schedule did not look agreeable. Apparently something changed and he seized the moment.

“Carpe diem!” I said. “I don’t care for Carp – I’m after a Redfish.” He replied with a wink.

I think know he dreams of catching a trophy Red.

Within thirty minutes he has his 16 foot 1957 aluminum boat hooked up and ready to roll. We have a skiff but he likes that old dinghy. Anyway seven hours later we are standing in the salty breeze assessing the conditions. The tide, the wind, the weeds and the water temperature. Fishing is very serious business, that’s why I usually leave it to him. Thank goodness a cousin showed up to keep him company on the water while I undertook the tasks of reading and snapping pictures. All in the name of research of course.

Taking off on a whim is something we haven’t done in a very long time and you know what? I loved it!

These are the rewards of spontaneity

Hopefully he laughed himself to death
No, those are not Redfish but they will do.
The “cold front” brought some awesome clouds
I’d like to think they never knew what hit `em.
Trophy? No but by golly they are Redfish!
The birds gather as the tide goes out. I was so excited to catch a few shots of these elusive pink birds.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Happy

/ Janna Hill / 10 Comments

This weeks photo challenge is Happy.

What makes me happy? This gallery could go on forever with an endless list of small things that bring the greatest joy. It is probably a good thing that I am away from home right now, saving you from a trillion gigabytes of what makes me smile. I’ve narrowed it down to five from my hard drive.

An over-sized chair in a remote location…
Easy people and anticipation…
Bright flowers and blue skies…
Contented tiredness and toothless smiles….
Family and Food and the faces they make…

Weekly Photo Challenge (Mine)

/ Janna Hill / Leave a comment

Nestled in the woods there is tiny space of refuge. A place of respite and reflection and it is mine. At least that’s what the sign says.

[For the weekly photo challenge titled Mine]

When I look up at the sign that says it is mine I pause and thank The Creator.

Weekly Photo Challenge (Solitary)

/ Janna Hill / 3 Comments

This week’s photo challenge is titled Solitary. Though solitary is defined as: solitude, alone, secluded, singular or without companions the word itself conjures a multitude of images.

I immediately imagine a one man game of cards, confinement, loneliness, punishment and isolation. Well those things along with an old song ‘Countin’ Flowers on the Wall’ overlapping the imageries

Yet what I chose to submit is an empty chair. Now I sit alone pondering what that means (if anything) while I scroll through the other intriguing submissions and wonder what solitary means to so many others.

Alone in the Woods

Here is an excerpt from the lyrics of Countin’ Flowers on the wall.

Counting flowers on the wall,
That don’t bother me at all.
Playing Solitaire till dawn,
With a deck of fifty-one.
Smoking cigarettes and watching Captain Kangaroo.
Now, don’t tell me I’ve nothing to do

P.S.  A personal tidbit. Dour Number IIII was inspired by these very woods. Just beyond the barn in the background another world exists.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Everday Life

/ Janna Hill / 13 Comments

This weeks photo challenge is titled Everyday Life

Why did I choose this photo depicting dusty dirt roads? #1 Because these roads are part of my every day life and #2 it reminds me that every day we are presented with at least two choices. How we choose decides the direction our lives will take.

Every Day Life and (at least) Two Choices