Wednesday, May 26, 2004

Okay, PW didn't like my book. Screw it. I'm over it. I am past it. One random reviewer writing a short anonymous piece while hungover or sick or menstruating or whatever isn't going to ruin my week.

As my good friend, the writer Rabih Alameddine (who's the sweetest man in the world, as well as being enormously talented), wrote:
Oh hon, that's always awful. Getting a bad review is a killer. I know it won't make you feel good but the reviews of the second book are almost always killers. You know, these PW reviewers are all failed writers. All of them. Real reviewers suck but PW reviewers suck harder. They get paid piddling amounts and no one get to see their names.

So, in keeping with my new philosophy of getting past my recent sourness and returning to my happy, sunny, borderline-retarded disposition, I direct your attention to BoBo's blog, where my Portland friend has started separating the 'a clef' from the 'roman.'