I’m trying out flipgorilla. So far, I like what I see.
If you make it big it will flip like a real book!
Cyberbullying is a huge problem that isn’t going to go away
on its own. But since there are numerous stories in the news about teens who
have been cyberbullied to the point of suicide, it’s obviously a problem that
must be addressed.
on its own. But since there are numerous stories in the news about teens who
have been cyberbullied to the point of suicide, it’s obviously a problem that
must be addressed.
Part of the problem is getting teens to understand, really
understand, the issue. Some unkind comments and embarrassing pictures that are
posted are meant as jokes, virtual pranks that are thought to cause no harm.
Others are pointed attacks meant to inflict pain.
understand, the issue. Some unkind comments and embarrassing pictures that are
posted are meant as jokes, virtual pranks that are thought to cause no harm.
Others are pointed attacks meant to inflict pain.
The problem is that there is a gray zone in which the line
between right and wrong is blurred. Exactly where does a joke cease to be a
joke? When does a prank turn malicious? How do you define the difference
between bullying and teasing?
between right and wrong is blurred. Exactly where does a joke cease to be a
joke? When does a prank turn malicious? How do you define the difference
between bullying and teasing?
The gray zone has always been there, but our ultra-connected
world has magnified it to monumental proportions.
world has magnified it to monumental proportions.
What teens need is a user-friendly way to shrink that blurry
area. That’s what Gray
Zone, provides. A way to understand and recognize the problem, so we can
fix it.
area. That’s what Gray
Zone, provides. A way to understand and recognize the problem, so we can
fix it.
By the way, a new media release just went out.
I knew I’d get one sooner or later. A one star review.
No one can write a book that is all things to all people. If one person loves it, another will hate it. That’s the way the world works.
But I’m a little disappointed in this particular one star review. Mainly because I’m pretty sure it’s a fake.
When I first read the review I took it at face value. Someone read my book and didn’t like it. Fair enough.
But when I took a second look I noticed an overabundance of spite and malice. What exactly about my book had made the reviewer so mad? Anger oozed out of every word like puss from an infected cut.
It prompted me to do a little research on the reviewer. What I found surprised me.
There are reviewers who take pleasure in reviewing harshly. They usually seem to think their opinion is worth more than the opinions of others so they review a lot and often. But this one had only one review listed–the one star spiteful attack against my book. In addition, the only person I could find with the same name is a famous scholar and author in France.
Really? What’s the likelihood of that?
That’s when I realized that the one star rant wasn’t aimed at my book. I was the target. Me. Personally.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, I know how the Internet works. I’m well aware that masked bandits act very differently than unmasked ones. The mask makes them feel protected, invincible even. No chance of recognition means no responsibility, so they fling good sense and common courtesy to the wind.
My question is, who did I tick off so much that he or she wants to damage my career?
Oh well. There is one positive to all this. At least I’m getting a firsthand taste of cyber harassment, the adult version of cyberbullying!
Let me tell you, it doesn’t taste good!
I think I’ll go brush my teeth.
Later
I just looked at the review and it’s been edited. Some of the more personal comments about me as a writer have been taken out. Could the reviewer be trying to hide the spitefulness, to make the review appear more legitimate and less like an attack?
If he really wants to hide the attack the next step will be to post more reviews. I’m interested to see if he (or it could be a she) will exert that much effort.
Even Later (because I’m not good at letting things go, or so my husband tells me)
I’ve come up with three possible theories to explain this review.
1. A wanna-be superhero read my book and felt compelled by an irresistible force to go through the bother of assuming a secret identity so he/she could post a negative review to save the world from the mundaneness of my writing. (Strange, but it could happen.)
2. Someone became ticked off by something I did, so he/she decided to teach me ‘a lesson’ by assuming a fake name to write a negative review. In this scenario, no one is trying to save the world, only cause damage with a little cyber harassment. (There are bullies everywhere!)
3. A competing author is beginning a campaign to build himself/herself up by knocking other author’s down. If this instance is correct the reviewer will write good reviews for his/her own work and the work of well-known authors, and write nasty reviews for authors who don’t have the backing of large publishing houses with significant marketing budgets. (Extremely unethical, but I’ve heard of it happening more times than you can imagine. I already have another review that I found out was written for this very reason.)
Update
Out of curiosity I looked this morning and the one star review was gone. (Did I mention I have trouble letting things go?)
I have no clue what the disappearance of the review means.
Will it come back?
Only time will tell.
It’s really funny, the tricks our brains play on us.
The most recent trick my brain played happened because I’ve decided to create a series of videos about cyberbullying. There are so many misconceptions about it floating around. Not only about what it is, but how to handle it.
It’s a complicated issue. Way more complicated than traditional physical bullying.
So last night I spent some time creating a list of things I want to talk about. Some of the things are overall bullying issues, and some specific to the digital world. All are important.
Thinking about creating the videos makes me a bit nervous since I don’t really like myself in front of camera. But honestly, my likes and dislikes aren’t worth a hill of beans. I am on a mission to put the brakes on this whole cyberbully business. If the videos help anybody, anybody at all, they’ll be worth it.
So my nerves were on edge and my mind was focused on bullies and the Internet.
What a bad night that created. I dreamed all night about surfing the Web, and I do mean surfing it! I wasn’t on a computer, I was part of the Internet. I skateboarded along the Information Highway and swam an ocean of data.
It was exhausting.
I tried to escape. But every time I found a likely portal I was blocked and told that there could be no crossing over from the virtual world to the real world.
As if that was the truth!
I was never so glad to wake up in the morning. Being trapped in the chaos that is the World Wide Web is not a relaxing experience. I’ll take the real world any day.
For those of you who haven’t seen it yet, here’s a little video I did about Gray Zone.
The novel is scheduled to be released in January, 2014.
Let me know if you have any questions about the book. I’d love to chat with you.
When it comes to results, writer’s block is to a professional writer what a broken arm is to a professional baseball player. It’s painful, causes loss of work, and brings with it the thought that it might mean the end of a career.
But what is it? What is this thing we call ‘writer’s block’?
For every writer I’m sure it’s different, but for me:
Writer’s block is a black hole in my brain that snags each brightly lit idea and sucks it away just as my hands hit the keyboard.
Writer’s block is over thinking plot lines and character traits. It’s spending so much time in the planning stage that the writing stage never happens.
Writer’s block is being caught up the day-to-day chaos that is my everyday life.
Writer’s block is receiving rejection after rejection, until the belief takes hold that rejections are all that will ever come.
Writer’s block is letting one snarky review overshadow all the good reviews.
Writer’s block is the fear that my belief in myself is unfounded. That I’m a bad writer and will always be a bad writer.
Writer’s block is the belief that even if I craft every thought as perfectly as I’m able, even if I share my very soul, I’ll never be thought of as anything but an amateur.
Writer’s block is each truly horrific moment when the switch in my brain is stuck in the “off” position. When the ability to write is not so much blocked as it is broken.
Writer’s block steals hope and replaces it with doubt.
Writer’s block is sometimes a hurdle to be jumped over, and sometimes a mountain to be climbed.
Writer’s block is insidious and powerful.
But luckily, writer’s block is all in my head.
Dreams are funny things. Some of them are strange concoctions created by sleepy brains, blended images which rapidly switch directions and send the dreamer on a roller-coaster ride through the imagination.
Other dreams act more as guides. They solve mysteries, figure out problems, and uncover hidden jealousies. Wake up in the morning after one of this sort and you miraculously remember exactly where you left those keys you couldn’t find yesterday. That twisted math problem that had been unsolvable suddenly becomes clear. And most importantly, you finally understand why your best friend said that malicious remark that devastated you at lunch.
But only a very few fortunate (or maybe unfortunate) souls get to experience the rarest dream of all. For this brand of dream has no connection to the imagination and does not occur in the human head. Instead, it happens in a realm of its own…in the baffling, mysterious, and dangerous land of dreams.
Thousands of years ago, a culture thrived in the Pacific Northwest. Today, there is no sign of this flourishing culture. The entire city, with the exception of a few stray survivors, suffered a cataclysmic event that ripped apart the fabric of the universe and pushed them, buildings and all, into another dimension.
Thousands of years ago, a culture thrived in the Pacific Northwest. Today, there is no sign of this flourishing culture. The entire city, with the exception of a few stray survivors, suffered a cataclysmic event that ripped apart the fabric of the universe and pushed them, buildings and all, into another dimension.
So what happens when someone discovers how to travel through the land of dreams, and the lives of our world become entwined with those of the other dimension?
My last post was about why I stick to fiction. My intent was to explain why I don’t write about my own family.
Which, of course, required me to write about my own family. I guess I could have just as easily written about a friend’s family, or neighbor’s family, but that didn’t seem fair.
Evidently I opened up a can of worms with that one, since I was told (via comment, no less, since phones don’t exist) that I came off as “judgmental, arrogant, pompous and like you feel you are better than your family.”
Everyone is entitled to their opinion. No matter how wrong it is.
I guess I could take my previous post down but then I would feel I’d been censored. Can’t have that! Especially when no one’s reputation was damaged by what I wrote. No one was bullied or maligned.
Except for me, in the comment.
So, to set the record straight:
– I love the South. Being a Southerner is part of my identity, it’s ingrained in my soul, and I’m proud of it. There are a lot of misconceptions about the South, so as a Southerner living in the Pacific Northwest I spend a lot of energy informing people about the good aspects of the South.
– I love my family, all of them. I am proud of a good chunk of them, but there are a few of them that live by a different set of rules than I do. I guess you could say they tend toward the dramatic rather than the ethical.
– Life-is-a-soap-opera is a world-wide problem, not one restricted to any region or country. As I stated before, every family has at least one.
– Saying “my family is littered with them” could be taken to mean that everyone in my family is a soap-opera-wannabe. Which is not what I intended, since that would include me. But since the definition of ‘littered’ is ‘scattered about’, the real implication is that there are a few mixed in with the many.
– Just because I didn’t mention the normal people doesn’t mean I don’t know they exist. I’m normal, and I know I exist.
– When it comes to family, no matter what is said, someone will be offended. Something will always be taken the wrong way. Which is why I rarely write about family.
– My family history belongs to me just as much as it does to any other family member. It is part of what makes me, me. Think about it.
Until next week, on As the Family Churns.
Every family has at least one. Maybe it’s an aunt that lives far away and never attends family get-togethers, or an uncle that no one ever mentions. Or maybe it’s a cousin who causes everyone in the room to shake their head sadly whenever his or her name comes up in conversation.
Every family has at least one, but my family is littered with them. Perhaps it’s because my mother and her family were sharecroppers in the Deep South. There were nine children, five girls and four boys, all living with their parents in what most would call a hovel. Poor does not come close to describing their economic status.
Life was difficult, and it isn’t surprising that few of them graduated from high school. So who can really blame the ones who conducted their lives more like a soap opera than a stable family life?
Take one of my relatives as an example. She’s nearing seventy and has never held a job in her life. Instead of a traditional job she’s made it her life’s work to marry the perfect man. To date she has been married six times, and not once has one of her marriages ended in divorce. All her husbands have died, but not of natural causes.
Her story would make a good drama, but I wouldn’t touch it with the proverbial ten-foot pole. She’s probably the least ethical and most money hungry person I’ve ever met. To make a deal with her for her life story rights would be identical to making a deal with the devil. No matter how much she was given she would never be satisfied. I shiver to think of the mess it would create.
They are my family. We share genes. But that certainly does not mean that I have to write about them, no matter how much fodder they provide.
I write fiction. Like most writers, I often draw from my own experiences to form the basis for the stories. It helps to me to create more depth in the stories, make them more believable and real.
But although I do sometimes use family members, friends, and even strangers I meet on the street to inspire my characters and stories, my final product is always an invention of my imagination. That little glimmer of reality, that part that inspires the story, lives a short yet fruitful life. It provides a beacon that burns only until the bright light of imagination takes over.
So no matter where I begin, no matter who or what served as my inspiration, by the time I’ve finished the story there is very little similarity between the original and my creation.
It is safer that way, and more fun. I prefer to write fiction. I enjoy creating new worlds and situations, being in full control of the beginning, the middle, and the end.
I just found out that the first copies of Gray Zone are being printed.
I’m so excited! I can’t wait to have a copy of the book in my hands.
Here’s what the front will look like.
In case you forgot what it’s about:
Forced to transfer schools after a cyber-prank goes viral and threatens her safety, Autumn tries to make it an opportunity to reinvent herself—but when tragedy strikes, she decides enough is enough.