Hey, your breath stinks

Honestly, can we handle honesty?

Welcome Friends And New Subscribers!

I hope you all have a full-filling Thanksgiving dinner with warm and lively drama (oops 😉) family time.

pause here for a sappy moment of thanks to my readers ☺️

Person!

I once saw Howie Mandel perform at a small local theater. In the midst of his routine, a fan up in the balcony section shouted, “HOWIE.” Howie stopped mid-sentence. The theater grew quiet, waiting, watching the comedian who continued to look up at where the voice had come from. After a long pause, likely only seconds, Howie yelled back, “PERSON!” It was spontaneously brilliant. Decades later, I still find it hilarious. Perhaps it’s the flat out obviousness that tickles me, much like in college when, instead of paying attention to the lecture we were attending, the person next to me diligently doodled on his tall to-go cup. He’d spent a significant amount of time focusing on this masterpiece, so I when I finally peeked, instead of the intricate drawing I’d expected, he’d written “CUP.”

It was so simplistically unexpected I burst out laughing (loudly, I might add). I think this love of cut-and-dried, observational humor is why Seinfeld will always be one of my favorites. Really, what more did he do other than voice the things most of us probably wouldn’t say out loud? But when you’re not up on a stage, stating the obvious, saying it like it is, speaking your mind isn’t always well received.

And that leads us to speaking honestly. We’re all taught to be honest, with some decorum, of course. So why is it when you do tell it like it is, people gasp, shush you, express shock, “how can you say such a thing?” I mean, I wouldn’t tell someone their breath stinks, but I would definitely say something if they have a stream of toilet paper stuck to their shoe. Here’s the thing, if you dish out the truth, can you take it when the plate is flung back in your face?

Many of us upcoming debut authors are wondering the very same thing. We’re putting our book babies out in the world to share. WE think the story is good. Our publishers had to have agreed, right? But will you? Will you like my book, ergo me? Are we all waiting for our Sally Field moment of assurance?

And what if you don’t like our book? Can we deal with the critical reviews?

This Author’s Talking Bookish podcast episode description nailed it:

“When an author/writer writes a book, they invest not just their time and effort but a piece of their soul. Their hearts. They pour their thoughts, emotions, and creativity into the pages, and, when that book is finally out in the world, it becomes vulnerable to the opinions of readers.”

As an art student in college, constructive criticism was a necessary evil, and, not going to lie, it stung more often than not. But when you learn to embrace it as a vehicle for growth, there are visible improvements on your canvas. The same mindset applies to feedback on working manuscripts. Yet, it somehow feels different when criticism comes from an unknown reader, someone who purchased the book and their expectations weren’t met.

There is a great debate amongst my writing cohorts—to read reviews or not to read them. One author recently advised to never read them.

“If you absolutely must know, have someone else do it.”

Cool, but if I have someone else read it and the review is a heart-slasher, then aren’t I burdening someone close to me? Won’t I be able to read their expression when they avoid eye contact trying to keep the bad news from me? Will their need to protect my feelings drive a wedge between us? And won’t I do everything to catch them off guard, so they tell me anyway?

Sharon Wishnow

recently recommended the book Toxic Feedback by

Joni B. Cole

to me, and now I’m recommending it to you. As the author says, (I’m mostly paraphrasing here) it’s a book to help authors survive and thrive from feedback, and for those providing feedback as a means to build up, not tear down and author.

To read or not to read reviews? Tell me your thoughts—we’ll see if I can take it.

So you made it this far, dear reader! I did warn you I don’t do brief 😜.

And Now For Something Completely Serious…

If you were here for the first issue, then you know I promised to tell about my brain aneurysm journey from the start. So here we go:

My story begins with hearing loss. No joke. You’d think I was talking about apples and oranges, right? Like, what can one possibly have to do with the other? In my case, though, I only have hearing loss on one side, which isn’t typical, so my doctor sent me for a routine MRI to rule out a tumor as the cause. The insurance-selected radiology center was dark, the carpet wet and squishy underfoot, soaked from the current rainstorm, and ginormous fans swirled the odor of mold. Friggin’ insurance. My expectation for a reliable MRI result was pretty darn low, but the test was just a formality as far as I was concerned. I mentally prepared myself for life with a hearing aid, and pretty much forgot about the whole thing when I left for vacation a few days later. I was still out of the country when I found a place where my cell service kicked in and saw the message that the doctor wanted to see me right away—they’d scheduled an immediate appointment. Well, hell.

With great sympathy, the doctor told me the radiologist had spotted the tiniest dot on the opposite side of my brain from the bad ear. This is what’s known as an “incidental” find, meaning I went to a doctor for something unrelated when they found the aneurysm. Most of us are unaware we have an unruptured aneurysm, so it’s pretty common for them to be discovered “incidentally.”

It was pure luck that the radiologist on duty at the dinky clinic that day was alert and knowledgeable. He ultimately saved my life.

But what is a brain aneurysm? I sure didn’t know.

Stick around for the next issue of Sometimes Snarkastic to find out!!

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