Seanan McGuire (seanan_mcguire) wrote,
Seanan McGuire
seanan_mcguire

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The lines of interaction.

Common wisdom among authorial circles says "do not respond to reviews." I consider this a mantra, and practically have it cross-stitched on my living room wall. Good review? Happiness. Bad review? Sadness. Review which bears no resemblance whatsoever to the book I wrote, leading me to wonder where the reviewer gets their books, since if they have a dimensional portal, I want to borrow it? Bewilderment. But nowhere in there do you find a class of review that comes with "engage reviewer and either look smug or bitch about how they don't understand your genius."

I will respond to reviewers, if we have a relationship, however casual it may be. The majority of the reviews I link to are found by my helpful Google spiders, which skitter around the Internet bringing me things without concern for my feelings. I tell them they're good and feed them lots of flies. Some reviews, however, come to me because the reviewer emails me directly to say "I reviewed your book." In those cases, I feel entirely justified in replying, privately, with "Wow, I'm glad you liked it," or "I'm sorry this wasn't your cup of tea, hopefully the next book will suit you better." Because we're in a private setting, interacting like people, as long as I'm polite, I'm okay.

The lines start to get a little blurry when newer forms of social media come into play. Like Twitter. If someone @'s me, they know I'm going to see their Tweet the next time I check my @replies. That's the culture of the system, which is built on the expectation of/hope for interaction. I don't answer every @reply, but I make an effort to read them all, and answer the majority. So am I responding to a review, or am I sticking to the dominant culture of the platform? What about on Facebook, where people tag to your profile? They know that doing so will send you a notification. Is that an invitation to interact, or is it a sad reality of the system?

Miss Manners never had to deal with being a polite, professional working author in the Internet Age. I think that's why she doesn't have any pointers for certain kinds of behavior, and why she never considers "get a baseball bat" to be the appropriate beginning to a polite response.

So where are the lines for you? What do you think is the boundary for "polite" authorial behavior—and from the other side, what's the boundary for behaving politely toward authors? Inquiring minds want to know.
Tags: contemplation
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I think the amount of response that you're willing to make here on your blog is astonishing. I don't know other authors who pull that off. I think you reply to most of the comments that I've made, and I wouldn't mind at all if you were unable to because of other commitments/general lack of time and energy.

I've posted reviews here in the past because you enjoy them, and so far, I haven't met a book of yours that I haven't liked. But I wouldn't ever expect you to respond to those. In academic publishing, the standard for reviews is that we generally send the positive ones both to the author of the book, and the press, because we know they'll appreciate seeing them. The negative ones, we don't. I can't imagine going to an author to say "Look, I pissed all over your book in my review!" I mean, authors know that bad reviews happen. But rubbing their nose in a bad review is the height of rudeness.
That is an excellent approach to the topic of reviews.
Behavior Towards Authors: My Golden Rule of Internet Interaction: the Good Fairy Version

1. Remember that all people you interact with are real people (even if they Are Authors)

2. Remember that real people have real feelings (even Authors, who being artists, I've sadly noticed can trend towards the hypersensitive; most published authors I've interacted with to some degree have toughened up, but by no means all of them have.)

3. Remember that those real feelings can be really hurt.

4. If you wouldn't feel comfortable saying it in front of your mom or your boss or someone you'd like to be your boss, don't say it. Period. Because your mom, your boss, or someone who you'd like to be your boss may very well read it.

I get that this can be hard, given that a lot of people don't seem to get that people who are standing in front of them, breathing the same air and looking them in the eye, are real people with real feelings, so disembodied text must seem more abstract and less "real" still, but it remains the case that anyone--even an author (which rather like college professors and teachers, people REALLY don't seem to get that writers aren't magical typing programs in the sky)--is a real person. Who has real feelings. That doesn't mean you need to suck up but it does mean you should try to be polite.

Behavior By Authors: Alicia's Golden Rule of Internet Interaction: The Lawyer Fairy Version

1. Remember that the internet is forever and ever and ever and ever (especially when...)

2. Remember that anything you say or do online can and will be forwarded to dozens and dozens and dozens of people, recopied, reposted, and cached for the future enjoyment of still others, all of whom will judge you ENTIRELY based on it because they have nothing else to go on (and even if they did, they may not care).

3. Remember that if you wouldn't feel comfortable with your mother, your boss, or someone you'd like to impress reading what you wrote, you probably shouldn't say it.

4. Remember that the only thing people absolutely love more than a hero is to watch that hero take a big, nasty fall so we can point, laugh, and then feel superior.

I think its super cool that Teh Interwebz lets me interact to some degree with authors whose work I really enjoy. But I will probably not enjoy an author anymore if they demonstrate that they're A Jerk, because I'm judgmental like that. And I'm not alone. The flip side of that of course is that if you are a polite dear, I am likely to give something of yours I'm not as crazy about a bit more of a pass, and if you make a simple request of your readers--such as "see this charity thing I am doing? It would be totally awesome if you'd support it."--then I am MUCH, MUCH more likely to do so, because like most people I like to help people I like.

You've always been really good about that, which has earned you Respect in my book.
These are fabulous rules.

I try to be good about things, I really do. I know full well that the Internet is forever, and well. I want to be well-behaved enough that if I have a day where I snap and start screaming, people will forgive me a little more than they otherwise might.
Thank you. And that's an excellent point; people are more likely to forgive someone who acts out of character once or twice than they are someone whose character is just bad.

I spent three months doing my legal internship at a firm that did employment and banking. I divided my time between the two, so I spent, what, six weeks or so in each.

Even in that little time--a tiny snapshot in time for a profession where a single matter can drag on for years or decades--I still saw cases in BOTH categories (employment I expected; banking was a surprise) that involved stuff said on the internet coming out as ammunition, when the speakers thought they were anonymous (or at least speaking in private, or assuming nobody but their buddies would read it even though it wasn't protected), getting dragged through the legal system. It was serious food for thought; I always thought you should be polite online because I was taught to be polite and to respect the impact your words can have (I have often goofed up on this score, but I try), but I didn't fully appreciate just how problematic the net can be for saving EVERYTHING until I spent hours digging up things party opponents said so that their words could be flung back at them in deposition or at trial.
I truly wish more people understood that the Internet is forever, and made an effort not to say things they'd regret.
One of the things I've learned reading your blog for the last few years is how to be a better fan. I deeply appreciate your willingness to share your feelings about being "known" from the small community of filk to the much larger community of being an award winning published writer. I will hate it if you become too busy to blog, even if I understand. As a reader and commenter on your LJ I'm touched that you try to acknowledge every post.

I would also say that because you are publicly sensible and sensitive even when you are cranky, I would forgive you a lot before I stopped following your work. From my point of view you have one or two massive public mistakes available to you, but I doubt you will ever make them--you're too good.

I too started with your music, moved to your blogs, your posted short stories and, based on those items, bought your first book without blinking. And every book since.

Awesome. :)
Exactly this, to the letter.
I see polite behavior toward authors as following about the same rules you'd use for being polite towards anyone else. This for me includes not going out of my way to advertise taht I didn't like a book. If I like one, I'll talk it up to friends, and on occasion post about it online (mostly I don't due to laziness). I won't put up a bad review - since I'm not a professional reviewer, there's no reason for me to talk about something I disliked, and it doesn't seem very nice to shout "Hey, I didn't like this!" on the internet. Besides, I'd much rather focus on the latest shiny thing I did like.

I'm not sure what I think on the subject of authors responding to reviews. As far as general internet courtesy/boundaries, I think you keep a good balance. I've been pleasantly surprised with how responsive you are to comments on here, and I'm fairly sure that Kay and I are more loyal readers because you connect with us on a more personal level as well as writing kick-ass fiction. This does mean that we occasionally have to work to keep from having too much of a fannish SQUEE! reaction when we interact with you online or in person. :)
It's interesting, really. I won't negatively review a book unless I found it personally offensive on a level that has to be articulated, but I'm not a reviewer. If I were, I'd feel obligated to do negative reviews (then again, I like almost everything...).

You have never been inappropriately squealy. :)
I don't twitter so I don't understand that part of the equation very well but would it be possible to respond to the @s with a very short generic reply so as to not be rude or very time consuming. I always appreciate the fact that you respond to my comments on LJ though I certainly don't expect it and I think that just a note to say you read the message would be suitable without taking it as a direct invitation for continued dialogue.
That's what I often default to, yeah.
I completely adore it when an author whose work I love replies to me. However, I don't think that I have any right to expect it. I found one favorite author on Facebook--and did not friend her because she politely asks on her information that only people she is already personally close to friend her. I'm a wee bit disappointed, but not angry. When Neil Gaiman replied to me in twitter, I bounced all over the room like Tigger. (Admittedly I also do this when I have too much sugar and caffeine. Which I can't say I had at the time, but the odds are not in fact against it.)
So Neil Gaiman = a caffeinated cupcake. Check. What does that make me?
Huh. My first thoughts, influenced by the smell of dinner currently in the oven, are these: Diet Dr. Pepper at 2AM convention time, slow cooked ribs with corn free barbecue sauce, tea and chocolate covered ginger cookies, brain cupcakes.

I'm not sure I should consider people in terms of edible analogues, but now I cannot immediately stop. I think the nearby children rate as strong, fizzy lemonade. Some of my co-workers are awesome, but others are outdated Wal Mart generic cookies. Hmm.

:pokes oven impatiently:
Maaaaaaaaaaybe you should eat, honey.
:snort chuckle: My housemate says she tells me that on a regular basis. And that she will face the new books out if she can get a cookie.
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