Well, that's not exactly what was said to me, but it was close, and I've heard it before. I always imagine that it's said in one of those dramatic, old cartoon villain voices.
This time, it was said by Paul Haines (paulhaines) and while I like Haines, he's way off on this one. So, in fact, is everyone who says this, and this is my expanded reply to Haines here in this post. Where I pause, and have a quick look around at all the things I've torn down and tossed out. I mean, sure the death of the Aurealis Awa--
Oh, shit. That still exists.
Well, all those shit authors I can't stand and who pump out repetitive, bland wastes are no longer in--
Fuck, they're still around too. They sell their novels to mainstream publishers. They get published in this country. A whole bunch of them are probably in that new Jack Dann anthology, the one that is designed to showcase Australian authors. Hmm. I'm not in it. In fact, I didn't even get an invite. Dann doesn't who the fuck I am, but he knows who they are. In fact, just to push this point a little more, I even went as far as to request to submit, a week before the deadline, and with nothing written. I didn't wait till then, I just didn't know the book existed until then. I could've got ego burned about it, but I didn't, and so I took a hasty shot. Lets just say my churned out shit is pretty identifiable, or maybe someone just doesn't think I'm a fucking genius, which, oh fuck, I think I shall weep now.
Well, at least I have my fame and millions of doll--
I hate you.
Every. Fucking. Single. One. Of. You.
Look, it's called reality. If you think I'm tearing things down, get some. Nothing has been torn down. Nothing has stopped existing. I say what I want to say and do you know what happens? The world keeps fucking spinning. This breeding pool scene with no real readership keeps fucking existing. People who write shit keep writing their shit. Sometimes, they even get congratulated for it. Sometimes, it's by people I even like and respect, which means that I send disappointed smiley faces to them, and say, "Do you know that the dead baby Jesus is crying now?" and then we laugh, cause it's not really very important. Like something, dislike something, it's all part of the human condition. Both opinions are always valid.
Dissent and alternative opinions are good. It creates a healthy attitude, at least, in theory. No one ever mentions the whiny people who run around like Chicken Little, afraid that their tiny, unimportant issues might be falling down--but that's how it always is. Anyone on the wrong side of a bit of group think is always going to tell you what a good thing it is. This is because they want their own group, and it's true, I am looking for acolytes. Please, leave a comment, if you would like to join me. As you might notice, I'm not interested in awards. Not interested in egos. I'm not interested in hanging round cons and having that con experience. I'm not interested in the same people buying and not reading my work. I'm not interested in staring dreamily at American markets. What I'm interested in is literature. I don't care where it comes from. I don't care who wrote it. Who published it. What genre it is. All it has to do is connect with me. It has to not make me feel like I'm treading water and reading the same thing I've read a million times. It has to make me feel like the author likes words, likes pages, likes books, and isn't just trying to create something invisible, bland, idiotic, and which they hope will make a good movie.
And you know what else?
I like to talk about it. The good, the bad, the boring. All of it.
So, the next time anyone feels the urge to go on about how I'm destroying things, how I'm building my career on the back of my peers--firstly, you all ain't my peers, and secondly, I have no fucking career worth as much as a hand of shit--I urge you all to take a breath, pause, and think.
And if after that, you still think I'm tearing down things?