Elizabeth Bear's LJ (RSS Feed)
04-01-2008, 04:00 PM
NB:
For everybody who has missed this the last fifteen times I've said it, I really hate unsolicited advice. Especially condescending unsolicited advice offered by people who don't know me well and who don't know anything about the intersection of me and my art. (Close friends do get a little more leeway, but friends also generally know how I feel about being told what I think, or what is really going on with me, and what I should do about it.)
It is a sure-fire way to get me to tear your head off.
I realize this is a personality flaw. However, it does not appear to be amenable to mitigation, and the only solution I have thought of is to turn off comments in this blog, which I do not want to do.
So do us both a favor, and if you're about to offer me some journeyman-level writing advice or pop psychology that I've probably already thought of, sit on your hands. Go play with your dog. Do something else until the urge passes.
I realize that this is unreasonable and immature of me, but my blog, my rules. I don't need the fucking adrenaline, and I hate yelling at people, and now it's going to take me a goddamned hour to calm down and try to get my mind back on work, which makes me even more frustrated.
(Original Post) (http://matociquala.livejournal.com/1348840.html)
For everybody who has missed this the last fifteen times I've said it, I really hate unsolicited advice. Especially condescending unsolicited advice offered by people who don't know me well and who don't know anything about the intersection of me and my art. (Close friends do get a little more leeway, but friends also generally know how I feel about being told what I think, or what is really going on with me, and what I should do about it.)
It is a sure-fire way to get me to tear your head off.
I realize this is a personality flaw. However, it does not appear to be amenable to mitigation, and the only solution I have thought of is to turn off comments in this blog, which I do not want to do.
So do us both a favor, and if you're about to offer me some journeyman-level writing advice or pop psychology that I've probably already thought of, sit on your hands. Go play with your dog. Do something else until the urge passes.
I realize that this is unreasonable and immature of me, but my blog, my rules. I don't need the fucking adrenaline, and I hate yelling at people, and now it's going to take me a goddamned hour to calm down and try to get my mind back on work, which makes me even more frustrated.
(Original Post) (http://matociquala.livejournal.com/1348840.html)