Yeah, I’ve said it, too.
Oh…that book is my baby.
But I don’t exactly mean it. At least not the way I think some mean it.
My books are my work. My babies are my life.
Insult my writing, tear it apart in a review, attack it, I might have a knee-jerk WTF moment, but then I’m going to shrug and move on to the next book.
Insult my kids, tear them apart, attack them-either verbally or otherwise-there will be hell to pay.
Nah, I don’t think any writer out there really means that book she wrote means the same thing to her that her child does. *Could be wrong. * I don’t think anybody is going to smile blithely if the mama in her sees her kids being ripped apart even the writer in her can’t shrug and go oh, well over the book being subjected to the same.
I don’t have the same instinct to protect my craft that I do to protect my kids. My writing, as much as it means to me, if I had to talk away from it tomorrow, for whatever reason, I’d make myself do it. It would be hard, I’d try to compromise, but if there was no other alternative, I’d do it.
Yes, the stories are creations of mine. Yes, they came from within me. Yes, I labor and sweat over them
I also labor and sweat over my kids. Yes, physically my kids came from within me. But they are a creation of love-gifts, actually. Given to me and my husband. Some priceless. Something precious. Could I walk away from them? Not if my life depended on it. I’d make no compromise.
Writing is definitely a labor of love, much like motherhood. The gift of writing is definitely a gift-I also see motherhood as a gift.
But the gift of children is infinitely more precious for me than the ability to put words on paper. And that’s coming from somebody who absolutely adores being able to create stories.
Inspired by the many WTF moments I’ve had when I’ve read comments along the lines of…Yeah, I can understand the author getting upset over a bad review-it’s her baby. It would be like calling her kid ugly or stupid. Because for me? It’s not the same thing. Not even in the same universe. But that’s my universe. Other writers may inhabit another one and that’s totally up to them.
Happy Mama’s Day, Mamas.
Image found via CHADLOVINWOMAN’s photobucket page.