It's interesting, isn't it, just how depressing uncritical praise can be?
And the opposite can be equally unnerving. I once made the mistake of telling a straight friend of mine (who was always eager to read my nonfiction essays) about a story I'd published. When I told her about it, I didn't even think about the fact that it contained a lesbian sex scene (totally tasteful and full of redeeming social value, of course, but still.) Even if I had remembered the scene, I probably would have mentioned the story anyway, because my friend never seemed uncomfortable with my orientation. But wow. Was she offended by the story. She told me stiffly and coldly, in clipped tones and with no eye contact, that she was sorry, but she could say nothing whatever about the piece -- because she was not a fan of science fiction. Well, this last was an excuse, of course, since a) the story was only very vaguely SF, and b) one doesn't need to be a fan a particular genre in order to offer a comment about an example of it. And this woman is a literature professor; she obviously knows more than many people about the craft of writing, whatever the genre. But obviously, SF wasn't the point; she was upset by other things.
I realized then that it had been unfair of me to tell her about the story -- I was imposing on her. It was not the sort of thing she would have ever chosen to read on her own, and I unwittingly put her in a difficult position by making it virtually impossible for her *not* to read it. I learned my lesson, though -- just because someone knows me personally does not necessarily mean they are going to want to read what I write. So I don't tell people now. If they find my stuff on their own and choose to read it, it will be because they wanted to, not because I more or less made them.
no subject
And the opposite can be equally unnerving. I once made the mistake of telling a straight friend of mine (who was always eager to read my nonfiction essays) about a story I'd published. When I told her about it, I didn't even think about the fact that it contained a lesbian sex scene (totally tasteful and full of redeeming social value, of course, but still.) Even if I had remembered the scene, I probably would have mentioned the story anyway, because my friend never seemed uncomfortable with my orientation. But wow. Was she offended by the story. She told me stiffly and coldly, in clipped tones and with no eye contact, that she was sorry, but she could say nothing whatever about the piece -- because she was not a fan of science fiction. Well, this last was an excuse, of course, since a) the story was only very vaguely SF, and b) one doesn't need to be a fan a particular genre in order to offer a comment about an example of it. And this woman is a literature professor; she obviously knows more than many people about the craft of writing, whatever the genre. But obviously, SF wasn't the point; she was upset by other things.
I realized then that it had been unfair of me to tell her about the story -- I was imposing on her. It was not the sort of thing she would have ever chosen to read on her own, and I unwittingly put her in a difficult position by making it virtually impossible for her *not* to read it. I learned my lesson, though -- just because someone knows me personally does not necessarily mean they are going to want to read what I write. So I don't tell people now. If they find my stuff on their own and choose to read it, it will be because they wanted to, not because I more or less made them.