About critique and civility.

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I’ve been thinking of some comments written in my ‘comment section’, and, yes I was less than thrilled. Oh, I’m a big boy now, I can take it, but? To my eyes they are just stories and you neither have to hate nor love them. I mean, it’s not as you’re going to bed them, are you? Most of my stories spring from experiences, either directly or ‘second handed’ through others experiences and life’s, but as for the truth of them? Well, somewhere I expect they have happened, or possibly will, probability alone almost guarantees it. More than that I won't offer.. Anyway, ‘Magic is as magic does’, if I paraphrase myself. And remember that we all have our own definitions of what is a ‘real human being’. ( Mine have never included a mall, even though I can see the fascination of it, reading some of the stories here :)

Still, as I see it, life is truly strange enough without me handing out time tables for when a fiction or fantasy becomes ‘reality’. Some few I catch from dreams too and those can be the really weird ones, but also the ones I might enjoy most writing. I write it as I see it, just as I would expect you to do too if I was reading you. Considering it I can’t help but suspect that my tales touch some people here in really bad ways, even though I fail to see why? Whatever reason there might be, I would still like to point out that when I was asking for critique I was hoping for something that would help me grow as a writer, not people pouring their unresolved frustrations or ridicule on me, disregarding the story totally.

Most of my stories circles around sorrow and redemption and that ‘little fledgling’ nestling in between. You know, that fragile one that keeps on trying against all odds; hope. And for those that say that they haven’t met this ‘sorrow’ I’m talking about? Then, expressed pleasantly even if not entirely truthfully, you should be long overdue. With the exception of sociopaths in which case, of course, truth ceases to have any meaning whatsoever.

For those still wallowing in that quandary I will cite this piece from Oscar Wilde.
He summarizes ‘sorrow’ beautifully.

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“Sorrow, being the supreme emotion of which man is capable, is at once the type and test of all great art. What the artist is always looking for is the mode of existence in which soul and body are one and indivisible: in which the outward is expressive of the inward: in which form reveals. . .

Behind joy and laughter there may be a temperament, coarse, hard and callous. But behind sorrow there is always sorrow. Pain, unlike pleasure, wears no mask. Truth in art is not any correspondence between the essential idea and the accidental existence; it is not the resemblance of shape to shadow, or of the form mirrored in the crystal to the form itself; it is no echo coming from a hollow hill, any more than it is a silver well of water in the valley that shows the moon to the moon and Narcissus to Narcissus. Truth in art is the unity of a thing with itself: the outward rendered expressive of the inward: the soul made incarnate: the body instinct with spirit. For this reason there is no truth comparable to sorrow. There are times when sorrow seems to me to be the only truth. Other things may be illusions of the eye or the appetite, made to blind the one and cloy the other, but out of sorrow have the worlds been built, and at the birth of a child or a star there is pain.

More than this, there is about sorrow an intense, an extraordinary reality. I have said of myself that I was one who stood in symbolic relations to the art and culture of my age. There is not a single wretched man in this wretched place along with me who does not stand in symbolic relation to the very secret of life. For the secret of life is suffering. It is what is hidden behind everything. When we begin to live, what is sweet is so sweet to us, and what is bitter so bitter, that we inevitably direct all our desires towards pleasures, and seek not merely for a ‘month or twain to feed on honeycomb,’ but for all our years to taste no other food, ignorant all the while that we may really be starving the soul.–De Profundis.”
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There are no perfect ‘human’ role models as far as I’m concerned, neither does there exist any iron-cast definition of what a man or a woman is, even though there are differences ‘of mind’ as well as of the body. And neither am I interested in defaming anyone. That people will have their own personal ideals is an all together different proposition, not applicable to generalization, at least not as I see it. Most of us have some sort of ideals but those won’t cover all, they are specific to whomever holding them. Furthermore, I don’t expect there to exist any ‘perfect tale’ satisfying all. In the end it all comes down to your own choice of living or, if you like, taste. But that needn’t stop us from being civil, does it? Seeing those comments I can only conclude that I’ve stepped on some truly sore toes without me even knowing.

Which does leave me disappointed.

Comments

I don't believe I've yet commented on your writing...

Andrea Lena's picture

...however it does sadden me that you rightly feel disappointed by some of the comments you have received. You're absolutely correct in your assessment about role models, "ideals" and it truly is a matter of taste. I'm thankful for your writing; it is novel and creative, and has garnered more than a few fans already. I hope we can keep civility in mind for everyone's sake, and I am truly sorry that it became necessary for you to remind us once again that we need to remember that before we hit the submit button. All my best to your, dear one.

She was born for all the wrong reasons but grew up for all the right ones.
Possa Dio riccamente vi benedica, tutto il mio amore, Andrea

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Thank you

Thanks Andrea, I do try :)

And whatever happens, I still find this to be my favorite site when it comes to taste and humanity. And I'm no paragon of virtue either I'm afraid. I will stumble, and somewhere I will get you mad at me too, ah, hopefully not though ::))

So, just needed to get it of my chest, sort of.

Yor.

(I usually take it out on my keyboard instead, that's why my 'o':s sometimes disappear, the tangent wants to fall off)

Huh?

The title of your blog would indicate someone, or several, have been uncivil to you. While this happens from time to time, it is rare - thankfully.

I went through each comment you have received -- searching for these acid dripping missles and found -- nothing.

Have they been deleted?

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

A barbed question :) Depends

A barbed question :)
Depends on how you view it Angela.

I found it uncivil, you might not.
And I've written my piece, and as I said, got it of my chest.

Ever heard the tale about the two monks?

They had made a vow never to touch a woman but as they were crossing the ford they found a old lady unable to cross as the stream was quite strong. One monk walked right over, the other one stopped to carry her on his back over the ford.

As he let her down they continued their journey. After a while the first monk asked him.

"Brother why did you break your vow."

"Why do you still carry her, I left her at the ford."

Don't know if it's the correct interpretation of the tale, it's been quite some time since I read it. But the meaning is simple to me.

Sometimes you need to get things 'of your chest'. That doesn't mean that you need to carry them with you after you've done that. And that includes discussing who did what.

It's okay if you don't like what I wrote. As I say we all have different ideals and outlooks.

Cheers
Yor.

This Site Has Enough Trouble. . .

. . .without people inventing it.

When you get "something" off your chest, that's great -- unless you plop it right down on someone else's.

Nearly everyone who commented took the time to tell you how wonderful they think they (your stories) are. Yet, each of the commentors might be asking themself if they, somehow, in your "interpretation", offended you.

I've read one of your stories and I'll not comment on it or any of your other things for fear your thin skin would pop open. That's too bad for you because I actually like the story I read.

Now that's okay -- because that's between you and me, and you probably don't care what I think. But when you blog you nurture ideas. When those ideas are that people should be unduly careful when they comment -- that impedes the whole process.

Those of us who like comments would just as soon people not be impeded.

I'm against negative comments and have a long history as such. I'm equally against unwarranted attacks on those who comment.

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Sorry Angela.

Angela. I was disappointed and I said so. As for the trouble you talk about? I don't know anything about that. I see this as one of the best sites I've seen on the net? Probably the best. 'Thin skins' as you call it is like pain.

Everyone have their own scale. That's why hospitals let you make a subjective evaluation from a scale of 1 to 10. I found it disappointing, and i thought about it for quite some time before writing this. But it seems as if this was a 'hotter' subject than i thought? Will you accept that I meant this site no slight by writing it?

As for if you like or don't like my stories? That's up to you, not me. I do write them, but I can't guarantee that you, or anyone else for that sake, will like them. 'Beauty', or whatever you might deem my works as, will always be in the eye of the beholder.

And I've been reminiscent, I will check your stories out. Judging by the way you write I'm expecting to have some fiery joy reading you.

Yor.