***Second mini-rant***
I appreciate authors. So much. Authors have given me hours and hours of reading pleasure. That "pleasure" often resulted in tears and sorrow, mirth and laughter, fear and tension, or sighs and heartthrobs. Novels are king - and queen! They tackle it all. A few come off profound. A few stick around for a long time. A few annoy for various reasons. And, yes, a few bore mercilessly.
Since I write novels, I know how important affirmation becomes. How some meaningful responses reward my efforts and work my emotions. I also know how unfavorable words cut to the core of who I am. Depending on who they come from and how they're expressed determines how deeply the wound is slashed. It's the way it is with me. However, I don't expect readers to "pretend" they like a book when they don't.
Just so you know, if you're a published author and I take the time to send you an email expressing how much I enjoyed your book, I mean it. I don't have an agenda other than to let you know your story was a hit with me. And if I make the effort to contact you, chances are the novel was a big hit with me. I do this for two reasons: I would greatly appreciate hearing how much someone enjoyed my work, and if you have the time to engage in a mutual discussion of writing, I'm in. If not, fine. But, please don't condescend to me and wish me "luck" with my "writing career" as if you're afraid I'm going to be a pest and plague you with emails.
Don't ever wish me "luck". I don't believe in "luck". I happen to hate the expression: "Good luck!" It's meaningless, filler, generic, "I don't know what else to say", and hope this satisfies. Luck is a fabricated nothingness attached to bad or good things. The only time I use the word luck is when I say "Good luck with that" meaning it ain't gonna happen, baby. How 'bout "warm thoughts"? Really? What is warm about thoughts? We might wish to transpose warmth to thoughts across the e-waves or miles or wherever, but, sorry, thoughts are invisible creations in our minds and although if expressed might raise our temperatures, I'd rather be wished "baking bread in the oven" or "fresh alfalfa" because at least then my sense of smell will conjure up their lovely aromas.
I'm sorry. Snipey, huh?
Humility. Just show me humility. Please?
Father, I know. Sometimes I confess people get to me. Your patience is beyond what I can imagine. Thank you for using it with me. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.