Pinterest will stay up indefinitely, as will sherisavillbooks.com (redirects to the site you are on now) and mudboogercow.com. Tara Febreze and Vageena too. Redirects, they're called. People wrote nice notes below in the comments, but let's please not "forget" or "ignore" the real REASON (one main one, and he knows what he did -- "we WILL ...") … [CLICK FOR THE FULL WTF]
FROM THE SECRET COLLABORATION / SECRET PROJECT FOLDER
BLOG POST THAT GOT ME REPORTED AS A “SPAMMER”
[NOTE: This is the “try to report Sheri as a spammer after signing up twice on her blog to get her posts” post. The post that triggered some sort of rage, apparently.]
You know — or should by now — that I don’t do the “fake author persona” thing at all. Where you have one face on your website and posts on FB, etc., and another in private or whatever, running around doing secret shit as some other “persona.” I’m just not that way. I’m the one Sheri, same in chat, messages, email, on the phone, on the blog. If you meet me in Starbucks for a latte, I am EXACTLY the way I sound and act online. No difference whatsoever.
It’s fine for others, I guess, to pretend to be one thing out front (“Hi everyone! Today I have a cover reveal!”) and another behind the scenery (I mean VERY different), although I totally eye-roll on it myself. Seems dishonest to me to be this “author”-face to sell books and interact with readers, and with other authors, PUBLICLY, but then be entirely different elsewhere. Like a split personality or something.
My real-life long-time friend (lawyer, of course) said I should write here today, generally, about some things that have me very angry. To vent. And possibly to put people on notice that I won’t tolerate a few things.
I. Do what you promise to do. Failing that, at least have the guts to explain why you did a shockingly weird about-face.
To me, a person’s actions need to match up with their words — consistently. No excuses. I was led on, told something very specific would happen, and then, after a year or more, with me thinking this would happen, it turned out, no, it wasn’t ever gonna happen. No intention of it ever happening, from the start. WTF? Why not just TELL ME? I would much rather have known from the start. BE HONEST. No biggie.
So that was the first bad thing. Don’t tell me THIS WILL HAPPEN over and over for months and months and months — even when I would ask and check to see “Is it still gonna happen?” and get the same answer, “OH YES DEFINITELY!” every time — and then suddenly confess, “No, I never do that.” It pulled the rug out from under me, big-time. Shocking. To make it worse, I dared to question the complete reversal, and the person went silent and ignored my simple questions (requiring only yes and no answers). “Did you not say you would …?” Ignored. Acted like they didn’t even READ it.
Well, that’s dishonest as HELL. It’s childish and creepy. It makes you feel a bit “gaslighted.” Look it up. If I ask a close “online friend” a simple, direct, question and I’m met with “none of your business!” or otherwise given the cold shoulder, or worse, ignored, then by my definition we’re not really “friends.” We’re barely acquaintances. Why not be adult and discuss things in email? I don’t get it.
Has the Facebook “friend” phenomenon completely gutted the word “friend”?
II. Secret Secrets. Authors being asshats.
And what the fuck is up with this ridiculous, intelligence-insulting, secrecy crap among authors and WIP –(works in progress) — especially among those who are supposedly “friends”? (And worse “close” friends. Pfft.)
I mean, if I see someone ask — publicly, several times, how something is “done” in e-publishing/writing, and then they announce loudly they’re going ahead and DOING IT (again, they say this publicly, in an act of shameless and self-interested promo, no less) and THEN they tell me to fuck right off when I ask a simple question about the exact same thing in private? WTF? And then play the victim-card and insult me while saying smarmy-like, in an email, that “we can be friends anytime”? Huh? Mixed message much?
III. It’s just pulp fiction.
Ho. Lee. Shit. This writing gig, and all the “rankings” and “sales”? “Top Amazon 100.” Who fucking cares?
Um, newsflash: This is not a not a cure for cancer. You’re not Shakespeare. Neither am I. You can call it “romance” or whatever. Lighten the fuck up! For many authors, this is (apparently) all about money. And you know what money makes people do. BAD THINGS.
I don’t care to have 98% of the general “author” community as “friends” if money is their be-all and end-all, above “friendship,” above honesty with “friends.”