Fireland

I’m fishing with my uncle. We don’t even have poles or a boat or anything, just a 30-pack of Tecate and a pond that looks like it’s time to call the plumber. We’re throwing Pringles in there but they’re not biting.

I ask him why he never had any kids, like kids of his own that would maybe like to go fishing with him, like a real father-son bonding thing? Like instead of making me go?

And he says he got a Texan vasectomy. And I ask him what that is and he says: Marrying an ugly woman.

I drink my seventh beer and suddenly stop caring about whatever this fucking guy is talking about. High school starts in three weeks and that’s when the good life will begin for the kid here.

Being able to post something and get instant feedback is a big deal, and one of the reasons I’m still online after all this time. But, you know: You get twenty thoughtful responses and one crabby ad hominem and you’re going to obsess over the one, not the twenty.

I think that’s why much of what I read online these days feels so defensive. Because the naysayers are always a click away, it’s hard to get them out of your head as you write. So you start fending off potential attacks from imaginary jerks. “Yeah, yeah, I know the Jonas Brothers are lame, but.” “I know you won’t watch this video because no one watches videos on Tumblr.” “I like these socks and I don’t care what you think.”

Merlin begins an otherwise strong piece of writing with: “Yes. Long. Again. Deal. Thanks.” I guarantee he gets more idiotic feedback than all of us combined, but why kick off your essay by acknowledging the haters? Why give them that much attention? A comment like that is meant for a small percentage of readers but 100% of them have to read it before they even know what the post is about. Now I’m on the defensive. Don’t tell me to “deal,” dude. I’m on your side! I’m super nice all day long.

What I try to do is something that Merlin and Gruber talked about on this panel: I target my writing. I imagine an ideal reader. (Carla Gugino in pajama bottoms, smoking a joint.) And I try to get comfortable with the idea that what I’m doing isn’t for everybody, shouldn’t be for everybody, and certainly isn’t for people who would complain because it’s too long.

It’s not easy, and it doesn’t always work, but it helps to have a goal: Don’t weaken my work because of jerks, real or otherwise.