I found out about reviews early on. They're mostly written by sad men on bad afternoons. That's probably why I'm less angry than some writers who are so narcissistic they consider every line of every review even a thoughtful one as major treason.
I don't write under the ghost of Faulkner. I live in the same town and find...
I had never felt so lonely and so sad in my entire life.
The very winds whispered in soothing accents and maternal Nature bade me weep no more.