AE has been busy in the past few months. She’s apparently found a schedule that really works for her, and it shows in the writing. Mackenzie’s freshman year was neatly wrapped up, and now Book 2 (Sophomore Effort) is in it’s 5th chapter. So far, the content has been focused back on the characters’ lives, and while there is lots of dialogue, it’s real conversation, instead of the circular arguments that made up the bulk of previous chapters.

Ladies and gentlemen, I believe she’s back. Check it out. :)

Once upon a time, I woke up every morning and read the new chapter of ToMU with my coffee. It was interesting, thought-provoking, funny, sexy, and had a busy forum for discussing what had happened and what might happen next. I was a total fangirl. It was so popular that AE quit her day job and was able to support herself on donations alone.

Then ..something happened. I’m not sure of the exact timeline, but between health problems, moving, getting a boyfriend, becoming a DM for her D&D group, adding a totally new in-universe storyline, and a bunch of other things, she lost the thread. The updates became less frequent and less interesting. What had been chapters full of plot and world-building (with the occasional argument or long conversation) became chapters of repetitive arguments and dull conversations (with the occasional bit of plot or a description of something). Now, even when something interesting happens, it’s buried between bulky paragraphs of Mackenzie and [insert character] discussing/arguing about [insert topic]. I haven’t read a chapter without skimming over at least half of it in months.

In the last 6 months, she has posted 26 new chapters. Despite several posts about how she’s re-worked her schedule to try to recapture the momentum she had 3 years ago, I don’t think ToMU will ever regain what it had. It’s sad, but at this point I think she might be better off if she stopped beating her dead horse and moved on to something she still cares about.

Incidentally, I haven’t had time to keep up with Novelr since I started grad school, but I hope to catch up some day. Keep up the good work!

@foobickles: While you might want to add A.E.’s personal messages to your killfile, I wouldn’t throw out her writing on that basis alone. After all, many great authors have been great annoyances in person. I like her writing, and I suggest that you give it a try; everyone here loves the story, even if we don’t think that it’s absolutely perfect.

Saw that the writer is apparently an egomaniac.

Plonk.

A.E.’s comments to this entry seem to support the absolute statement that she objects to criticism, but this is a single case and not enough data by itself to make that generalization. Her stated Comments Policy on her website (updated since she made her last comment above) would seem to contradict her actions here, giving reason for hope. I was wondering if you could provide enough data to resolve this uncertainty.

Introduction:

Requesting commentary on an ongoing work and then objecting to all of it that says that the writing isn’t perfect (i.e., that it should be written differently) is either rude or arrogant or both. More generally, constructive criticism is part of the inherent right of the reader to have and express an intellectual response to a work, and inevitable, direct attacks in response to the exercise of that right create a chilling effect that is contrary to intellectual freedom and freedom of speech.

Consideration:

I’m not very familiar with A.E.’s dealings with reader responses elsewhere. Does she object to all constructive criticism? (Constructive criticism involves suggestions for improvement; in other words, it’s telling someone how to write.) Does she object to constructive criticism’s existence (rudeness) or merely believe that it is all wrong (arrogance)?

I should also like to point out that A.E. has opened her work up to comment and explicitly allows criticism (c.f. postscript). Of course, an author opening their work up to comment doesn’t mean that they have to accept destructive criticism or outright attacks (“This sucks, the end.”), but to argue against constructive criticism of an ongoing work really does seem to be missing the point of requesting commentary on it as well as being rude to the literary critic who is told that they have nothing to offer.

Also, if A.E. always issues these sorts of attacks in the same space as criticisms of her work, eventually people are going to get fed up and stop bothering to think and comment critically. And if they stop doing it one place, they might not even bother trying in another lest the same thing happen there. As a radical, militant librarian and a staunch advocate of (U.S.) First Amendment rights and freedom from the thought police–the very thing that allows A.E. to write such a work in the first place–I have to object to this sort of thing if she does it on a wide scale. At the very least she should confine most of her responses to her own site and leave the personal attacks out of it.

Postscript:

I would appreciate your further thoughts on this matter. Your description of A.E.’s objections do not comport with her stated Comments Policy, although what people say and what they do are not always identical. (Her response to my criticism above seems to conflict with her own comments policy of “Yes, calling somebody dense, stupid, or close-minded because you’ve been arguing your point with them and they still don’t agree is considered an insult.”) Perhaps I have interpreted your description of her objections too broadly? I certainly hope so.

I would agree with you about the sex scenes. Eli might not, but we’d both agree about wanting more of the array.

Of course, I expect that we’re now going to get into an argument about whether or not she should care about that “wider audience” that is interested in the minority aspects of the text. After all, she’s entirely within her rights to write for a narrow interest group and not try to please everyone . . . but it’s also possible to narrow that interest too far.

Anyone know if A.E. still reads these comments?

To begin with, I should have held back my fuller argument on the timescale because you said that you weren’t going to argue it with me. I let my anger at being told that it was all my own personal flaw get the best of me, and for that I am sorry.

Secondly, I probably need to explain my reference to Two as being “the only character that I can empathize with”: I can understand and have great sympathy for Mack. It hurts to see how she hates herself, and I wish that I could help her. But I do not empathize with her. By contrast, I empathize with Two because I can more directly feel her feelings (as opposed to merely understand them) than I can Mack’s. In many ways Two evokes a less emotional response from me than Mack does, but it is one that is closer to me and that I find to be more compelling in terms of making me want to continue her story. I think that this distinction may not have been clear before and led to some confusion.

Finally, as I have stated before, I do not like being told that my dislike of certain technical and message aspects of the story are entirely my fault. It is true that I am, like most people, not entirely undefensive when I feel attacked or criticized, and like everyone I have personal interests that I may focus on enough to distort their importance to the story. However, please do not take it as an insult if I suggest that, despite my flaws, your writing may not be perfect. I do not believe that you think of yourself as a perfect writer, but your writing is not going to improve if you assume that any criticism of it cannot possibly be its fault. (I would also like to note that I found fault with your writing, whereas you directly attacked me; the latter is certainly the greater and more serious insult.)

I do not wish us to end this discussion on bad terms with each other. I have admitted to not being perfect in my reading, although not so imperfect as you claim, and apologized for pressing an issue that you weren’t willing to argue; I hope that it does not seem arrogant of me if I suggest that you could admit to the possibility that your writing is not perfect and apologize for your attack.