Just In Case You Think Everybody Loves Me

This quote about me (or at the very least, my writing) that I found out there on Teh Intarweebs:

His writing drips with the unappealing mixture of flop-sweat and legitimate perspiration of someone trying much, much too hard to be clever.

Love it. Putting it in the .sig quote bank as we speak.

26 Comments on “Just In Case You Think Everybody Loves Me”

  1. Not entirely sure this fellow deserves to be inundated by a bunch of Whatever readers merely for expressing a snarky opinion. If the fellow wishes to out himself, he can do so. I’m fairly sure word will travel to him that he’s been quoted.

    Also, of course, if people find out where I found this quote and choose to respond, I would hope they would do so politely.

  2. “His writing drips ”

    See, and I thought that was just excess Squee from the other cool things happening. Yuck. I hope Tide or Surf will get that out.

    I need to get back to writing that macro for all the other good reviews. It’s either that or RMI (repetitive motion injury) therapy.

  3. “Just In Case You Think Everybody Loves Me” Huh? You’ve got us all wrong, John, secretly we hate you, ALL of us. We have meetings, there’s a secret handshake and everything. We’re thinking of having T-shirts printed, but nobody wants to pony up the money.

    “…unappealing mixture of flop-sweat and legitimate perspiration…” Yeah, see THAT’s why your books don’t sell, right there.

  4. changterhune – Before you hear lies from Chang Terhune himself, we thought we’d tell you the truth: without us, his old action figures, he’d be nowhere. He loved science fiction from way back and began reading it at an early age, but it was through us that he acted it all out. That’s what led to the writing. He watched a lot of science fiction shows like Star Trek, U.F.O, and movies, too. But we were always there to do his bidding. And it’s like they say: you always forget about the little people on your way up. Oh, the 70’s and early 80’s with him were good times! He’d use these blocks and make all the crazy buildings for us to be in his stories. I gotta say the kid’s imagination was pretty damn fertile. Oh, he had friends, but they just weren’t into it like him. He was like the Lance Armstrong of action figures. And of science fiction. At first, when he began writing in the eighth grade, we didn’t mind. He still made time for us. And we knew that when he was holding us in his sweaty little hands and he got that far off look in his eye, he’d come back to burying us in the back yard or - god forbid! – blowing us up with firecrackers. But it was worth it for a part in one of those stories. We loved him for it. He kept us around even when we were minus a leg or two - or even a head. In that mind of his, he found a use for all of us. Then he discovered girls. October, 1986. It was like the end of the world. One day we’re standing in the middle of this building block creation he’d pretended was some marble city on a planet near Alpha Centauri and the next we were stuck in a box in the closet. Not even a “See ya later!” Nope, it was into the closet, then we heard some high-pitched girly-giggles then silence. We didn’t see him for years. We got word about him once in a while. Heard he took up writing, but it was crap like “The Breakfast Club” only with better music. We couldn’t believe it. Not Charlie. What happened to those aliens with heads he’d sculpted out of wax? Spaceships? Those complex plots? All gone. For what? You guessed it: Girls. Emotions. “Serious fiction.” I tell you, it was like hearing Elvis had left the building. During our two decade exile in the closet, we heard other things about him. He went to college. He wrote a lot, but not much he really liked. We knew it even then. It was like he didn’t dare write science fiction. Some of us had lost hope and just lay there. Others kept vigil, hoping for a day we didn’t dare speak about. Then we heard he’d stopped writing in 1996. Did he come to reclaim us? No. He took up music for ten years or so. He took up yoga. Once in a while, he’d visit us in the closet. But it was half-hearted. His mind was elsewhere. Then one day, he really did come back for us. One second we’re in the dark and the next thing we know we’re in a car headed for Massachusetts. Suddenly we got a whole shelf to ourselves out in broad daylight! Then he bought a bunch of others form some planet called Ebay. He’d just sit and stare at us with that old look. But why were we suddenly back in the picture? He had a wife now, who didn’t mind that he played with us. So what had happened? Turns out he’d never forgotten about those stories. He’d been thinking about all of us and the stories he’d made up and then remembered he’d been a writer once. From the shelf we could see him typing away. Before long he’s got a whole novel together! Then he’s working on another one. Word is there are two more in the planning stages! Some short stories, too! It’s good to see him using his imagination again. Its good to know he never abandoned us. He returned to his true love of science fiction. We hear the stories are pretty good. Someday we’ll get one of the cats to score us a copy of the manuscript. Man, it’s good to be out of the damn closet! --- I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me
    Chang, father of pangolins

    That rules. I should be so lucky to ever get something like that said about me or my writing. You’ve really arrived.

  5. It seems like he would have done better to pick one kind of badness-sweat and go with it; as it is, I am forced to wonder what the difference is between the sweat types, and how the reviewer was able to separate one from the other.

  6. Just finished OMW (what’s with the OWM abbreviation in the review?) myself. For the second time. Loved it. Both times, though maybe more the second time.

    Itching to read more Scalzi. Very soon.

    So… thanks, man!

  7. Jim Wright, shhh, man. The plans aren’t ready yet. Not all assets are in place, and the tub of mayonaise hasn’t rippened with all the cold weather. Now you’ve tipped him off.

  8. Scalzi sweats?!?

    Hmmm… This is going to change things.

    Dan – yeah – that’s really going to throw off the calculations on skin conductivity. I’d estimate the resistance will be 5 or 10 ohms lower.

  9. People often confuse “popularity” with “being loved by everyone”. It doesn’t work that way.
    In fact, the most popular writers will also, paradoxically, be the most resented.

    Or look at it this way: if you don’t fancy a particular writer’s book but he’s not widely read, you have no reason to resent his success because there isn’t any.

    On the other hand, IF the writer whose book you don’t fancy does get very popular, your sense of cosmic injustice is alerted…

  10. If the fellow wishes to out himself, he can do so.

    Another reason we like you, John — you’ve got class.

    (You guys think that might lull him back to his false sense of security?)

  11. Hmm. A Google search of “flop sweat and legitimate perspiration” turned up nothing but this entry.

    John, did you let your multiple personalities out to play again?

  12. Are you insinuating that Google does not know everything?! Scandalous! Blasphemy! A non-believer! Persecute! Kill the heretic!

    *runs of to gather a mob and outfit it with enough torches and pitchforks*

    Don’t move! I’ll be right back!

  13. Yeah John, what’s up with all this flop sweat everywhere?

    I’ve had to wipe my monitor twice already :)

    (Seriously though, it just sounds like sincere jealousy. Lucky you!)

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