I received an odd compliment...
May. 4th, 2006 12:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
capri0mniAt the most recent Art Garden. After the show was over, while writers and audience members milled around chatting, a woman came up to me and congratulated me on the poem I'd done for the evening (that's not the bit that's odd).
And then she told me that her most favorite piece of mine was the one about the clapping therapist. I looked at her, and looked at a fellow Art Garden author with whom I was chatting, and looked at her again, and informed her that I have never written anything about a clapping therapist. She insisted I had, I repeated that I had not. This went back and forth a few times, and I was starting to get annoyed, thinking that she was probably remembering some other writer, at some other literary event who just happened to also have dark brown hair and use a wheelchair (the old "they all look alike" syndrome).
So I took a deep breath and asked her when this was, and what the the theme was. She said she couldn't remember much, but it had a therapist in it, and she was clapping. I insisted, again, that I had never written about any of my therapists (the editor of the Art Garden really wishes I would write more autobiographical stuff, but I like fairytales, better). She then admitted that it might not have been a therapist, but it was some authority figure, and she had clapped just once (I'd been envisioning some sort of applause).
That's when the lightbulb clicked above my head. "Oh, you mean the piece I wrote for 'Driving'!" (It had a driving instructor in it, in the beginnig, and she did clap, just once. But the piece was about my recurring nightmares/dreams).
"Yes! That's the one! I laughed so hard when I heard that, I never heard the rest of it. That piece was my favorite!"
So... errr... okay.
Not exactly a left-handed compliment, because she meant it in all sincerity. But really, it's a little off-putting when someone tells me (without the tiniest whiff of embarassment) that she stopped listening a quarter of the way in, and completely missed the point.
And then she went off to talk to someone else. The other author who was standing there looked at me, and said: "I had no idea what piece was talking about either."
And I did that piece several years ago. If that's her favorite among my work, I wonder how much of anything she's really hearing. She's probably someone who just wants to hear the humor and silliness, and filters out anything darker or more complex.
Oh well. I just thought it was odd.
And then she told me that her most favorite piece of mine was the one about the clapping therapist. I looked at her, and looked at a fellow Art Garden author with whom I was chatting, and looked at her again, and informed her that I have never written anything about a clapping therapist. She insisted I had, I repeated that I had not. This went back and forth a few times, and I was starting to get annoyed, thinking that she was probably remembering some other writer, at some other literary event who just happened to also have dark brown hair and use a wheelchair (the old "they all look alike" syndrome).
So I took a deep breath and asked her when this was, and what the the theme was. She said she couldn't remember much, but it had a therapist in it, and she was clapping. I insisted, again, that I had never written about any of my therapists (the editor of the Art Garden really wishes I would write more autobiographical stuff, but I like fairytales, better). She then admitted that it might not have been a therapist, but it was some authority figure, and she had clapped just once (I'd been envisioning some sort of applause).
That's when the lightbulb clicked above my head. "Oh, you mean the piece I wrote for 'Driving'!" (It had a driving instructor in it, in the beginnig, and she did clap, just once. But the piece was about my recurring nightmares/dreams).
"Yes! That's the one! I laughed so hard when I heard that, I never heard the rest of it. That piece was my favorite!"
So... errr... okay.
Not exactly a left-handed compliment, because she meant it in all sincerity. But really, it's a little off-putting when someone tells me (without the tiniest whiff of embarassment) that she stopped listening a quarter of the way in, and completely missed the point.
And then she went off to talk to someone else. The other author who was standing there looked at me, and said: "I had no idea what piece was talking about either."
And I did that piece several years ago. If that's her favorite among my work, I wonder how much of anything she's really hearing. She's probably someone who just wants to hear the humor and silliness, and filters out anything darker or more complex.
Oh well. I just thought it was odd.
