Strangely Naked

Now that I've gotten your attention . . . . .

Strangers across the country read my books. Strangers across the WORLD read my books--they've been translated into Italian, Spanish, German, Greek, Dutch, and others. I get emails from readers in every state--as well as hearing from people in Europe--and even Japan. They are always--and I mean always--lovely and warm and kind. Which is very cool.

But I recently heard from an old friend, who said she was reading one of my books. And I periodically get emails from people from high school or other points in my life, people I am no longer in touch with, who spotted one of my books and are now reading it. Which is also cool. But it does feel weird.

I stopped Googling myself ages ago. I cannot even begin to tell you the mixture of very nice comments, nasty ones occasionally, and outright odd statements--just weird things people write about in this era of blogs and YouTube--like in one case someone writing into a pretty well-known blog that there was a typo on my cover that guess what? Doesn't exist. So this person is IMAGINING a major typo on my cover. AND feeling compelled to blog about it. How bizarre is that? Or occasionally someone will just write the most nasty comment about one of my books--but it veers into an almost personal attack. I can tell you, I don't ever react that way to books (unless written by Anne Coulter--but then again, I wouldn't buy her book). I know one blog where this aspiring writer, unpublished, just analyzes book after book--which 99% of the time she despises and picks apart and is rude about. I mean just nasty. Yet . . . I wonder . . . is SHE any good? Who knows? But the thing is, none of these people know me, and I guess I like it that way. They can comment on this person, this "author"--that they will never meet. If I knew then what I know now, I would have taken a pen name throughout my career.

But friends and relatives? I imagine them combing my books for hints of my real life and things they know about me. It feels strangely naked. I don't go to therapy--but my books are sometimes therapeutic. But would you really want people reading your shrink's notes?

So, am I the only one who feels this way? Is it hard to share your work with friends and family? Or are strangers worse? If you're unpubbed, do you have no problem entering a contest, but don't want your mom to read your work?

Curious minds want to know.