I’ve been depressed (reason why this blog post is late)—I can’t quite explain why, I just know that I woke up one morning a few days ago under a cloud: black, smothering, seemingly inescapable. Maybe it’s because we have a chronically ill dog and she’s been having a bad week. Pilling her, feeding her has been difficult and time-consuming. I’m time-constrained, anxious and impatient as a result. And she’s wetting herself. Not her fault but frustrating, nonetheless. And messy given her coat very nearly reaches the floor (they’re both getting haircuts on Friday).

Or maybe it’s a kind of post partum depression. The book’s out in the world doing its thing and I’m here: mute, wordless, powerless, feeling beside the point.

Then again maybe it was the bad review. It didn’t bother me so much that the reviewer didn’t like the book it was that the review was kind of mean-spirited. And I hate meanness. I’m a lot of things but never mean.

Already on the edge of depression I tumbled into the abyss.

This morning I got up 45 minutes late—because I just couldn’t gather the strength to face another day. Finally I dragged myself out of bed and upstairs. Instead of getting in the shower, I booted up my computer (another attempt to avoid the day). And there unexpectedly I found a blogpost, from an independent publisher/reader in the UK. It was a stunning review of my book. In it she quoted a scene where one character talks to another about being a writer. In truth, I’d forgotten that particular passage. Rereading it, reminded me that I am a writer, why I write, that though words may have left me temporarily, they will be back. She wrapped up by saying, “Larry Benjamin I salute you. You are fabulous!”

Now what gay guy doesn’t thrill to the words “you are fabulous?” I found myself smiling for the first time in days. Not because she loves the book (well that too) but because she took the time to read the book and say a few kinds words to me. A simple enough gesture maybe, but as a writer, I’ve found reading, requires effort, a commitment on the reader’s part, a certain leap of faith that what you wrote will be worth his or her time. Sharing your work is easier, I think, if you sing or dance, or paint. Engaging with the artist requires less effort, a more fleeting commitment. So as a writer I really value feedback from readers, appreciate the effort they made on my behalf.

She reminded me of the power of words—to hurt, to inspire, to elevate. To her I’d like to say, “Debbie McGowan I Salute you. You are fabulous.”
And to my readers I say You are fabulous. How about you? Who do you think is fabulous? And will you tell him or her?