Myself – not young, not beautiful, way past the best of my talent – I honestly find the process of being flamed, monstered, whatever, genuinely enlivening. Something that puts me in the mood to start writing, like that first cup of Java or the early walk along the seafront. It gives me a “Come on – let’s be having you!” sort of feeling. Of COURSE it doesn’t hurt me. If I never cared what my parents, children, friends or husbands thought of me, why am I going to care about the opinions of a stranger with a pretend name?
I think that, ultimately, KNOWING YOURSELF is the key to not worrying about the opinions of others. So many people lie to themselves, about their morals, or their motives, or their exact level of mediocrity, and that makes them vulnerable to outside snipers. When you know and accept every last good and bad thing about yourself, no one can touch you. (…)
THINK about WHO is judging you. IMAGINE what their failings, fetishes, fetid little foibles may be. CONSIDER how much of what they say about you isn’t actually about you but about them, and what you have that they wish they had.
And if all else fails, imagine them in a tutu…