Then the previews of next week's Nip/Tuck showed the nanny reappearing and looking suspiciously like Rebecca De Mornay in The Hand That Rocks The Cradle. And that got me to thinking that while bisexuals have it tough in how Hollywood portrays them—what with their desire to sleep with everyone they meet, inability to commit, and predilection to be serial killers—nannies might actually have it worse. Not only are they not actual women (they can almost never have kids of their own, you see) they tend to be ugly and psychotic. Bisexuals at least look good and get lots of action. (Note to self: write script about a bisexual nanny!)

I CAN DISH IT OUT, BUT CAN I TAKE IT?
The nature of writing this column involves occasionally saying not-so-nice things about various films, books, television shows, my relatives. It's not something I revel in, unless I'm writing about Mary Cheney (in which case I hope I do make her cry). Last week I mentioned a certain film that I wasn't particularly crazy about. Not only did I hear from fans of said movie (who thought I was a moron/cretin hybrid), but I also heard from one of those involved in making the film. (He wrote to correct a factual error, not to threaten me with dismemberment, though that thought probably wasn't far from his mind.) It was a good reminder that what I write isn't just about nebulous concepts of what is successful entertainment, but involves actual people who work really hard on their projects.

I think it's always a good things for folks to experience both sides of any situation (say, Dick Cheney and torture, for instance). One is probably a much better boss after having been an employee for many years. A good counselor is likely one who has been through some rough patches of his or her own. And a good critic should know what it's like to be judged. So lest you think I throw criticisms around willy-nilly without knowing what it's like to have your baby stomped on by some sneering blogger, I thought I'd share some of the slings and arrows I've had to endure as an author. Over on Amazon, reader reviews of my second novel, Firelands, included the following comments: More lame gay fiction. It felt like a Scooby Doo mystery. Are you kidding? Is that what gay fiction has to offer?

And that was just what my mother had to say.

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