A Note on Abuse

Today, on a Sunday morning, I received anonymous comments on my blog that were wildly abusive. They were vile in content and execution. They contained threats, falsehoods, insults, mockery, defamation and a scatological reference so disgusting I won’t reproduce it. One of them was, I believe, from a writer, the other from someone adjacent to the scene. I have left them in an unapproved state so that the information is retained, and blocked the accounts. Frankly in one case I was worried I would expose myself to legal liability if I left the comment up. I am receiving advice from good people on twitter and Mastodon, and determining how to proceed.

The irony was that one of them suggested no publisher would want to deal with me. Had they read that comment, no publisher would want to deal with its author. I don’t think any person of reason would want to deal with a person who talks to other people that way. Nobody deserves to be spoken to like that. Nobody.

Irish literary people, if we allow this sort of bile to flourish in our midst and figure, well it’s ok because it isn’t me, we have work to do. Because this is what drives away our trans colleagues, our fellow writers of colour, our MincĂ©ir brethren and everyone who doesn’t glide through life with enormous social advantages. Hell, I’ve got the social advantages and I’m a bit shaken up.

We have serious work to do.

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