Being an author automatically came with a wide range of criticism. And Connor had heard it all.

And like any good self-hating artist, he had absorbed the nastiest pieces of criticism and made it part of his psyche. Some choice quotes included:

The protagonist is clearly a thinly-veiled self-insert of the author, and not even a compelling one.

A series of monologues in the guise of a fiction novel.

A cry for help if I ever saw one.

Both Connor White and his characters need to be introduced to the concept of therapy.

This book would severely depress me if it didn’t so colossally annoy me.

And so on and so forth. There was one particular incident, however, that always led the pack of insults, and it wasn’t even particularly compelling or well-phrased.

It was back in high school, when

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