You can’t control what other people think. Of your writing. Of you. I used to get into violent redfaced rages over some of the comments on Pajiba articles when people would read something I wrote and interpret something so fucking bananas it should have come with three scoops of ice cream and walnuts. Then I found this Ray Bradbury quote and now I feel all better:
“One critic once thought my vampire family story HOMECOMING was intended as a parable on mankind in the atomic age, under the threat of the Atom Bomb. I was mostly amused. After all, each story is a Rorschach Test, isn’t it? and if people find beasties and bedbugs in my ink-splotches, I cannot prevent it, can I? They will insist on seeing them, anyway, and that is their privilege. Still, I wish people, quasi-intellectuals, did not try so hard to find the man under the old maid’s bed. More often than not, as we know, he simply isn’t there.”
You want to find angry symbolism in my scribblings, have at it. You’ve got your own agendas. I’ve got mine.