Many people have told me that my writing is upsetting, not specifically here in this blog, but in general. I take that as a compliment.
Some people have told me I'm a genius: most vociferously, my mom. I take it as a compliment.
Other people have told me that they hate my work, that they have no idea what to make of it, no idea what it's about. I take that as a compliment.
One time, in graduate school, the writer Rosellen Brown told me that an essay of mine about my dad -- called "Weapons" -- was, for her, harder to stomach than a Sam Shepherd play.
I took THAT as a total compliment.