How I Lost the Game of Thrones

I’ll start by saying that this wasn’t one of those fun, insignificant, look-back-and-laugh experiences. This was mortifying. This was hell. This was life-altering. I still have anxiety attacks and nightmares over this.

But this Challenge is called “(No) Regrets,” and, to be honest, overall, I don’t regret my actions.

So here goes.

Last year, I wrote and self-published a book. It was wildly unpopular.

By "unpopular," I mean condemned as racist, sexist, and an endorsement of rape and slavery. That kind of unpopular.

Here's what you need to know:

1. My book criticizes a fictional, abolitionist character and compares her to Donald Trump, and
2. It analyzes the behavior of said character’s fans and compares a subset of them to Trump’s fanatical base.

You’ve probably heard of the character in question: Game of Thrones’ Daenerys Targaryen, First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons.

And the people criticizing my book were her die-hard fans.

Now, I can certainly understand why Daenerys would mean a lot to BIPOC, women, and victims. I can see why these viewers might have an intimate relationship with her character and take offense to being compared to Trump supporters. I sincerely regret that my work added to the hurt many fans still feel over her downfall.

But I believe in my book’s premise. My position is well-supported and based in concrete evidence.

And, contrary to these fans' belief, my work is not a hit job on either Daenerys or her supporters. I find her to be a compelling character, a strong, feminist icon with some of the best scenes in television history. My book is an objective analysis of her leadership and the public's response to it, not some bitter rant about a fictional character I don't like or petty dig at her fans.

At the time, it seemed like the entire world hated me. It was at most a few thousand people. But in my little bubble, it felt like all of Twitter had turned against me.

And boy, did they let me have it. Fans of this character began leaving negative reviews on my book's Amazon page. It now sits at a 3-star rating. They made memes about me, created insane conspiracies about me, and one sent me a message telling me to kill myself. They doxed me, targeted my family, and worked to discredit me. If I'd been employed at the time, I'm sure they'd have found a way to change that.

I was terrified of the impact this backlash would have on my career, and I was concerned that defending my work would offend people further. So, to my immense regret, I decided to remain silent and allow my book to fade into obscurity.

Then I got the shock of my life.

Y’all, they had contacted George R.R. Martin. The George R.R. Martin. Author of the A Song of Ice and Fire series. Creator of the Game of Thrones universe. One Twitter user sent him a message alleging that I had stolen his work.

And he responded.

Now, I'm still not sure what to make of this. The Twitter user in question went on to brag about this acknowledgment to her followers, who all saw it as the ultimate serve. But I never heard from Martin or his people, and James Hibberd, who was closely involved in the Game of Thrones television series, liked my post announcing my book. So there is the slight possibility that my book's premise is accurate and that Martin doesn't have a problem with it.

Or maybe he just thought I'd already gotten what I deserved from the Twitter mob.

Either way, he was made aware of its existence and the fact that a lot of people didn't like it.

(For the record, I've never even read Martin's Fire and Blood, and this Twitter user had clearly never read my book.)

I'll be the first to admit that my book is imperfect. There are a few typos. The book description is absolute shit. The subtitle is long af. I went with a quick, cheap formatter, and, as a result, every citation of the eBook was put on a separate page, so on Amazon it says that it's over 1,000 pages (it’s more like 300). That was, of course, the subject of much ridicule—who the hell writes a 1,000-page book about Game of Thrones?

I also made a lot of mistakes in releasing the book. No marketing plan, open support for the character’s nemesis (Sansa Stark), and the final nail in my coffin: unwittingly promoting it on a pro-Daenerys Twitter page, inciting a frenzy of furious die-hard fans keen on revenge.

But I was—and still am—incredibly proud of my book. I never thought that I could accomplish something like this. I had a blast writing it and wouldn't change my decision to publish it.

Still, having a book flop was an embarrassing experience.

I let my grades slip for this. I put my career on hold for this. I neglected my relationships for this. I invested over a year of time and thousands of dollars in this book. I worked my ass off for it. Only to be publicly shamed and humiliated in the end. Everyone in my life, from my friends and family to my exes and enemies, got to watch me fall flat on my face.

It's taken me a while to move past this drama. Sometimes I still struggle with it. I think Dany’s a phenomenal character, but I can no longer enjoy her scenes without feeling a pit in my stomach. Game of Thrones, dragons, the Targaryen words—they all trigger fear, guilt, embarrassment, and sadness.

The fun part of this is that GRRM has seen my book solely because these people tried—and failed—to get me sued.

Dracarys, bitches.