The email came in this morning. “Sean,” the message began. “You are a social media attention whore….”

Great way to start the day.

“…You’re like all other attention seekers,” the writer went on, “constantly looking for likes and engagement… I’ve been a professional writer for 29 years, and it’s people like you who corrupt the profession. …I think you know what I’m talking about.”

The last sentence ends in a preposition.

A few hours later, a book review on a major bookseller website.

“…[Dietrich’s] book was a laborious and difficult read… I found [the author’s] tone glib and disrespectful. This author might indeed have something to say, but he’s too immature to say it.”

You’re only young once. But you can be immature forever.

Then there was the letter to the editor of one of the newspapers for which I write.

“…I am a former reader of Sean. I was disgusted with his treatment of religion in his recent column… I take offense at the tasteless jokes about Baptists.”

Why should you take two Baptists fishing? Because if you take just one, he’ll drink all your beer.

And here’s another little gem from another newspaper that carries my shoddy work:

“…I found Sean’s article in [name of paper] especially upsetting, especially the jokes about the Baptist tradition. I have been a Baptist all my life. I am 77 years old, and found his humor belittling.”

As it happens, I have been a Baptist all my life, too. I come from a Baptist town. Even our atheists were Baptist, because it was a Baptist god they didn’t believe in.

One of my childhood friends, for example, is a Baptist preacher. I recently told him about some negative mail I received.

He replied: “Don’t worry about it. Everyone has haters. Muslims don’t recognize the sovereign state of Israel. Jews don’t recognize Jesus as God’s son. And Baptists don’t recognize each other at Hooters.”

I could do this all day.

“Sean Dietrich,” the official book reviewer began, “writes in a way that seems confused…”

Who said that?

“This author needs to learn basic grammar.”

Hay, that ain’t nice.

And the last one: “This is the worst writing I’ve read in my entire life.”

Clearly this reviewer hasn’t read “Moby Dick.”

So anyway, the reason I am sharing all this with you is because 16-year-old Samantha, of Kansas City, Missouri, wrote me a letter this morning. Samantha said she wants to be a writer.

She worked for weeks on an essay. Then she sent the essay to me for my opinions. I thought the essay was wonderful, and that’s what I told her. So she turned it in.

The teacher spilled red ink all over the page. Then her fellow students critiqued her work publicly. Some of the critiques were less than kind. By the end of the day, Samantha was in tears.

“I thought I was going to be a writer,” Samantha wrote, “but I obviously have no talent for writing. I guess I’m giving up writing now.”

Dear Samantha, I will not try to talk you out of this idea. I will simply make you a deal. If you give up writing…

So will I.