Published on Medium
Before I published my first novel I prepared myself for bad reviews. Which I suppose is like preparing oneself for labor contractions. Until you feel them, you think you can handle them. The very thing I was “braced” for, pre-publication, was the very thing that came at me like a hatchet to the heart once the book came out. How could I expect, and be shocked by, the same exact thing?
The one-star review was astoundingly mean. Angry. As if I intentionally extorted $4.99 from every reader who bought my e-book. Like I was running a racket — deliberately writing a “bad book” just for profit. (If only.)
What disgruntled readers don’t realize: authors don’t hold back their best writing
We don’t squander our best stuff for our diaries. We give readers the best we’ve got. And with every subsequent book, that writing will become better and better. If there’ll be subsequent books . . .
Trust me, I understand that in some ways books are like any other product, and people want what they pay for. But if you plunk down five bucks at Pet Smart for a hamster wheel for Mr. Furry, you’re not going to expect it to do anything but take your pet for a ride. With books, readers expect more than a book. They expect — or hope for — connection.
The day of this first one-star review was a Saturday
My daughter and I were getting ready to attend a dance performance at the Joyce Theater in NYC. We’d been looking forward to this for weeks. I’d woken up excited, but now, upon reading this angry diatribe, I treaded on shaky ground.
I’d become instantly despondent. I felt like I’d been outed. Like someone knew I had no right writing. No right publishing. But what about all of those sparkling five star reviews? I somehow forgot about those.
This angry rejection of my work somehow felt the most legitimate
More so than the flattering testimonials. Why? How? I don’t know. Why was I giving this person so much power? By the way, they didn’t even understand the end of the book. They completely missed it. But still! I was allowing this paragraph of hostility to usurp everything positive I’d felt about my hard-earned accomplishments.
It shook me. It made me think perhaps I was over my head. Perhaps my publishing dreams were misplaced. Be careful what you wish for, right?
I didn’t want to go to the performance
I didn’t want to see other people’s successful art. People who had “made it.” I didn’t want to see anyone I knew who’d ask me how my book was doing.
We drove in silence, my daughter and I. I was ruining our day. I needed to snap out of it. I couldn’t.
We took our seats in the sixth row. I looked at the time. This would be over soon, and I could go home to privately sulk instead of publicly sulk.
The curtain went up, and six dancers stood at the foot of the stage. They waited for their music cue. I searched their faces one by one, as they focused their gaze above the heads of the audience.
All of a sudden, something struck me
These dancers were not performing for the first time. Far from it. However many performances they’d been a part of, they’d been rejected far more times than that. Rejection after rejection. Being here now, facing eager, expectant dance enthusiasts, they’d succeeded in the most important way.
They had achieved the greatest prize of them all — an audience. A paying one. The very thing for which artists study and practice and devote their lives. If these dancers gave up five dozen rejections ago, they certainly wouldn’t have been here now.
In that instant, as music filled the theater and the dancers began to move, I’d realized something. I’d made it. An actual smile sprung across my face. In receiving the disparaging book review, it confirmed that I had achieved what I wanted: an audience.
And now, my book was being read worldwide by complete strangers. I’d get reviews of all kinds — good and bad — that was a guarantee. It came with the territory, and I was in it now.
Be careful whose assessment of your work motivates you to keep going, or to stop
It would take years and many more unfavorable reviews for me to stop reading them and decide they were of no use to me
(Don’t worry — while I’ve received hundreds of one star reviews, I’ve received thousands of five star reviews!) You’ll often hear people say you should read the bad ones because you might learn something from them that would improve your writing. I’m not in that camp. The people who make that suggestion are typically not writers. Maybe you can learn something from a three star review, but a one star review is meant to malign.
I’ve learned over the years, not only won’t they be helpful, there’s a great risk in reading them. They siphon creative spirit. Snuff creative energy. Restrain creative ingenuity. Kill creative intention. Diminish creative confidence. Toxic stuff.
I myself have been lured into this dark fly strip of exiled creative vision. Upon receiving criticism, it’s far easier to about-face to safer pastures, (i.e. stop writing and start knitting) than to persevere in the face of it. After all, who needs that in their life? It’s hard enough being a writer. To subject oneself to anything but enthusiastic encouragement is masochistic, right?
I briefly considered this giving up thing once or twice.
Then I thought, are you actually going to allow complete strangers to decide your future?
They had no idea what I’d put into it. What I’d sacrificed. How I’d stumbled and got back up a zillion times.
This is what those nay-sayers taught me: they’re not who I’m writing for
They not only didn’t get my work, or like my work, they often misinterpreted it. They didn’t connect to it in any way. Why on earth would I give their words so much weight? Why was I not focused on the other readers? No book will win everyone’s approval.
Don’t forget that most negative reviews come from people who’ve never created a thing in their life. Not a book, not an essay, not a painting, a poem, a song, an ashtray. They don’t understand the creative process. They don’t have the courage we do. In many cases, they don’t even have the courage to use their real name when giving scathing feedback. Do not give these people power to decide your creative future.
Concentrate on your ideal readers. All those people who’ve connected with your work and left glowing reviews — they’re who you’re writing for. Read their reviews and let those words embrace you. Let their impassioned, enthusiastic, laudatory testimonials fuel your creativity. Bolster your creative vision. Spark creative risks. They want more! They’re waiting for your next one!
You’ll have a next one, right?
