My very first book, Make Me a Match, came out on September 1st. On August 29th I got my first bad review. Well, okay, not terrible. Not, “Hey, you suck! Please, please, please don’t ever write anything again.” But lukewarm. Three stars. “Not what I hoped,” the reviewer said.
Blah.
This review came after a barrage of terrific reviews. No matter. My life was now divided into two parts: before and after The Review.
Before The Review, life was good. Words like “amazing,” “stunning,” “a major new talent,” filled my growing head.
After The Review, all was darkness. Maybe I shouldn’t write. Maybe Warner won’t even print my second book. Maybe this reader is right and I was so very wrong to think I could write….
Wait. This was one person’s opinion. Only, it was one person’s opinion on Amazon. My sales began to plummet. (Not that I was obsessively checking ….)
My first impulse was to e-mail all my buddies and have them bury The Review with a sea of raves. I called my first buddy.
She said, “Oh, honey. That review’s nothing. Did you see what Romantic Times said about you?” She sounded as if someone had died.
This was odd, as Romantic Times gave me a gushing 4 1/2 stars review. I reminded her of this. She said, “Yes, but they rated you mild.”
Mild? How had I missed that? Mild meant there’s no sex in the book. But I have sex. Um, let me re-phrase that: my book has sex. Hot, vivid, interesting sex. Heck, there’s even a love scene in the Garden-of-too-Many-Lawn-Ornaments.
“I know they got it wrong,” my friend said, “A silly mistake. Typo, perhaps. But it’s really a shame.” The someone-died voice again.
I wasn’t going to call any more friends.
I drank a glass of wine. Walked in the rain with my daughter. Punched my pillow. Ate chocolate ice cream. Mint ice cream. Mocha chip. A few cookies.
“Mild…” said Romantic Times.
“Not what I hoped…” said dumbo on Amazon. No, just kidding. Not dumbo. Said a very thoughtful reviewer.
I had to think this through.
Okay. This wasn’t about the review. It was about me. How could I be so weak as to take this one (stupid! Lame! Wrong!—oops, sorry, more ice cream…ah, that’s better…) review and let it convince me that my career was over? That was pathetic. Especially with all the great reviews the book has gotten.
And yet, there it was.
So what do all you writers out there do when you get a bad review? And readers, when you read a review, what makes you trust the reviewer? Do you trust a rave more than a pan? Do reviews even matter to you? Chocolate-ice-cream stuffed writers want to know…
(Update: six days later, I resisted asking all my buddies for reviews, and got some nice reviews anyway...except for one. One Amazon review WAS my Mom. But I'm not telling which.)
Cheers! --Diana
http://www.dianaholquist.com