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  • Reviews: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly (but mostly the Bad and the Ugly)

    This week’s topic is reviews and reviewers.

    For me, the term “reviewer” always conjures up an image of an erudite literary scholar conducting a painstaking examination of an author’s work and saying insightful, revelatory things. Which is kind of funny when I think about it, because by and large, that elbow-patched, pipe tobacco-scented fantasy doesn’t correspond to my own experience.

    At the start of my career, Ed Bryant, writing in Locus, gave two of my early horror novels generous, thoughtful reviews. But then the horror field virtually collapsed for a time, and I moved into writing tie-in novels (Forgotten Realms, X-Men, Pathfinder, World of Darkness, etc.) Until Blind God’s Bluff, they were the only novels I was putting out.

    For the most part, professional critics don’t comment on tie-in novels. Thus, in recent years, most of my reviews have come from bloggers, posters in fan forums, and Amazon customers. So that’s the kind I’m going to talk about.

    I’ll start by saying I endorse the right of readers to hold and express any opinion, good or bad, about an author’s work. In fact, a writer should arguably be grateful for even negative comments. In today’s overcrowded entertainment marketplace, it may well be that any mention is better than none. Still, that said, reviews occasionally make me wince.

    Sometimes the problem is pure inaccuracy. One guy who reviewed my X-Men novel attributed it to Christopher Golden. Now, Christopher Golden is a fine writer who wrote some terrific X-Men books back in the day, so maybe I should have taken it as a compliment. But I would rather have had my story credited to me.

    At least that bit of confusion was comprehensible. A guy who reviewed one of my Forgotten Realms novels trashed it because of a single scene he didn’t like. His description made it clear to me that the sequence in question is not actually in the book. I have no idea what story he was thinking of, but it wasn’t mine.

    It’s also exasperating when reviewers elevate their personal preferences into Absolute and Universal Principles of Art. For example, if someone gives zero stars to a paranormal romance because he hates the whole paranormal romance genre, or stomps a novel for being told in the first person because he never likes stories told in the first person, that’s unfair, and it doesn’t say anything useful to anybody reading the review.

    And sometimes bad reviews have a frustrating lack of detail. “Byers is a lousy writer, and this book sucks.” Okay, but why does it suck? What didn’t you like about it?

    But of course, much as writers might wish the poorer reviewers would up their game, it’s never going to happen. People are going to write manifestly wrongheaded comments on our work from time to time, and in fact, readers who aren’t so easily dismissed will take shots at us, too. We have to learn to cope with bad reviews.

    For me, it helps to realize there’s no such thing as a writer whose work has universal appeal. Some people don’t appreciate H. P. Lovecraft and Fritz Leiber, and if even the true giants of our field can’t please everybody, I’d be crazy to expect to do better.

    It also helps to remember the reviewer was only speaking for himself. He wasn’t giving voice to a silent multitude of disappointed readers.

    But the most important thing to understand is that no matter how stupid and abusive a review might seem, the writer should resist any temptation to answer back. If the reviewer didn’t like the book, nothing the author can say will persuade him he actually did. And more importantly, no matter how courteous and reasonable the writer’s rebuttal (and he may not find it all that easy to be courteous and reasonable if he’s pissed off), he runs a significant risk at being seen as a thin-skinned, arrogant jerk lashing out at a poor little reader just for daring to express a less-than-adulatory opinion. That’s not a good public image to cultivate.

    Basically, the advice above boils down to shrug off bad reviews and move on. But is that really always the best response? Can’t writers learn from criticism?

    If dozens of reviews pointed to the same alleged defect in an author’s work, I guess that issue might conceivably be worth considering. But in my experience, that hasn’t been the case. Those who’ve disliked my stuff have given diverse and indeed contradictory reasons why. Considered all together, the comments essentially canceled each other out.

    Even if they hadn’t, though, it’s questionable that the feedback could have helped me, because it was commentary on work finished a year or more before. In the interim, I’d written other stories, and I hope, grown into a slightly different and more accomplished writer. Moreover, when the review appeared, I was in the middle of a new project, which may well have posed very different problems. Even if the criticism was valid, there was a good chance it was no longer relevant.

    Thus, those who post reviews thinking writers will alter their approaches in response have unrealistic expectations. Fortunately, that’s not the only reason to do it. It can be satisfying to express one’s opinions to other readers. Imagine, for example, the pleasure you yourself might experience by posting a glowing review of Blind God’s Bluff on Amazon or Barnes and Noble. Hypothetically speaking.

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  • Those are his actual teeth. Horrifying, isn't it?

    So, for today’s post on the topic of “The Relationship Between Writer and Reviewer” I thought I’d do something a bit different. I asked my dear (almost too dear) friend Nick “Shrapnel” Sharps of The Bookish Mafia, Elitist Book Reviews, and SF Signal if he’d be interested in talking with me about the assigned topic and some other stuff.

    Enjoy!

    (Oh, and if you haven’t read his interview with me on SF Signal, you can find it here.)

    #

    ZJ: How did we meet? (Seriously, I have a terrible memory and don’t remember.)

    #

    NS: I sent you a message on Facebook asking for an ARC of NO RETURN so I’d have some fuel for my furnace this winter.

    #

    ZJ. Ah. Immediate jokes at my expense. I am wounded.

    Did you think we would become friends?

    #

    NS: Are there any other kind of jokes? 
I didn’t not think we would become friends. Over the past year I’ve developed a pretty good rapport with lots of cool authors. Without wanting to break any hearts or trample any delicate feelings I’d say that largely these are semi-formal acquaintanceships. The authors I’ve met are pleasant and sociable but I usually try to keep some distance. I don’t ever want to be seen as one of those hardcore fans that just decides they’re best friends with an author and pesters them into oblivion. I’ll totally geek out about talking to you, but I won’t show you the tattoo of your face I’m getting inked on my back.

    I was instantly won over by your winning personality—you struck me as someone who was genuinely gracious for any attention you got.

    Still, I never expected to make such a good friend in such a short amount of time. Especially with a complete stranger.

    #

    ZJ: An insult followed by praise!

    Well, I hope I’m gracious. I’m always surprised when authors aren’t upon receiving attention.

    And me too! I haven’t made a really good friend that quick in, well, maybe ever
. I was amused as hell by your personality and intelligence, and entirely shocked to discover you were in your earliest 20s. It’s been very cool to see how much we have in common despite differing backgrounds and even some beliefs that—on paper, anyway—are conflicting.

    Did it worry you at all that we had become such fast friends, and that you’d soon be reading (and perhaps reviewing) my book?

    #

    NS: Did it worry me? It terrified me (I scare easily) that I had just made friends with a guy whose book I would be reviewing. It would have been a little different if NO RETURN wasn’t your debut novel. If I’d read some books written by Zachary Jernigan prior to contacting you and buddying-up, that would have been one thing. But to befriend a debut author? I had no clue how awful your writing might be.

    I take reviewing seriously. Were it not for Steve Diamond of Elitist Book Reviews and John DeNardo of SF Signal, I would still be paying for all my books—and that’s a hobby I can ill afford. I read 70 books in 2012 after all.

    But for the first time since I took up reviewing I found myself questioning my own integrity. I hadn’t even read NO RETURN and I was considering what to do if it sucked like a Dyson. It caused no small amount of anxiety.

    I didn’t want to betray my readers and I didn’t want to betray the sites I contribute to. I didn’t want to betray my own ethics. Despite all this I was concerned about losing a friend if I had to really tear into the book. 
Luckily the ARC came around and all my fears turned out to be unfounded. NO RETURN didn’t suck. In fact, it very much didn’t suck. And that’s when I faced a new problem. What if people found my review to be too positive? What if I was accused of pandering because of our connection? It was a whole new level of angst. Eventually I got over it. I realized that so long as I relayed exactly what I felt then no one could fault me. I don’t believe there’s any such thing as 100% objectivity but I gave it my best shot. And fortunately you left a couple minor details for me to pick at. That’s why they’re there isn’t it?

    #

    ZJ: No. They’re not actually there. My book is perfect. Your brain just fucked up somewhere in the process of reading it and arrived at the erroneous conclusion that there was something lacking in my writing.

    Neanderthal.

    Just joking. Maybe. I worried about the same thing, though. As much as I wanted to believe that we could still be good friends if you really didn’t like my book, I knew that I’d be resentful. And that’d be a stupid reaction, but still, I’m human (mostly).

    I think it’s admirable that you told your worries to go fuck off. Do you think most reviewers are capable of separating friendship and the act of reviewing? The entire world operates on the assumption that knowing the right people, having good relationships with them, gets you somewhere. Do you think that an author being personable with reviewers influences their reviews—maybe not to the extent of their just deciding it’s good, but in how open they are to liking it?

    #

    NS: I’d hate to speak for most reviewers. I’m probably on better terms with authors than I am with fellow critics. I will say that there are a lot of great critics and I would imagine that the key to greatness lies with detachment. On the other hand, as an Advertising/Public Relations major I am a firm believer in networking. Knowing the right people can open a lot of doors and that goes for reviewing as well, at least in my experience.

    You treat people with respect and they tend to respond in kind. I would say that personable authors do have an influence, though not necessarily a +2 rating boost. If an established author messages me and requests politely that I read their work they are off to a good start. Critics want to feel wanted, it doesn’t hurt to stoke the ego a little. It’s the same as using a server’s name at a restaurant. It doesn’t cost you anything and it establishes an amiable atmosphere.

    #

    ZJ: That makes perfect sense. I know that I want to establish a good relationship with people because, well, I want people to like me—especially when we have a similar interest. I honestly want to make friends, caution be damned. I know at some point that I’ll have my feelings hurt when someone I like and respect doesn’t like something I do, but having friends is more important than that.

    What, good sir, do you see your future relationship to sff literature being? I’ve read some of your fiction, and it’s abundantly clear you have a talent for it—yes, far beyond that of most people your age. I’m not licking your polyps here, either; I’m not shy about telling people I like something (or vice versa).

    And on a personal note, have our interactions had any impact on the way you view reviewing, and writing in general?

    #

    NS: Polyps? Sounds like something that need be excised rather than licked… As for my future relationship with sff literature? I love reading and I love writing. Obviously I’m going to keep reading, unless the Literary Gods strike my vision for some hubris. I do need to start reading more non-fiction as much as it kills me. I have a copy of Ogilvy on Advertising by David Ogilvy that is collecting dust.

    But I have higher aspirations. I want to write. I’m working on an urban fantasy short story that I intend to submit to an upcoming anthology. One day I’d like to publish a novel. Of course, I’ll have to actually write it first but… small steps. I think a lot of critics are also aspiring authors. It’s another thing to take into consideration when talking about objectivity/subjectivity. The publishing industry is tightly knit. Courtesy is required if you want to get anywhere. I still hope that I can maintain my independence without burning any bridges but it is something to always keep in mind. Respect is a must.

    I asked you a couple weeks ago for some advice on how to improve my reviews. It wasn’t advice that a professional critic would give but I found it useful. I was burning myself out and it gave me a boost and a new perspective. I’m grateful for that. Your support has also motivated me to sit down on my lazy ass and actually write. I’ve written more fiction in the last month than I did all last year. So that’s another reason to be grateful.

    #

    ZJ: I’m flattered. That makes me really happy to hear. I’d like to motivate people after years of dumping on everything. I used to be a really negative guy. Hard to believe, I know.

    Something you said here resounds with me: “… I have higher aspirations. I want to write.” What is it about your current contribution—reviewing—that feels somehow insufficient? I ask this because, honestly, it’d help me have some perspective from somebody who wants to be on both sides of the equation.

    You see, I often wonder why I feel the need to write. Sometimes I feel like chastising myself for needing that validation. I mean, not everybody needs to BE READ.

    What do you think it is that produces that need in a person? And… Do you think you could be happy as “just” a reviewer?

    #

    NS: You used to be a negative guy? You and me both brother, you and me both.

    I love reviewing. I’m so opinionated and narcissistic that it provides just the outlet I need. What I enjoy most about reading is sharing. I want to talk about these books, I want to discuss the things that happen and what they might mean. I also appreciate getting a $700 HDTV for free from the Amazon Vine Program. And yet…

    That’s it isn’t it? Always the persistent, “And yet…” I have my own stories to tell. My head is filled with so many ideas on a daily basis it feels like I could system crash from data overload. If I sit in judgement over all these stories, doesn’t it stand to reason that I should step into the ring and test my own mettle?
    There’s something beautiful about storytelling. A great review is an in-depth analysis that provides consumers with adequate details to make an informed decision. A great story though… that can change lives.

    I do want that validation and I don’t feel too shameful over it. We all need validation in some form. The best I can hope to achieve with a well-written review is to save someone money or clue them into a worthy series. The best I can hope to achieve with a well-written story is limitless.

    Storytelling is a natural aspect of the human condition. Ants can build gargantuan structures with climate control. Monkeys can use tools but can they tell stories? No really—I’m asking. Can monkeys tell stories? Because that would be soooo cool!

    It’s almost like storytelling is a primal instinct. Isn’t that why we have social networking? We’re all sitting around a digital campfire telling stories. I won’t pretend that all stories are Tolkien quality. There are plenty of examples of 50 Shades caliber writing: lol bryan drunk all tha beer. Still, they’re stories.

    I don’t think I could ever be happy as “just” a reviewer. I want to be able to see my book on a shelf in a store and pick it up and shout, “Hey everyone! I wrote this!” And when no one pays me any attention I want to be able to throw it at their heads. And that’s something you just can’t do with an eBook.

    #

    ZJ: A lot of writers in the past couple years have gotten into flame wars with reviewers. (I’ll leave out the names, because these guys are big sellers. I’d rather not attract their negative gaze to either of us.) What do you think about the phenomenon of authors defending themselves against the criticisms—some of which are called personal attacks by the offended party—of bloggers and the resulting free-for-all?

    #

    NS: I’d say authors retain the right to defend their work, though I don’t find it the most prudent course of action. I can empathize with the need to react and I can’t imagine what it’s like to have the product of countless hours of blood, sweat, and ink criticized. But that’s the risk you take when you put yourself in the public arena, is it not? There is a difference between a critic and an asshole with an opinion. As a critic I feel that I have certain duties—to my site, to the reader, to myself, and to the author.

    My duty to the author is to explain what I liked and didn’t like and why. This gives the author the opportunity to make adjustments, not based solely on my review of course but based on many reviews. I’d like to think that this is an essential tool to helping authors improve their craft.

    I don’t write reviews to offend anyone. You’ll find that very few of my reviews could be considered “negative” because much of the time I can see the merit of a book even if I don’t like it. I write reviews to help people. Assholes with opinions are out there for attention. Responding to them fuels the fire. With the Internet it’s safe to say, “Don’t feed the trolls.”

    That doesn’t mean that authors shouldn’t defend themselves, they should just exercise caution when they do.

    Especially because I have seen instances where authors have confused helpful criticism with personal attacks. It can devolve into a real mess, and it is an easy way to lose respect for someone.

    #

    ZJ: Do you think it’s possible that the author might not be aware of the things she or he put in the book, though?

    Like, say you published a novel and someone accused you of being sexist: it’s all fine and good for you to defend yourself by saying, “Just because I wrote a sexist world doesn’t mean I’m sexist,” but what if you aren’t aware of what a sexist douche you are?

    #

    NS: Oh that’s a murky line. As a middle class rich white male with a limited experience of the world outside my own comfort zone I’m not entirely sure I have any right to speak on the matter. My natural reaction is, “More of that over-sensitive nonsense.” I know that’s not right though. I know that there is sexism in fiction and I know it causes a rift. In my opinion it’s possible to write about a sexist setting and not be a sexist yourself—but if you have a pattern of writing sexist settings you might want to consider striking out into new territory.

    #

    ZJ: Well, shit, that’s reasonable. Damn you.

    Anyway, sorry this wasn’t as freewheeling as our first interview. I think I’m having an allergic reaction to something I ate, and that’s not putting me in the best mood. (I wish I were kidding, but I ain’t.)

    Do you have any last words, you goat?

    #

    NS: Last words? I would just like to thank The Night Bazaar for allowing me and Zack to goof around. I would like to thank Zack for giving me an excuse to talk about myself and drink beer. I would like to thank the reader for reading (duh). Cheers and I hope to defile this fantastic blog again in the future!

    #

    ZJ: God, you’re adorable. I’m glad we’re friends.

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  • This is me. (Photo by Anna Martinez)

    Hi, I’m Mike. I’m a novelist.


    You have no idea how gratifying it was to write that.


    My debut novel, The Daedalus Incident, comes out May 7 from Night Shade Books. I’m excited to join my fellow scribes here at the Night Bazaar, and I can see I’m in very talented company. I’ll do my best to keep up.


    I’m no stranger to criticism about my writing. Spending 15 years as a journalist will do that. I sometimes joked that if everybody hated an article, I must’ve done something right that day. I reviewed the first iMac for ABCNEWS.com, and let me tell you, if that doesn’t earn you a thick skin, nothing will. (Love you, Apple fans! Please…don’t hurt me.)


    I admit, though, this is different. Daedalus is my first novel, and I want everybody to love it as much as I do. They won’t, of course, and all my reporter braggadocio will wither in the face of the slings and arrows sent my way by reviewers who think sailing ships in space is an awful idea. I’m stocking up on tissues and ice cream as we speak.


    But in all seriousness, I want honest feedback. This is my first book, after all, and if all goes well, it won’t be my last. Good criticism is a major part of improvement as a writer, and I will accept it with good grace.


    This is my book.

    The SF/F community, online and off, has been very welcoming, and there’s already been some kind things said about the book, or at least its premise. I’ve gotten to know some reviewers via Twitter and such, and they seem like good-hearted, fair individuals. I look forward to their thoughts.


    Will the one-star trolls on Goodreads and Amazon drive me crazy? Of course. They drive everybody crazy. But I’d like to think that most genre fans know to look past these alleged reviews and seek out more thoughtful opinions. And so long as those critiques are fair and well-intentioned, I’ll own them.


    A thought on critics, as opposed to reviewers: A reviewer tells you if he or she liked the book, and why. Critics, in my mind, are the folks who spend a ton of time thinking about the genre, read voraciously, and seek to place the book in the broader context of SF/F. They contribute a great deal to the genre, beyond simply stating their opinion on the book itself. If a critic deigned to review The Daedalus Incident, I’d be thrilled, no matter what they said.


    Well, almost no matter what they said. If it sucks, I don’t want to know.


    Michael J. Martinez is the author of The Daedalus Incident. He blogs at www.michaeljmartinez.net and Tweets at @mikemartinez72. You can bid on a signed galley of the book over at Con or Bust, with auction proceeds going toward helping people of color attend SF/F conventions. The auction starts Feb. 9 and wraps up Feb. 24. Bid early, bid often, and read it before it hits the shelves!
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  • I’ve had a number of books published, and it still amazes me to think that total strangers are reading these weird elaborations of my most intimate dreams and nightmares.  Judging me for the shameful confessions of my Id.  The way I cope is by not thinking about it—I cast each book into the void and move on to the next one.

    But the reviews.  The reviews keep reminding me.

    Now, I love anybody who makes the effort to read my books.  If someone spends their precious time (not to mention money) on my writing, they are entitled to air their opinion.  They bought that right, and it’s my responsibility as an author to face their criticism in good grace.  It’s not like I never expected to piss anybody off.   Frankly I’m amazed I haven’t been prosecuted by now.

    To be honest, I’m always fascinated to read other people’s thoughts on my work, because often I have no idea what I’ve written until it is explained to me.  Like Kafka, I tend to think everything I write is funny…which may not be how most others see it.

    The only thing that bothers me is when a reviewer misrepresents my work.  This is usually not out of any nefarious purpose, but because they haven’t read enough of it to have an informed opinion.  Easier just to run with their assumptions.

    This happened a lot with my first book, Xombies (2004), which was assumed by many to be genre kitsch, when in fact it was actually an attempt to subvert and satirize genre kitsch.  Not everyone could appreciate the difference.  Yet I keep trying!

    Then there are the folks who get offended by a novel’s subject matter but will not admit it for fear of revealing their own bias—instead they will simply announce that the book is bad.  They know that if they say they hate a book because it offends something they hold sacred, that might actually attract more readers, so they simply say, “Don’t bother reading this book.”  That’s not a review, but a cheap attempt at sabotage.

    Reading is intensely personal; no one can predict what someone else may or may not like.  Many of the greatest books ever written were banned at one time or another by sanctimonious idiots setting themselves up as arbiters of taste.  If a book is “bad” because we disagree with its ideas, then we should be prepared to say why.

    Often I wish I could respond to reviews, start a dialogue with readers.  Maybe someday I’ll do that, spend my golden years replying at length to every remark ever posted on Goodreads.

    Nothing could possibly go wrong with that.

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  • Even using the term “reviews” is ambiguous nowadays. There’s no longer a No Man’s Land between the opinion of the average reader and that of the professional reviewer. There’s a million ways in which reviews have become personal; the line between reviews and word of mouth is unclear at best nowadays. The Internet offers opinions on demand, and sometimes those opinions hurt.

    In this context, I’m excited about seeing how a Thomas Roche book fares in today’s opinion-market. I got fuck-all for reviews back in the day, when I, you know, published books and stuff. I’ve had about ten books published under my own name, and I think I’ve gotten fewer than ten reviews in published sources.

    First-time authors expecting dozens of reviews may wish to know this. At least in my experiences, reviews in publications don’t just happen; they happen more often than not because a publicist makes them happen, or because one’s last book got sufficient “buzz.”

    I never wrote or edited the same thing from year to year long enough to get any “buzz” at all, really, which I think contributed to my lack of reviews. And since all of my books came out before the entirety of human culture migrated by truck from the page to the internet — so they were more or less before the go-to place for reviews was the reader who posts her or his opinions online, rather than zines, magazines, and “online zines,” as we charmingly called them back then (most of you were probably in diapers). The world of “reviews” today is so different than it was ten years ago that it’s almost incomprehensible. Whereas reviews used to be (mostly) generated by a small group of readers, they’re now generated by all readers. Any reader can be a reviewer, with just a few keystrokes. But are “reviews” on social networking platforms like Good Reads or in stores like Amazon really “reviews?” (more…)

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  • Our topic this week: Dealing with reviews.
    Which means I had to go out and actually read mine. I felt awful, because I was really looking forward to getting book reviews. After having to ask nicely and ply my friends with beer to read my stories and tell me what they hated about it, to have spontaneous feedback?   I was excited.   Plus, one of my New Year’s Resolutions was to start caring what other people think.

    But first I got distracted by… I don’t know… shiny objects, probably… and then I got a bit terrified of what readers would say. Then I started having lurid nightmares of all the flamingly evil reviews I wrote as a teenager, before it occurred to me that actual people write these books I read.   (Although I maintain that a sushi cookbook that includes peanut butter and jelly in its ingredient list gets all the troll venom what it deserves.) (more…)

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  • Southern Gods is my first novel. It comes out – in an ever changing release date – on July 28. For now, at least. Tomorrow Amazon might send out a email that it’s already been released. So, as I write this, I’ve never truly had a review.

    I’ve had people read and critique my book(s), and that can be unpleasant sometimes, but usually not. And I don’t think critiques count, because as an author you want them to be harsh, or, at least, intensely truthful.

    How will I deal with poor reviews? Will I rant and rage and gnash my teeth? Yeah, most likely. Will I respond in a vitriol filled diatribe on my blog or some other public forum? Oh, jeez. I truly hope not. I’m not saying that’s beyond me – I think that kind of lashing out, well, everyone is capable of it in some way but most people have more sense. I’ve proven before that I can be stupid that way. I hope I have more sense, now. (more…)

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  • Some people say they don’t look at reviews. Others try not to look at them, and eventually succumb. Not only am I not going to lie and say I’m one of those people, I fully admit that I embrace reviews. At least I did in the beginning…

    I’ve been at this a while. Roughly ten years. And let me tell you, feedback in this business is hard to come by, especially if you’re working your way up through short stories, which is the path I took. At first, when you start sending out your work, all you get are stock rejections, and sometimes not even that. Sometimes your rejection is no rejection. (That, let me tell you, is some pretty infuriating stuff.) Eventually, you start getting a bit of feedback along with the rejection. You get some nice “this was close, but no dice this time” comments. And it’s heartening. You feel like you’re making some progress. Although this is valid feedback, it’s not the thing you’re really looking for. You’re looking for feedback from readers. You know, independent verification, and yes, validation, of your work. At least that’s what I’m looking for.

    I want to share my stories, and part of sharing is hearing what people think.

    (more…)

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  • And sometimes it isn’t. That’s the magic of dreams, literature, and art.

    To be honest, I’m not sure what I can add to this subject that hasn’t already been outlined quite well by Martha. (Seriously great advice there. Really. She’s one wise woman.) However, I can tell you what it was like last January when the first reviews of my novel came out. Initially, it was panic-inducing. No joke. My heart rate shot through the roof, and I thought I was going to pass out. I had to read it in stages. It’s one thing imagining how great it’d be, seeing your first book on a shelf and quite another, understanding that the sucker is OUT THERE, and you can’t correct anything. The flaws are cemented in place. There is no going back. That’s the main difference between reviews and workshopping. In a workshop, you can nod and say to yourself that you can fix the error of your mistake when you get home. With a review? Err… not so much.

    Unfortunately, writers are sensitive creatures. We have to be. Or at least, I do. Otherwise, it’s too difficult to transfer emotion to page. Without emotion, the Reader doesn’t get to ride the ride — the roller coaster of emotions crammed behind that cover.

    That said, I’ve come to the conclusion that reviews are facinating. Literature is an art form after all. Part of what makes art ART is what the Viewer (or in this case the Reader) gets out of the experience of interacting with said ART. In other words, what makes a novel really work is what the Reader gets out of it. That’s why Authors shouldn’t tell Readers what to think — even if they’re way off. Their experience is their experience.* What makes everything worthwhile is when a reviewer not only “Gets it” but they pull interesting things out of a piece that I hadn’t considered before. Even when a reviewer doesn’t understand the intent behind the work it’s good information to have. Also? It never hurts my feelings when it’s obvious someone has given it some serious thought. That’s the point. And hey, there’s so much to learn about writing. The learning process never stops. That’s the wonderful thing about writing. One really can’t know all there is to know. There’s always another subtle layer, and sometimes it’s easy to forget the basics too. A good review brings all those things to the surface. Some people seem to think good reviewing is easy. It isn’t. It’s hard work. Frankly, I deeply appreciate a good review.

    ———————–

    *The downside to the internet, I’m afraid is that Readers do interact with Authors quite freely. Sometimes this can lead to the Author telling the Reader what to think. To be honest, I don’t like that — even if I’m tempted to do it from time to time. Hey, I’m only human.

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  • Courtney SchaferI’m still a total newbie when it comes to dealing with reviews, so I may not have much useful to say this week. With The Whitefire Crossing not yet released (only two more weeks to go, woo hoo!), I’ve had a few early reviews, but so far they’ve all been highly positive. I’ve yet to cross that authorial Rubicon of reading a negative review, though I know the day is coming. No book survives its release into the wild unscathed – readers’ tastes vary too much for that.

    Though I’m accustomed to hearing criticism of my work from the fellow writers in my critique group, I suspect harsh reviews will feel a touch different. If someone savages your chapter in critique, well, you can always fix that chapter and make it better. But Whitefire is out in the world now, mine no longer (as Douglas Hulick discussed in his excellent post over at A Dribble of Ink on dealing with reviews). If someone thinks my plot or characters are horribly flawed, I don’t have the option of trying to improve them. (more…)

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