Currently, I’m an unpublished writer (or, more optimistically, pre-published). However, my Muses have all made the jump into the actual printed world. And while being published has its highlights– the validation, the effect on people’s lives, and the money (well, the chump change, at least), it has many pitfalls – real deadlines, bad/no marketing…and reviews. Therefore, I can’t tell you about reviews from a personal perspective, but I can give my thoughts on them from seeing the Muses go through them from afar.

In summary, here’s what I think: Reviews are a drug.

They are horribly addicting, rarely productive, and can be fatal in too large of concentrations. A good one will make you scrape noggins with the stratosphere, but on the other hand, a bad one can fuse itself to your cerebellum for eternity. Reading them can make your moods so wildly unpredictable that your loved ones will cringe every time you come near. They skew your perspective of reality, sometimes for good - like hearing how you kept someone awake all night reading, and sometimes for bad – your characters are flat or your plot is unoriginal.

And, like drugs, some people are addicts by nature and others aren’t…though be warned, as a writer, most of us seem more prone to obsessive personalities. Plus, in the internet age everyone is a critic and can post almost anything on Goodreads or Amazon. And our access to those is a keystroke away.

I’m not one to judge though because getting a Kirkus starred review or an ‘A’ in Entertainment Weekly is worthy of the high. Not getting those, though, shouldn’t be the end of creation. You just need to be aware of your own limits and take control of yourself. If getting a ‘one dog pile’ rating on WeTrashEveryBook.com will send you into serious depression…then going cold turkey might be the thing for you. Another alternative to consider is using others as your filter…meaning: letting your friends, writing group, or publisher forward you the important / worthy reviews (they will, believe me - and they’ll be even angrier than you are at the negative ones). Or maybe just read the major critics and ignore the Amazon stars.

Or maybe pay no attention to any of them and be proud of the fact that you got a book out into the world period. That, in the end, is the buzz we’re truly going for.

Katy and I have been in Hood River, Oregon at a writing workshop this week. Yesterday, during dinner with a few other writers, the subject of reviews came up. Here are the questions that were raised, followed by my answers.

How difficult it is to read someone's deconstruction of your work?

Totally depends. If the reviewer didn't like the book because of incompatible taste, those are the easiest to shrug off. They might dislike my characters, my writing, my world-building... it can hurt a little to read, but I understand. Plenty of books let me down. That's the thing. I'm a reader, too. I totally get what it feels like to be unsatisfied with the reading experience.

The reviews that really hurt, if I'm being honest, are the ones that resonate and bounce around in my head long after I've read the review. Usually when that happens it's because 1) I have been attacked or offended on a personal level (rare), or 2) the reviewer has isolated a weakness in the book that I actually agree with (more common.) This latter category is the worst because, while I'm far from perfect, I am a perfectionist. Being reminded of my failings is miserable. It can be very hard to shake...which brings me to the next question.

Does reading negative reviews get easier over time?

Yes. Reviews are like bee stings. At first, there was a lot of pain. A lot of "what did I do to that bee?" Then I became allergic and it REALLY sucked (this was when I become obsessive about reviews around the launch of my first book.) Then I read so many that they lost their potency, and I developed natural immunities. It still sucks to be stung, but for the most part the hurt goes away pretty quickly.

How do you deal with it?

The best thing? Don't read them in the first place. Second best approach: set yourself up so that you won't dwell on what you read. If I'm going to read a review, then I try to have a plan in place for immediately afterward. That way if it's a bad one that hits me like a 2 by 4, I can still get myself doing whatever it is I had planned. I'm less apt to stare blankly at the screen, or threaten to throw in the towel.

Being reviewed is part of being a writer. I've learned that the second my manuscript goes to print, it's no longer mine anymore. It belongs to the reader, too. And while I've focused on the negative side of that here, the reality is that it can be, and most often is, incredible to see that people are reading and talking about your books.

Bee stings hurt, but once you've gotten through one or two, you know they're survivable. And would you ever stop walking through gardens for fear of being stung?

As writers, we all have our own version of SKINNY sitting on our shoulder, that inner voice which speaks your worst fears about your writing.  You know the one- it sounds suspiciously like yourself and tells you can't string together a cohesive thought or interesting sentence, let alone a 300 page book with an actual plot and character arcs. 

Hack. If this boy smiles one more time in this scene, his lips are going to fall off.

For me, that voice is always strongest somewhere between 10,000 and 50,000 words.  It pops up just as the first blush of young love with a new project is dying and I realize I've written myself into a corner from which there is seemingly no escape.

Haven't you used this line before? Wait, didn't I see it on the top ten list of overused lines in manuscripts posted on Twitter?  It was number three.  I think you've used it at least once in every book you've ever written. 
 
The problem is that once that voice pops up, it never really seems to go away.  I may push it back and press through, completing a draft, a rewrite, a revision, and edits, but that voice is always lurking, waiting for something, anything, to prove that it's right.

In my real life, I consider myself to be someone who is pretty resilient.  A pragmatist and a survivor who views the world with logic and common sense.  As a writer- not so much.  It's human nature to crave validation, and as a writer for publication, I purposely share my heart with the world.  Logically, I know that not every reader is going to love the same things I do. Logically, I know that some readers may respond negatively to certain elements in my work.  But I've learned that logic has nothing over base emotion when it comes to receiving a negative review.

That first book was a fluke, Talia.  Utter trash that should never have gotten published.  There are so many worthy writers out there waiting for a break.  You should just step aside already.

I try to remind myself that there are perfectly lovely people in the world who don't like dogs or Pinkberry (You're comparing your books to Pinkberry? Please.).  Of course there will be people who don't love my work.  As Justine Larbalestier says:  "You publish books, you get bad reviews. If you don’t want bad reviews don’t write books."  This is so, so true. 

But knowing that not everyone is going to love my book doesn't always work, because when I see a negative review, my SKINNY voice is right there again, loudly proclaiming that the negative reaction is the right one.  All of my deepest fears (that it's not good enough and never will be) are validated by negative reactions, and that has so much more resonance than a positive review.  One negative review can trump ten positive ones.  That's because the voice on the other shoulder, the sweet, angelic voice who loves a character or a line or a chapter or even (gasp) the book, that voice is much more easily cowed and prone to self doubt.

So I'm learning to let go.  To write a book that I love and trust that I've done all I can.  To set it loose in the world and then step back, or better yet, move forward- to write the next one. 

I know I'll never write a perfect book, and I don't want to, because what then?  I can only imagine how the SKINNY voice would react to that.

You'll never do that again.  What makes you think you can even try?  No one wants to read anything but that one perfect book and anything else you write will just feel like a cheap imitation.  Just call it GREASE 2 and get it over with.
 
I want to write a book that challenges me.  A book that ignites feelings and expresses ideas I didn't know I had.  I want to fall in love with my characters and then let them go, so I can start the entire process over again.  I don't want to write a book for everyone.  I want to write a book for me.  And hopefully, I'll find some like-minded readers along the way to share it with.

And as for that SKINNY voice on my shoulder?  She usually quiets down if I feed her enough chocolate.

I’ve never been a reviewer.  I joined Goodreads so I can keep track of the books I’ve read and when I finish them.  I don’t review on Amazon.  I’ve let my NetGalley participation lapse.  Here on the YA Muses, we call our monthly feature a Book Blog, not a review.  We talk about books.  We talk about what books we’re reading, why we’re reading them and what we like about them. 

It’s not that I don’t have opinions.  I have strong feelings, likes and dislikes.  I can give good, clear reasons for why I think one book has literary merit or another is a cracking good read, but perhaps not award-winning prose.  But I have different reasons for loving a book (or not loving it).  There have been brilliantly-written, loudly-acclaimed novels that I have had trouble finishing because I didn’t like the characters.  And I adore a good, fast, funny mystery as much as the next person, whether or not Kirkus would give it a star.

So why do I worry when my books get reviewed?  Why do I take it so personally when an industry review is less than glowing?  Or when a Goodreads reader slams it for being what it is and not what they wanted to read?  Why do I agonize over the one-star ratings? 

I’ve done the trick where I find a book that I absolutely loved, that gets glowing comments from other writers and many readers, and I read the one-star reviews for that book.  I completely disagree with what those reviewers said.  I respect their opinions, I certainly don’t think they’re unintelligent or misinformed.  I can often see why they say the things they do, I just don’t agree.  And this makes me feel better.

For about a minute.

For a while last year, I believed that the most critical reviews of GILT revealed the truth about it.  That it truly was all the things these readers said.  That my own vision of my book was catastrophically wrong and that I was too poor a writer to make the story I intended to write shine through.  That somehow, I had failed.

It took me a long time to be able to accept my book for what it is.  To love my book for the reasons that I love it.  To remember why I wrote it and what I intended and then stand back and let other people read their own interpretation of it.  I can’t hover over them and say, but don’t you see?  This sentence encapsulates the entire point of the novel!  I have to let them enjoy it—or not—based on their own experiences, their own backgrounds, their own desires and their own visions.  I have to let go, because once my book is released into the world, it is not my own anymore.  It belongs to every reader, and I have to let them do with it what they may.

My second book is about to go out into the world.  I love this book, too.  It was harder to write; it came from a deeper place emotionally.  I lived with these characters in my head like they were parts of me and my best friends.  It will hurt when people don’t love it—don’t love them—as much as I do.  I hope I have managed to grow a thicker skin.  I need to appreciate (and believe!) the reviews that are glowing.  I need to honor the readers who reach out to me personally to tell me how my book touched them on a deep, emotional level. 

But I need to let every reader experience the book in their own way—like it or not. 

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