Before you read this post, you should first know that me even writing it is a REALLY bad idea. When you become a published author DON'T DO THIS. It's completely immature of me. I'm stooping way, way down here. But I vent or explode, so . . .
Congratulations if you're reading this in Google Reader because I imagine one of my friends will be emailing me soon to tell me to take this down and the only place it will ever appear now is in your reader.
Secondly, before you continue, YOU HAVE TO PROMISE NOT TO TAKE ANY ACTION. I mean it. NONE. I hope what I'm about to share just makes you laugh, but if you become enraged on my behalf and are overcome with the need to inflict soul-deep violence on someone, then
1) You are probably a very good friend
2) You are a probably a little crazy
3) DON'T DO IT.
Now, if you can abide by that rule of DON'T DO IT, then you may proceed. But you have to promise. Reading on means you've promised.
Okay, you've officially promised. Let's begin.
Bad reviews happen. Bad in the sense that someone might not like your book and bad in the sense that it's just a poorly written review. I got one of this double whammy variety.
Here's the thing. Wiser, more experienced writers will tell you to prepare for this. And I really thought I had. Except for the part that I truly thought no one would ever legitimately give The List a 1-star review. I expected some cranky people who hate the genre might give it 2-stars and a handful of people did. According to the site I check most regularly (and which I will not name because remember, DO NOTHING), a fair amount of people liked my book just fine (37 nice folks) and gave it 3 stars, a bunch of folks wrapped their arms around it and said, "This is such a fun read!" (97 people) to the tune of four stars and then 73 people have either known me from childhood or thought Matt Gibson was so hot that they couldn't in good conscience give it less that 5-starrrrrrrz (woot!)
But like I said, it finally happened. The dreaded 1-star. And while it bothers me more than it should in proportion to the number of GREAT reviews The List has gotten, it bothers me way less than I thought a 1-star would. (My husband is less sanguine about all this. There may have been swearing involved which only made me love him more because he's SOOOOO on my team.)
But this is what I figure. I wrote something. I put it out there knowing it became fair game for other people to judge it. And this reviewer did. And wrote her review and put it out there for people to judge. And so I will.
I present my first 1-star review, complete with commentary. Tada! Check it:
If you like Mormon Romance, you'll love this book. If you care about literature, go find some. (You obviously hate the genre. Next time you find yourself near LDS romance, put it down and back away slowly. People with peanut allergies are smart enough not to eat peanuts. Be smart, lady. Be smart.) I made it through exactly one chapter. (And now I know I really don't need to take you very seriously because really? One of my longest reviews comes from someone who only read one chapter? Really?) As my friend KTrip says, this should be categorized as fantasy. (I admit being totally impressed by both of these people's clear intellectual superiority at this point.) I made it just one chapter because it was completely unbelievable and aggravatingly so. The main character is a moron, plays games, and thinks a little too well of her attractions (remember the paragraph where she described herself in detail, focusing on her absurdly wonderful features?) (Sorry. Should have started her off as perfect, because: HOW BORING TO WATCH HER GROW.) I wouldn't want to be friends with her. (It's okay. I don't think you guys would get along.) So I stopped, because my brain was turning to mush and my stomach was churning (All of my comments here are too mean so I'll say nothing). (Though I will own that the writing was fine.) (THANKS) Perhaps I did not give the book a fair chance (Duh), and there are so many reviews here of folks who totally loved it (205 to 7. I win), so I allow that for some it may be great escapism -- just not for me, or those I love (it's good of you to protect them from all the bad things in the world, like my book). Many pleasant readings to all -- let them read how, where, or what they may. (Do I need to say anything about this conclusion, like that it's utterly pretentious? No? Good).
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