How I really feel about reviews
The most toxic relationship in my life is the one I have with reviews. Let's talk about why.
Bad reviews are inevitable. It’s statistically impossible to have written a book that everyone likes—every single person—but even if you had, the chances are you’ll have written something so vanilla that it isn’t worth a real opinion, so unfortunately it comes with the territory. Books don’t vibe with everyone and that’s kind of the point.
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When I first started writing, I signed up to a short ‘Starting to write your novel’ course with Curtis Brown Creative (it was really good. They interviewed me about my experience of it here). Part of the induction literature included a passage about only signing up if you were comfortable and happy to receive constructive feedback on your work. I’d been to university, so I didn’t think twice about it. Like everyone in the UK, I have also been to school, so the idea that you only produce writing for the purpose of being graded was deeply ingrained in me.
In hindsight, this is the mindset I carried over when writing fiction, even though I was just writing it for myself to begin with. I had reached a point in my life where I felt like I had to write my novel. If I didn’t, I knew that the bitterness would turn me into a wizened old hag who yelled “I could have written a book, you know!” from a park bench. The other reason I wanted to do it is because it’s a real challenge. Years of education taught me that challenges need to be accredited. Who accredits your efforts when you’re an adult? Reviews! (or so I thought).