I remember before ASHES,ASHES was published, I was so calm and rational, filled with the zen of doing and being rewarded for what I loved. I knew that eventually I would have to let go of the book. Let it be in the world and stand on its own two feet and belong to whoever picked it up. If it was criticized or bullied or mocked I’d have to keep out of it and accept this with dignity and understanding.
That all went out the window pretty fast.
Just because I know this rationally doesn’t mean my heart knows it too. There’s a severe disconnect there.
I remember blithely saying “I’d rather people hate my book than care nothing about it either way. I want there to be debate, discussion. I want it to polarize people. Better that someone vehemently hate it than toss is aside with utter and complete boredom.”
Nice, mature, common-sensical thoughts but–
The fact is: most people will like the book OK. Some people will LOVE the book. Some people (hopefully fewer) will HATE the book. And some people will fall somewhere on either side of absolutely LOVE and desperately HATE.
It doesn’t matter what book it is really. This is the way the chips fall. There’s probably some law of averages somewhere that explains it far better than I can.
Go look up a book that you love using any of the sites which allow ratings…(I’ll wait).
See?
I know it’s hard to believe because there are books I am so passionate about– that I L.O.V.E. LOVE– that barely rank 3 or 3.5 stars. And included within that average are ratings from people who thought the book royally sucked.
I get that (rationally. My heart does not agree but I am trying to muffle my heart). What appeals to someone may not to someone else, it’s like okra and parsnips or haggis and pineapples, blah blah blah…
I don’t know about you but my inner critic is pretty mean. If I allow it to yell too loudly I would never get any writing done. EVER.
So although I appreciate that readers have opinions (and bless them for it), I have to close my ears (and my heart), and stay out of the whole thing.