Surviving Your Reviews, or, Guarding the Creative Psyche
Author: Cheryl Zach
Original Publication Date in Love Notes: May 2003

Writing, as numerous people have noted, is less painful a pursuit than acting because you can work in your old sweats, sans makeup, and an acid-tongued Joan Rivers will not castigate you for your fashion faux pas nor for the extra pounds you packed on over the holidays. You can write alone, except for input from your writing partner, critiquing buddy or group, and happily ignore the world.

At least until the book is published, until the first reviews appear.

Then comes the fateful choice, to read or not to read. Some authors are brave enough to ignore reviews completely. I would like to say I’m among that group, but truth is, I usually have to know what they’re saying out there in the big world. When I wrote, I gave the book everything I had at that moment in time, and now they’re admiring my baby or they’re poking fun at her, and I can’t resist at least taking a peek to see which it is.

You can categorize reviews as two basic types, professional (nominally) or personal. The last is reader response, in letters, e-mail, or online, and readers can be perceptive, enthused, or caustic, but their opinions usually reflect their own likes and dislikes. Like most writers, I love to hear from readers, and I certainly am thrilled when someone likes my or, in the case of the dual persona of Nicole Byrd, our book. When they ask for more stories about a certain character, or if they have a mistake to point out, I take note. Even when the response is completely personal, I also pay attention. (When I wrote for children, their letters were totally honest and usually positive; they didn’t take the time to write unless they liked the book. Unless, of course, the teacher assigned the whole class to write a review and then sent me the batch. I still remember the boy who wrote, “I read your book. It was too mushy. Sincerely, Josh.”

Professional reviews are supposed to rise above purely personal reactions, or at least note them, as in “Western romances are not usually my favorites, but this book is so well-written..." and so on. In a perfect world, at least!

If the reviews are positive, you float. If they’re mixed, you take a deep breath and consider them for helpful suggestions next time. Perhaps you did let that minor character become too overbearing.

Perhaps you did skimp or overindulge in details about the setting. If more than one reviewer points out a weak spot in an “otherwise enjoyable book,” you pay special attention. And if the review is savage, you take to your bed for three days or indulge in a whole quart of Cherry Garcia. No, no, you tell yourself, or your friends assure you, it’s only one person’s opinion, after all. You put it out of your mind (ha!) and you go back to your computer.

When I returned to writing for adults and Nicole Byrd was born (Michelle Place and I writing under our pen name), I found myself back in the world of grownup reviews. Our first books got mostly positive notice, and we were thrilled each time. Then, when our third historical, Lady in Waiting, was about to appear, we found out that Publishers Weekly was going to print a review. We felt we’d hit the big time.

First we were elated; we’d be getting national attention in the industry periodical that bookstores most often read! Then we were petrified; what if they hated our book and said so? After two weeks of nail-biting, when the week of publication finally arrived, we called all over town to find a bookstore with a copy of PW in stock. No one had it. After driving to every bookstore in a 30-mile radius and numerous exasperating phone calls, Michelle finally found a bookstore which had one copy for its own use, though none to sell. She explained our dilemma, and a sympathetic sales clerk agreed to check the review and at least tell us if the tone was generally positive or negative.

After a few heart-stopping ums and ahs, she said, “It’s very good.” She also agreed that if we drove across town, she’d let us make a photocopy of the review. So Michelle strapped her toddler into the child seat, and we fought rush-hour traffic.

By the time we got there, the clerk had decided that since the staff had already read it, she would give us the PW. In gratitude, we ran to the romance section to pick up several books we’d been meaning to buy, added a board book for the baby, and paid for it all, then hurried outside, clearing the door by at least two feet before we finally were able to open the magazine and find the review. Oh, joy, oh, bliss. Not only was the review well written, not only had the reviewer actually read the book, the comments were indeed very positive. Among other things, it noted that the book was clever and funny, that Nicole Byrd had an “unpretentious writing style and sense of humor” and the book was a “delicious read.”

We shrieked, we jumped. People stared. The baby watched us with wide eyes. We got ourselves all safely into the car, read the review again, shrieked with joy again. Got home and found a phone call from our editor, who had just read the review, too, and didn’t shriek, but was very pleased. So we floated for several days.

Then we found Lady in Waiting had been reviewed in Booklist, the American Library Association publication. Also a biggie. Also very important. And again, the review was very positive. Nicole Byrd was clever, she was witty. It said so in black and white.

More joy, you’d guess? Yes and no. Michelle had left on a long-awaited and well-earned family vacation. Me, I sat for three days staring at the computer and couldn’t write. Every line I put down, almost every word, I looked at and thought, this is witty? No way. So I erased it again. I was paralyzed by the power of this amazing new expectation.

Beware the bad review, which can send you to your bed with a sugar hangover. Beware the good review, which can immobilize you by raising the bar so high that your accomplishment seems impossible to repeat.

So did I, like a sensible person, give up reading reviews forever? No, I wish. But I did what a writer has to do. Finally, I put them all out of my mind, as much as possible, and I plowed ahead, with the usual philosophy that if it stinks, I’ll fix it later. Or Michelle will, or she’ll tell me what’s awful, and I will. (There are definite advantages to having a writing or critique partner that you trust.) But I pounded the computer keys again, and I listened to my inner voice, not to any reviewer anywhere.

In the end, you go back to writing from your heart, your mind, your own spirit, and you write for yourself and hopefully for those readers whom you know enjoy your style, your voice, your vision.

And you remind yourself that for your mental and writing health, reviews — good or bad — have to be sampled lightly, like a really sinful chocolate champagne truffle. A little can perk up your day; too many can send you back to bed with a sick stomach. So if you can’t go cold turkey, my prescription is to allow yourself a few reviews, judicially spaced, flavored by a healthy dose of belief in your own work. And bon appetit!

***

Cheryl Zach and Michelle Place write Regency historicals for Jove Books as Nicole Byrd. Their last book was Lady in Waiting; their next release is Widow in Scarlet, out in September.

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