Why a bad review isn't so bad after all...

But I'd still quite like to meet the person who called me 'vapid and shallow'.

There’s a lot of work that goes into a writing a book. Especially if, like me, you’re not an influencer with a gazillion followers who has a ghost writer doing the hard work. Hours of research, hours of self-doubt, hours of agonising over the perfect turn of phrase to describe how it felt when x, y or z happened. When I hear people say their book ‘just flowed out of them’ I’m always a bit suspicious. I mean, it probably does happen that way for some people… But every writer I know (and given writing/editing is the only job I’ve ever had, I know ALOT) seems to have a rather different story to tell.

My friend Lizzy and I spent five years on adjacent desks at Time Out despairing that ‘there must be an easier way’ and fantasising about opening a cheese shop as we debated how to describe the gentrification of King’s Cross in one sentence and edited reams of east London pub reviews. Don’t get me wrong here, there is nothing I love more than writing (and I have been very lucky to make it a career) but I will never, ever try and claim that it’s easy because I know that it’s not. Not if you are trying to do it well, not if you are creating something new and original and emotive and magical.

Not for me, anyway.

So back to the books. I can only speak for non-fiction/memoir writing right now (fiction is on my vision board, though) but much of the following applies to both. First up: it’s a lot (even with a supportive and brilliant publisher on side).

There’s the idea, there’s the believing in the idea, there’s the sample chapters and the rewriting sample chapters and the tearing it all up and starting again. There’s the proposal, there’s the pitching, the meetings and the writing, the writing, the writing, the magical, wonderful, torture of writing (plus the finances that never quite add up). And then there’s the editing and the line editing and the final proofreading and the cover design approval and the acknowledgements (the fun part!) and the marketing meetings and the audio book recording (another very fun part!) where you realise to your horror there’s a typo in Byron Bay (hello Bryon Bay!) and send panic texts to your editor. And then there’s the launch planning and a party (if you decide to organise one) and the horror of putting yourself out there with some self promotion when you’re used to hiding behind a laptop. Most people don’t know I did an entire shoot for the Daily Mail the day after my book launch because I was too freaked out to tell anyone (and while the feature ran, I guess my stressed out smile and the make-up artist’s trowelled on foundation didn’t make the cut because they used some photos I sent them instead of their own!).

Writing and publishing A Year of Mystical Thinking is one of the greatest achievements and joys of my life (and I say that as someone who bagged tickets to the Eras Tour) but I distinctly remember sitting in my house on launch day (back in September 2021) feeling as exhausted as I was exhilarated and deciding I would never criticise another author’s book as long as I lived. Not now I knew what it takes.

I mean, I’m not someone who ploughs on with books I hate anyway… my policy is that life is too short and there’s always something else to start instead. And I have never felt inclined to write a bad review on the internet. But I have definitely told friends not to bother with certain titles because they just didn’t do it for me. And I have been horrifically judgemental of books I didn’t think were literary enough or well written enough or so repetitive they could have been a pamphlet. Cringe.

In the aftermath of two years of hard soul-searching work, that felt like something I didn’t want to do anymore.

I don’t know if it had even occurred to me yet that people might one day want to criticise my book. I had considered the possibility people might want to criticise me as a person because I’d read through the book at least twice wondering if any part of it could get me cancelled but it felt more like paranoia than a reality I’d soon be facing. I think I still found it hard to imagine that anyone was ever even going to read what I’d written.

The first online review for my book appeared on the day of publication! It was written on Amazon by a friend of my husband’s who’d pre-ordered under duress at a table for six in a pub garden (Covid vibes!) a few weeks earlier. It was glowing. I’d changed his thinking on the mystical world, ignited a spark, shown him something new (I’m paraphrasing here but it’s there if you scroll back in time on Amazon)…

Of course, I was instantly like ‘is he taking the piss?’. Surely he didn’t actually sit down and read the entire thing on the first day it was out? He only ordered it because we made him! Plus ‘everyone will think it’s fake anyway because it’s day one and positive and written by a man called Peter!’.

The thing was though, it wasn’t fake. I checked. And checked again. And had someone else check. It was real and he really had read it at high speed and it really had inspired him and flicked a switch in his mind. I really had written a book engaging enough that people who didn’t think they were remotely interested in the mystical world could read it in a day! I’m not bragging here, honestly. It was the shape of things to come.

I wasn’t an influencer with gazillions of followers but the reviews began to roll in. And Peter wasn't the only person who read my book in a day. People said they couldn’t put it down. They loved it. They were buying it for all their friends. It changed their outlook. It changed their life. It took over their weekend. It made one reader realise she could buy nice coffee! Someone else decided to immediately lock in and do everything I’d done in month order. Someone else told me they booked a trip to Rome because of me. People were sending pics of their vision boards. It was happening just the way I’d hoped it would. I was on Cloud 9. I’d done it. I’d written a book that people actually want to read! And one that was making a difference in its own way, one reader at a time.

And the five and four stars kept coming. They were there on Goodreads too. The worst I had were a couple of three stars saying they didn’t like it as much as they thought they would. All relative I assumed as I shrugged it off and continued to bask in the glory of the more glowing ones. The relief was palpable. I’d put my heart and soul into that book and people seemed to be taking it into theirs in the best possible way.

And then it happened.

And once again I hit the actual point of this post about 1000 words in. God I love long form! I guess this is where I’d put the paywall if I was bothering with that??? Which, for now, I’m not (I kind of hate the idea of cutting anyone off at the good part).

But yeah, you guessed it. A two star landed.

Right at the beginning of a brand new year (it was January 2022).

Right when I was trying to psyche myself up to write a new book proposal and put myself out there all over again. Right when my defences were low and I was tired and anxious and not really sure if I could pull it off a second time round.

And my god this person had it in for me so much she went on for paragraphs.

I was devastated. And shocked. And outraged. And totally fairly called out on some things. Yeah I suppose I did ‘name drop’ (without actually name dropping) a slightly famous ex for the hell of it. And yes there was plenty of privilege involved in my ‘manifesting’ a trip to my friend’s wedding in Australia (fully acknowledged in the book but hey, hey, I hear you, it is annoying)). I actually wrote an entire feature on Manifesting & Privilege for Glamour which you can read here if you’re interested.

It was just one person’s opinion but my god it hurt. And my word they went on about it. The review was so long and had so many spoilers it got hidden on Goodreads! I must have read it 100 times. I even contemplated the possibility of tracking said reviewer down and pleading my case. I wondered if she might delete it if I explained to her how hard it is to write a book. If I highlighted all the paragraphs where I actually has acknowledged my privilege. If I told her how worried I was that people would take my story the wrong way and that she was making me feel like I shouldn’t have written it. If I pointed out all her mistakes (it was Sri Lanka not Thailand, ha!). If she realised I was a person who had actual feelings here. When I found myself analysing all her other reviews on Amazon (mostly gym wear) I knew I had to stage an intervention on myself. And let it go.

And so I did. But I switched my obsession to reading other authors’ reviews and seeing if they had any two stars in the mix. Which sounds totally insane because, well, it is… but that’s also how I came to realise that bad reviews aren’t so bad after all. Especially when they make it really obvious that the person was engaged enough to read right till the end regardless.

I got a hold of myself.

Having any reviews at all is a privilege. It’s actually one of the very best and kindest things you can do for an author whose work you admire (or don’t admire to be fair). Anyone who takes the time to write one on Amazon or Goodreads is contributing something brilliant that helps the right readers find a book they might also love (or love to hate). It helps with the algorithm. It helps with sales. And not just sales on Amazon (which I am loathe to be mentioning every few sentences). Reviews are a good thing. And most people who read them are pretty discerning.

If every review is five stars and says something innocuous and vague two days after publication you kind of know the author’s mates are doing their duty. It’s not hard to tell when someone has actually read the book they’re talking about. Even when the end result is a three star. Or a really long disgruntled two star. And that’s what actually counts. To have people reading your book is another great privilege, especially when so many debut books sink without trace soon after publication.

What I noticed when I read bad reviews of other authors books is that it totally made me feel better! I’m joking (but also truth)…No, what it really made me realise is the bad reviews actually validate the good ones.

Extremes of feeling make art more worthwhile not less worthwhile. Creating a reaction of any kind counts for something, even if you’d prefer someone to get to the end feeling joyous and inspired. Once I started thinking that way – and if you’re a fellow author dealing with your first bad review or a new one who might be about to…take heed! - none of it really mattered anymore. I had still written a book people want to read, even if they hate it.

And only one person hated it enough to tell the world anyway. It was all good. I could breathe again. And the five stars kept on coming.

My act was officially back together. I started writing a new book proposal. And when my singular hater gathered some new recruits, I was more amused than upset. By 2023 I had acquired a trio of haters and they got increasingly personal too. Again it’s all there if you want to read about how ‘vapid and shallow’ I am on the internet. And genuinely I’m fine with it now.

In fact, when I write my next book I’ll be delighted if a few people hate it enough to spew some fury onto Amazon. Because I’d rather write something people read and react to than something that no one reads at all. And because the good reviews far out weigh the bad. And because I’m proud of that book. Even if it isn’t perfect. Because it isn’t perfect. We’re trying to ditch perfect remember? And because that book doesn’t really belong to me anymore anyway.

Once something is out in the world, it belongs to the world. It has its own journey to go on and its own work to do. And in doing its own work it will find people who love it so much they re-read it every year (thanks to everyone who’s told me they do this) and people who get really wound up that I bought some crystals or went on holiday or married a doctor.

If I met the person who called me vapid and shallow now, I’d probably thank her. For reading my book. For caring enough to write a review. For having a reaction. For sharing that reaction with the world. For showing me my blind spots. For teaching me to take the rough with the smooth. For making my genuine heartfelt five stars look more heartfelt and genuine because balance is everything in book reviews.

In fact, if you happen to ever read this and know I’m writing about you… reach out! I’ll send you a fancy PR advance copy when I write the next one.