Why I don't care if you hate my book

How a thick skin is essential for a published writer

Perhaps you thought my book was terrible, the cardboard characters straight from central casting, the plot derivative and dull. Perhaps you found Another Life’s Nick depressing or Anna a pain in the bum, or the time-hopping narratives of both my novels too hard to follow. Perhaps you disagreed with Sara Cox and the four celebs who all loved my debut novel on BBC’s Between the Covers (just had to drop that in…).

I have no interest in convincing you otherwise.

There's a book doing the rounds right now with a stellar Goodreads rating, rave reviews on both Insta and my book club. I didn't like it at all. I read over half of this veeerrry long book and could not understand the hype. The characters felt cliched, the plot thought itself twisty but I found it meandering, and I abandoned it after 350 pages. Life's too short, after all, for books that aren't your bag.

And that's just it. It wasn't my bag. Just as it was very much the 'it' bag for my book club and Insta. Some people like Birkins or Y2k baguettes or tiny bags with very large handles, while I'm very happy with a grubby Daunt Books tote.

Neither of us are right or wrong. We're just different.

So if you didn't enjoy my book, that's quite all right, because you have the right to your opinion, and other people’s opinions are no more 'right' than my own. Opinions aren't facts. Modern life tries to convince us otherwise, but they aren't. Our feelings should be respected but they are not 'truth' (I could write a hundred articles on why I feel this). Truth is unchanging, fixed, constant, but the beauty of feelings is they can change at any time. Our feelings on many things (politics, religion, meaning, sexuality, love) can depend on many factors - upbringing, culture, community - and a shift in any of those factors can shift many of those feelings. Feelings change; now that is a fact. It's a wonderful, beautiful, liberating truth.

And so your feelings on my book are influenced by many different factors. Perhaps before you picked it up, you read a novel that affected you so deeply that nothing following it could ever compete. We have perhaps a handful of life-changing books in our time, and it's a sad outcome for any book that comes next. Or perhaps there's a character in the book that cheats on someone, and you, the reader, have had that happen to you. Or a character reminds you of an ex or an enemy or someone you want to forget. My book is only going to wind you up.

I actually love this review of one of my books because what on earth does it mean

Why take personally what I cannot control? Your enjoyment is based on the colours of the disco lights inside your own brain. Your party is not my business. How you see the world is how you alone see the world.

And this is especially true, because...

The book I write is not the book you read.

The book I spend a year or two writing is all mine during that time of creation, my own private idaho. It's a world I imagine in my head which I try to get down on paper. But just as you could have five different artists draw five different versions of the same bowl of fruit, so too will the world created in your head while reading my novel be different to the one I wrote down. That's the beauty of creativity. We all have our own canvas and brush inside, paint waiting to be spilled.

I wrote my first novel Another Life in a 3 month maternity leave burst. The only person I needed to please was myself. I had no publisher then, no agent, no online reader calling it crap. I was in my bubble. Door shut. Nobody invited in until I was ready. It was my book.

As soon as I invited in an agent, it opened it up to subjective opinion. I was fortunate to have seven offers of agent representation, which meant I received seven different views. My question of what would you recommend I change in the book at those initial meetings yielded different answers and - with the exception of a few beta readers - was my first experience of inviting people in.

Penguin coming on board changed everything. It was no longer my baby, my burst of creative energy, but a product. A commodity to buy and sell. Capitalism is a beast that feeds on numbers and I need money to live. My relationship with my editor has been collaborative and I've felt heard on decisions made, but ultimately the book is no longer solely mine. I sold it to a publisher. I can be included in discussions, but ultimately, they can market and package it however they wish.

This is extremely freeing.

Once it's out there in the big wide world - by the time it reaches its readers - it's no longer mine or my problem. It's too late to fix anything, and really, too late to care.

Authors generally advise each other to steer clear of Goodreads. I get it, and if an author isn't particularly thick-skinned then it's a good idea not to venture into the deep dark woods, but Goodreads is a place for readers, not authors. The reader has the right to their opinion and should be able to express it in a safe space. They've dedicated several hours of their life to the book, after all. And again, they're just feelings. They're not real, not truly, not if we recognise that how we feel often changes from day to day.

Ah, not taking things personally. My life's work.

I live in endless fascination of those who turn reviews into maths

I realised how pointless taking reviews personally was when a friend said that when reading a book she never thinks about the author. This was exactly what I needed to hear. The review is not about me. I am not my book. To the reader, I am nothing.

That said, if a reader tagged me in a negative review or said it to my face, I would think Mm dickish move, not because of the opinion but because they think it acceptable to directly share their unsolicited thoughts. Goodreads is your place, negative reader, and my DMs are mine. Plus I learnt long ago not to be offended by stupidity, so if they're stupid enough to think that's socially okay then why bother caring what they think?

If you’re a fellow author reading this, I appreciate how hard it can be to let go. When you have poured your heart into a piece of work, it can feel so tied to you personally that you feel the need to defend it as you would someone you love. But fear of a bad review can be the kiss of creative death. It can be the reason you don’t pick up the pen the next morning, downtrodden because Johnny Public didn’t like your book. But who are you writing for? I can honestly say that I write for me. That’s what gets me to my computer each morning, that desire to tap in and receive word from the creative source. If that sounds woo-woo then it’s because it is woo-woo. Anyone who’s written a book and experienced that joyous rush mid-flow knows. It’s magic. The reader must be considered, yes, but they are a faceless unknown. You can’t please them until you first please yourself. And what’s the point of working in an industry rampant with rejection if you can’t do that? So who cares about Johnny Public. Feel annoyed if you want, but only for a minute, then let that minute go. Get back to that keyboard, that rush, that magic. Those reviews are not about you. And even if they were, what other people think of you is not your business. (That one sentence changed my life.)

And so, dear reader, I have my own version of Another Life and Oh, Sister, and you have yours. That's quite okay. If you loved it then YESSSS, and being tagged in these I LOVE THIS BOOK posts is always a beautiful thing. Who wouldn’t want to hear that their stories and characters mean something to others? It’s a joy. And if you hated it then genuinely, that's absolutely fine. I will passionately defend your right to your opinion, even if my opinion is that your opinion is worth jack shit.

*insert winking face emoji*