Our guest post this week comes from author Jane Bwye who gives some advice on Coping With Adverse
Criticism
If only reviewers would realise how much angst they cause by
just one or two hasty words! There are more ways than one to clothe your
comments, turning them into constructive thoughts and aiming at the readership
rather than the author or the book.
Coping with adverse criticism is difficult. We may be advised
not take everything personally - it is the book which is addressed, we are told;
people don’t think of the author when reading a book, unless it’s an
autobiography. And the writer should have got used to exposure and criticism in
the battered journey towards publication.
And at least someone has taken the trouble to read your book.
That’s all very well … in my case (don’t you find you’re always worse off than
anybody else?). I requested a review for
an e-zine, and sent her an e-copy. I waited and waited … then eventually gave
her a little prod.
An email came winging back. She didn’t have an e-reader,
she’d tried reading my book on her computer, had read the first chapter, but it
hurt her eyes. Could I send her the book? I didn’t blame her – apart from
anything else, I prefer to curl up with a book in my armchair, than sit on an
ergonomic apparatus peering at a screen. She held out a carrot: as well as
publishing the review in the e-zine, she would also put it in the next issue of
a Newsletter she wrote for her local exclusive Club, which had a large library.
Fair enough. I despatched a copy to her and waited some more.
Every month I scanned the e-zine in vain, until – I couldn’t
believe my eyes! She summarised the story and started to question its
credibility. It was a NOVEL, but perhaps she was reading it as a history,
trying to identify places, which I’d deliberately kept vague … then I came to
the final sentence.
The entire book will satisfy neither Kenyans, nor Colonial survivors if
they read it: they both surely are the only authentic judges.
My heart tore in two and dropped into my boots. Then
righteous ire welled up, mixed with intense hurt. The cheek of it … I was there
– where was she?
I took a deep breath. Cool it, Jane; sleep on it. She was
probably put off the book from the beginning, trying to read it on the computer;
I had often started reading books myself while in the wrong mood and that had
coloured my perception. And perhaps I’d made a miscalculation sending it to her in the
first place.
I only felt marginally better in the morning so I waited
another 48 hours before drafting an email, and another two days before amending
it and sending it on. No point in antagonising her further, but she did have a
precious copy of my book.
I thanked her for taking the trouble to read it, and asked
her if she would donate it to her Club library.
Back came an email saying she felt horribly embarrassed about
producing a negative review, but it was her honest opinion. Of course she would
donate the book to the library, and on behalf of the Club, she thanked me for
the gift. She would not publish her review in the Newsletter, as she felt it was not a wise move and much
better to leave it to library members to form their own opinions. I was
grateful for that small mercy and relieved that if we met in the future I would
be able to greet her with a genuine smile. No doubt some members at her Club
might hold the same views, but perhaps a little controversy would stir up
interest in the book, for several of my contemporaries from Kenya had expressed
their enthusiasm and praised its authenticity.
So there you go – swings and roundabouts, mountains and
molehills. But it hurt while it lasted.
Come to think of it, coping with adverse criticism is but one
step further on from dealing with indifference, really – especially when you
socially network like mad and the best response you get is but a few “views”.
You scan your feedback daily and try to draw comfort from one or two “likes”.
You are over the moon when one person comments and your day is well and truly
made when a couple of people respond to your thread and you can get a conversation
going.
Blogging can be worse. You spend hours honing on what you
want to say, and even more time
searching out and scanning photos so your readers’ eyes don’t blur at all those
words on the screen. It’s all ready, and you have to get up early to make the
post and propagate it because you’re told readers like to have regular bursts
and the rest of your day is full. Then when you return that evening, a mere
dozen hits have been recorded on your website and none but a few spam comments
have appeared. (How do they do it? These spams appear with no corresponding
rise in number of views I’ve discovered – but that’s a subject for a computer
geek, perhaps).
You doggedly blog on, then in desperation, send out a
heartfelt plea … like a cyber-friend, who talked about blogging a dead horse. My heart went out to him and I told him if it were
any consolation, his record number of views in a day outstripped mine by far.
We’ve been buddies ever since, and I’ve actually put his book at the top of list
next time I top up my kindle (it helps that we both love horses).
The secret is to write from the heart, rather than worry about views and
comments, but we’re all human, I guess.
You can read about Jane’s book BREATH OF
AFRICA, listen to the trailer, and sample some reviews on her website: http://janebwye.com/breath-of-africa
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