01 Apr
01Apr

“Criticism is something we can avoid easily by saying nothing, doing nothing, and being nothing.” –attributed to Aristotle

In connection with the release of Timeless a few weeks ago, I went on a “blog tour,” which means that every day for about two weeks one or two internet bloggers featured my book in some way on their websites and/or social media. Some also signed up to read and review the book, which is great because the more reviews a book receives on platforms such as Amazon, the higher up in search results the book goes. (If you have read Timeless, please leave me a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or the platform of your choice!)

Every time a new review pops up for Timeless and I start to read it, I get a little nervous. I want every review to be a five-star, “this is the best book I’ve ever read” review, but of course that’s impossible. Some readers have really enjoyed the book (thank you!), and that makes me happy, but others… not so much. (One reviewer called my hero Will a “wet noodle”—poor Will!)

Why does it matter to me when someone gives me a bad review? I enjoyed writing my book, I worked hard on it, and I’m proud of it—shouldn’t that be all that matters? Logically, yes, but unfortunately most people (myself included) want to be liked. We want the things we do, the art we create, the work we produce to be understood, appreciated, and adored. As a result, when a person picks up my book, I want them to love reading it because I loved writing it and because if they don’t love my book, then maybe they don’t love me. (This is an irrational conclusion, of course, but that doesn’t mean my mind doesn’t go there anyway.)

After reading and thinking about a number of unpleasant reviews over the course of my writing life, I have put together a short list of reasons for why a reader might not like a story I thought was pretty darn good.

(1) I am not perfect. What I want to do when I write a story and what I actually end up doing can be two different things.

(2) My perspective is a result of my personal experience and how I have processed it. It is my upbringing, it is my beliefs, it is my morality. It is what I have observed in those around me. It is what I have read and what I have done and what I have seen. All these things color the story that I tell. Other people have had a different experience, and their experiences color how they perceive my message. Perhaps if I did a good enough job expressing my story such gaps could be bridged. And perhaps not.

(3) People are different. They like different things, they have different priorities. And that’s okay—in fact, it’s good. Variety sparks creation. A difference in opinion can be the birth of a whole new story idea.

In the end, as (maybe) Aristotle says, if you’re going to do something or say something or be something, you’re going to have to expect that not everyone is going to like it. Not everyone is going to appreciate it or understand it or enjoy it. And that’s okay. The important thing is that we keep doing. We keep writing and saying and being who and what we believe we should. We gain what we can from the criticisms, those pieces we can learn and improve from, and we discard the rest. And we take comfort in the fact that we did something worth talking about in the first place. 

- Kathryn Amurra

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