Dear Indie Annie,
I know it’s something every author deals with, but I’m heartbroken over my first one-star rating. What do I do?
Bad Review Blues
Darling Bad Review Blues,
Oh, honey, grab yourself a refreshing mint julep, and pull up a chaise longue. We’re about to dive into the treacherous waters of the one-star review, and your favorite auntie’s got some wisdom to impart.
First off, welcome to the club, sweetheart! You’ve just earned your “I Survived My First Literary Drive-By” badge. Wear it with pride, right next to your “I Finished a Damn Book” medal. Every author worth their salt has been through this rite of passage. It’s like losing your writerly virginity—uncomfortable, probably disappointing, but ultimately necessary for growth.
Apologies to the pearl-clutchers for that little analogy, but it’s a fitting metaphor. And to continue, before you head off “singing the blues,” let’s address that broken heart of yours.
A one-star review feels like your book baby just got called ugly at its christening, doesn’t it? How very dare they have such a loud and rude opinion! But remember, darling, opinions are like belly buttons: Everybody’s got one, and some are more lint-filled than others.
In the modern world, we have transgressed far from the wisdom of our ancestors, who said that if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. Many now believe they are being honest and just speaking their mind. But honey, no one asked you. Except, of course, we did, because readers want to know what others thought before they think for themselves.
Having said that, my sweet, don’t be alarmed, because for every bad review there will be good ones, too. The Irish poet Brendan Behan once quipped, “There is no such thing as bad publicity except your own obituary.” And my sweet child, you ain’t dead yet! And this one-star review isn’t going to kill you.
Think of that lone star as the literary equivalent of a pimple on prom night. Sure, it feels like the end of the world right now, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s just a tiny blemish on your authorial complexion. Your book is still the belle of the ball, even if one grumpy wallflower didn’t ask it to dance.
As for moving forward, here’s what you do: Channel your inner Elizabeth Bennet, and let that pride and prejudice fuel your fire. Did our girl Lizzy crumble when Lady Catherine de Bourgh threw shade? Hell no! She stood tall, arched an eyebrow, and went on to snag the brooding Mr. Darcy.
Your job is simply to keep writing—and honey, you’d better. Let that one star be the wind beneath your wings, propelling you to greater heights. Use it like Scarlett O’Hara used those curtains, and transform that negative energy into something fabulous that’ll make them all green with envy.
Remember, sweetpea, even the great Bard himself probably got a few thumbs down from the groundlings. Did that stop him from penning Romeo and Juliet? Not on your life! So dry those tears, put on your big girl panties, and get back to that keyboard. Your next bestseller isn’t going to write itself, and success is the best revenge.
Happy writing,
Indie Annie
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