About what I said earlier…about not reviewing books anymore.
Yeah, forget it.
If you are remotely connected to publishing, you know what’s going on with Romance Writers of America. It’s a flaming Dumpster brew rolling in flood waters towards a cliff. I don’t need to detail what others closer to the industry have eloquently said about the situation. RWA is a place that many people ruined because racism and elitism. It sucks.
Also, it’s a place that remains silent when reviewers experience issues with doxxing and harassment. A noted book blogger pointed out on Twitter that the recent attitude toward reviewers, and RWA verbiage, has created an atmosphere in which people do not want to discuss books, much less review them.
I love books. Books got me through the last three sh*t years. When I can’t write, I read. I used to tell people I may not be an author forever, but I will always read. The combination of personal issues and this volatile battleground mentality keep me from doing one thing I enjoy: talking about books.
I get why some people stop. Who needs the hassle? We have families and jobs, lives, bills to pay. We have enough frustrations, so why contribute to a situation that encourages dogpiling? Thing is, that’s not the point of reviewing. A review shares one person’s opinion of a book. A reader discerns from there whether or not to read the book. Enthusiastic and negative reviews sell books – I admit to buying books others found lacking.
The idea that reviews can destroy careers baffles me. Lack of reviews, maybe. Visibility increases the chance of sales. When reviewers go away, there’s silence. I’d take a one-star review of my book over radio silence any day.
Here, of course, is where I insert the “not all.” The angry horde represents a small subset of authordom. My author mind acknowledges that without readers, we are nothing.
As a reader, I miss talking about books. I miss sharing.
So indulge me while I share. Watch this space.