Dear Reader Who Didn’t Love My Book,
First of all, thank you. You took a risk on me. I really appreciate that. Asking a stranger to read your novel is just about the hardest thing we writers have to do. (Apart from writing query letters.) So when someone actually decides to purchase a book, we experience a rare and wonderful gratitude that you decided to take the plunge.
A rare and wonderful gratitude that is quickly buried by an avalanche of anxiety.
See, here’s the thing: I want to have written the book just for you. I do. But there’s a good chance I didn’t. It’s not that I don’t respect your personal taste in fiction – I am a cheerleader for diversity in books and the people who read them. Love what you love, and do so unapologetically. But whenever someone picks up my book, I reach for a tremulous hope that it will be the next thing you love unapologetically.
When it is? Well, we’ve just proven that magic is real. That’s the only word to adequately describe the inexplicable connection between writer and reader. Somehow a writer finds a story and manages to write it down, and then a reader – usually a complete stranger – finds herself in that story. How did she get there?
I’m pretty sure when you picked up my book, you were hoping for magic. Otherwise, why read a book at all? Okay, there are other reasons. But magic is the best reason. So you started reading, and maybe a few pages in – or perhaps as late as a few chapters – you started to get a sinking feeling, a gut-level ache that told you my book was absent magic.
I’m sorry you didn’t find yourself in my words. I mean that, sincerely. After all, you invested time and money in hopes of making a connection. Do I still believe in my book? Yes. Usually just slightly more than I believe I’m a hack. (It’s a writer thing.) True, my ego gets bruised from time to time when people say they didn’t love the fruit of months, sometimes years of hard work. But I won’t spend even one second trying to convince you why you’re wrong. Because you’re not.
I didn’t write it for you. Wish I could have warned you of that in advance. (My time machine is on the fritz, else I would.)
I truly hope the next book you read is chock full o’ magic. Meanwhile, feel free to share your non-magical experience in a review. A thoughtful negative review is just as valuable to a writer as a thoughtful positive one. Your words probably won’t change my approach to writing, but they will remind me of an important and universal literary truth: no book is for everyone.
And that’s okay.