With almost forty thousand copies combined of the Superior Mysteries out there, it was only a matter of time, but I’ve started to get a few negative reviews. Not enough to change the overall 4.6/5 Amazon ratings of either book, but, surprisingly, enough to get at me a little bit. I pride myself on my generally thick skin, but when it comes to writing, apparently, I’m as sensitive as a peeled grape.
I find myself wanting to defend certain decisions I made on character and plot. I want to explain what a few readers obviously missed. I want to break down, sobbing like a wuss, and cry out “why don’t you love me?”
I mean shouldn’t everyone love my work – if I’m good enough?
But the truth is, my Superior Novels are mostly for entertainment, and maybe a little bit for art. I can’t think of any form of either one of those that is universally adored by all. For example, there are certain genres of music I just don’t care for. And even within a genre I love, there are certain artists who just don’t do it for me. I bear these people no ill will. I’m certain that they are talented enough to find a sizable audience who does love their stuff. The fact that I don’t care for their music is not an ultimate judgment upon their talent.
I have to learn to accept that I am not the one worldwide exception to all this when it comes to writing.
One thing does puzzle me, however. I rarely finish reading a book I don’t like. Life’s too short. Who reads a book you dislike all the way through, so you can write a negative review?
I did that once, a few years back, and I just have to say, Ed Gorman, I apologize. You’re a fine human being, a talented writer, and I wish you the best in finding your devoted audience.