Ignorance isn't just bliss, it's essential.
This morning I read fellow Tenner Steve Brezenoff's blog post about how he cancelled his Google alerts and made a decision to stop looking for the endgame in this whole writing thing. I honestly read the post and then moved on without thinking about it until I read a review of Deathday that pissed me off.
Since Deathday came out, I've done my very best to be zen about reviews. I avoid them if possible. I remember in 2009 following the flameout of a romance author who got into a fight on Amazon with a bunch of readers over some bad reviews, and I made the decision right then never, ever to become one of those people. Bad reviews happen and I should get over it. But this review was particularly annoying for reasons that aren't important. What's important is that it pissed me off. And I was pissed off for a a while. Until I remembered Steve's post.
Reviews don't matter. A bad review, one person missing the point so badly that I'm not sure they even read the book, doesn't change the fact that I loved writing it. I love the characters. I loved working on it with my editors. I love holding it in my hands and knowing that it's out there. I'm not going to stop writing what I love.
So I took Steve's advice. I cancelled my Google alerts. My Goodreads Author page is dead to me.
Because writing is its own reward.
People who read the book, they have the right to feel any which way they want to about it.
And I have the right to plug my fingers in my ears and shout, "Nah, nah, nah, nah! I can't hear you!"