Letting Your Book Baby Grow Up

I was revisiting an author’s meltdown from a few years ago, and honestly trying to figure out why someone would put a book out into the public and expect only positive reviews. I got caught at one end of this dynamic a couple of years ago when I left a two-star review on a book I had high hopes for, and the author tracked me down in email and asked me to remove my review. That was more than a little bit freaky. I didn’t back down, and luckily the author left me alone after that one contact, but it’s a little scary to have that happen at all.

Then I started thinking about what a very wise woman said to me this last week – that I am scared to lose control of my own work, and that’s part of my problem in putting myself out there. Mea culpa. I know better than to argue with a reviewer – that way leads both madness and more bad reviews – but the fact is that I am terribly frustrated by anything that isn’t a perfect review. And since I don’t write perfect books, and my taste isn’t necessarily shared with all of the known universe, of course I’m going to get some poor reviews. Looking at my favorite authors, those who I think of as brilliant, I see plenty of poor reviews – a couple are even from me when a favorite isn’t writing to my expectations.

And that’s the thing – I don’t write just for myself. I write because I have things to say, and I don’t want them to simply echo around in my head. I wouldn’t need to write, if all my stories were for myself – I’d just stay in my head a lot of the time and plot quiet stories. And so I have to send them out in the world, to make their living on their own merit, and not the fact that I am the one writing.

I’m also the mom of three adult sons. Figuring out the balance between allowing a child to try something potentially harmful and keeping them safe has required quite a few judgment calls over the years. I held my breath when my oldest did wrestling and football, talked with him via text when he went out late with his friends, and had to trust his common sense when he hit eighteen and made major life decisions. I bit my tongue when my second son made some choices I wish he hadn’t. Those choices are now working out well for him, and I have no idea if what I’d wanted for him would have worked out better. Very possibly not. I’m now coaxing my youngest into more independence, and simultaneously having this urge to protect him as he navigates the adult world for the first time.

What does this have to do with my books? “My book is my baby,” is a widely-known cliché. That feeling of intense protectiveness makes it very hard for an author to detach from it, when its reception into the wider world of writing isn’t a given. My baby is going out into the world, and I have no control at all over what people think of it.

The fact is, by the time you’ve put your book into the world, it’s no longer an infant. It isn’t crying for you to feed it more suspense, pooping bad plotting, and giving you heartfelt smiles of good characterization. It’s an adult. And like an adult, if you don’t let it go, it will never reach readers who are out of the writer’s sphere of influence. Please note that this is not an attempt to say that an adult living with their parents is automatically bad – there are plenty of good reasons they might do so (my youngest still lives at home for some of those good reasons). Likewise, it’s fine to have a book you share with a few friends and family. What you can’t have is an independent book that you keep complete control over. It’s a contradiction in terms – it’s cake both eaten and uneaten.

It’s advice I need to take for myself. Rejection is tough, and knowing that some will reject my work is part of a writer’s process. That doesn’t have to mean I love it, but the end result may not only be less terrifying than my imagination, but also more rewarding.

Excuse me now – I’m off to practice what I preach!