No snark. Bad puppy. No. (Review stuff.)

A two star Amazon review on His American Detective: "Bodice ripper about gay men by a woman."
and I'm longing to comment "don't you mean a waistcoat ripper?"

God, no. Stop me.

The reviews rarely rattle me any longer -- except when I spot a truth in a bad one. When that happens, I actually lose sleep. This means I still care about writing. 

Speaking of reviewers and writers:

A couple of days ago, a writer said she was tired of getting white ladies writing reviews of her books. She had an excellent point in the long run: her stories are meant for a particular audience and she wants them to resonate with those people and get more reviews from them. 

But that first line was just....horribly obnoxious. I say this from my POV of course. Not a white lady who writes reviews -- but as a review grubber.  

Anyone who disses any reader (especially ones that give honest reviews) deserves to be cast into the pit of being ignored.  

The big phrase these days is "privilege" I argue that writers who have never experienced putting out a book to thunderous silence should understand that they operate from a position of privilege. They should understand that getting good notice on their books is something they shouldn't take for granted. 

Having occupied both sides, I know this to be A Truth. 

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