So I got a semi-negative review on goodreads. Okay, it was only a 3 star, so technically it was a neutral review. My friend Robin, the famous pianist (make sure you pronounce that correctly), told me that most people who don’t like your work will just not post rather than post a negative review. They won’t waste their time. This was comforting, sort of.

Because it could mean that there are LOTS of people out there who don’t like my writing, but are saying nothing.

And then there are all these WONDERFUL people who post really nice reviews. People who LOVE my book. I got me some five stars. They make my day and cause me to be even nicer to total strangers because my happy overflows.

Of course, that leaves me to wonder about the 4 star people. I’m one of them, so I kind of get it. I don’t give a 5 star rating unless the book was not only a fabulous-can’t-put-this-down read, but also changed me in some way. If it makes me question myself, my motivations, my actions, my plans, or simply makes me start doing things differently, then that’s a 5 star book in my book.

Still, I’ll gladly take a four star. Nothing to be ashamed of there.

I was once at a writers conference sitting in a workshop led by a relatively big deal writer who had several best sellers. The workshop was about social media and goodreads came up. The writer groaned and said, “I try not to let myself go there. It can wreck my day.”

At the time I thought – what a great problem to have.

It is.

#writer #I'mNotHer #goodreadsreviews #writing

I’m only beginning to think of myself as a writer. 

I’ve always written – for work, for fun, for my sanity. But up until now – when total strangers review my writing and pronounce it good – do I feel almost like a real writer. (I still worry that someone will find me out and expose the fact that I’m really an average, annoying mom-type who has way too many animals and drinks way too much wine.) 

Plus, I have this amateurish habit of starting sentences with a conjunction, know frighteningly little about grammar (I couldn’t even tell you what a predicate is), and took only two English classes in college (the two that were required).

Yet, (see?) here I am expecting people to pay money for my writing. Crazy.

Still, I have to wonder if everyone doesn’t feel this way. Masked insecurity seems to be a common human trait. Very few of us feel “good enough.” And the ones that do tend to come off very Donald Trumpish.

Where am I going with this little essay? 

Good question. If I was a real writer, I would know. But since I’m only a pretend writer, I’ll just say that right now, in my life, I feel incredibly blessed. And grateful. And I promise to stop using so many conjunctions to start sentences. Maybe.