Word Power: If you can't say something bad, don't say anything at all

I was digging through some old files recently as part of my on-going decluttering project and came across a folder I had almost forgotten about.  It was one of those serendipitous events that got me to thinking yet again about this whole business of reviewing.

There are people who review semi-professionally: They are given books for the purpose of reviewing, though they don't actually get paid.  These books come from NetGalley or another online sources.  Or from publishers.  Or from authors.  Whether they act upon it or not, these reviewers have a motive to give good reviews and to inflate ratings.  If good reviews keep the free books coming, that's a motive.  If the reviewers can't afford to buy all the books they'd like to read or they like the attention good reviews bring them, it doesn't matter.  They have a motive.

That doesn't mean their reviews should be automatically deemed unreliable.  Again, having a motive doesn't mean they acted on it.

Furthermore, even if they acted on that motive, and like the late and unlamented Harriet Klausner gave every book five stars, they're free to do so.

And anyone who reads their reviews is free to discount or completely ignore them.  Or to trust them.

I have no problem with this.  We are each entitled to review what and how we please. 

If you don't like the way someone reviews, don't follow them or don't give their reviews any credence.  But please, don't tell them they're reviewing the wrong way or that they shouldn't review the way they do.  (Personal attacks on authors are not reviews, by the way.)

If you believe reviews should take the author's feelings into consideration, that's your opinion.  If you believe no review should be written unless the whole book has been read, that's your opinion.  If you believe reviews are supposed to help sell books and should therefore always be positive even if it means lying about the quality of the book, that's your opinion.

It's not mine.  If you are entitled to your opinion, am I not entitled to mine?

I don't think most reviewers lie about the books they read.  And those who do, frankly, are entitled to do so!  Their reviews are for readers, and readers will learn either to trust those reviewers or not trust them.  Readers are entitled to their opinions of reviewers, too.

A review, however, is not a critique, and to me this distinction is very important, which is why I titled this blog post with the twist on the old admonition about being nice.

The folder I came across contained score sheets and evaluation reports from a romance novel writing contest I coordinated more than 20 years ago.  The entries were the opening chapters of unpublished books (first 25-50 pages).  Through their entry fee, the writers had paid for and were guaranteed at least two critiques/evaluations in addition to a 20-element score sheet from three judges. (Possible score 0-100, with 100 being perfect 5 points on each element.)  The judges were experienced readers and many were also writers, with varying degrees of experience.  Each writer could compare the scores and comments from three different readers.

As the coordinator of the contest, I gave the judges a set of guidelines to help them provide the entrants, whether they won or lost, with  useful feedback.  The last item was:

Don't be afraid to tell the writer that something doesn't work for you.  Even if you can't explain WHY it doesn't work or tell her HOW to fix it, let her know this might be an area she needs to work on or get help on.  Is her description flat?  Is her dialogue stilted?  Does she make too many grammar or spelling mistakes?  Are her characters wooden?  These are unpublished manuscripts, so they aren't expected to be perfect!

There were over 100 entries, over 300 score sheets.  Only three of those score sheets came back with perfect scores, all from the same judge.  They were the only entries she read.  She gave them 100 points and her comments were identical on all three:  "I loved your book.  It was wonderful.  Keep up the great work!"

To put it mildly, none of the other judges who had scored these three manuscripts agreed with her.  I felt I had no choice but to find out why she had given perfect scores to three books, two of which the other judges found seriously flawed.

Through a series of emails (which are printed out in the folder) and phone calls (referenced in the emails), I asked her if she truly felt these three manuscripts had absolutely no problems or weaknesses and were so perfect that they could not be improved upon in any way.  She admitted she did not.

"Then why did you give them perfect scores?" I wrote in one of the emails.  "If you didn't think they were perfect, why tell the authors  they were?"

She replied:  "I didn't want to hurt their feelings.  I knew the other judges were probably going to give low scores so I wanted to be nice."

"Wouldn't that give them false hope and maybe prevent them from getting some help?" I asked in a follow-up.  According to the other evaluations, one of the manuscripts was riddled with spelling errors and misused words, such as "lightening" that should have been "lightning" and "custom" that should have been "costume."  One judge had scored it only 27/100.  "Did you basically lie to them?"

She admitted, "I suppose so.  I just couldn't be mean to them.  I wouldn't ever want anyone to tell me there's anything wrong with my book.  I want to believe it's wonderful because to me it is.  I'm sure that's what she wants to believe, too."

After several more exchanges along this line, I wrote:  "So it wasn't about what she expected to get out of the contest because you had no way of knowing that, other than she paid with the expectation of honest feedback.  For you, it was all about your feelings.  Even though you agreed to be honest and knew you might have to tell someone their book had problems, you knew ahead of time you couldn't and wouldn't do it."

Her reply to that was:  "I would rather lie out of kindness than hurt someone's feelings."

The contest rules allowed for re-judging if any scores were way out of line; I gave all three entries to another judge who was able to give honest scores.

I received very harsh criticism from some of the other judges for cancelling that judge's hard work in reading and judging. I defended my decision by pointing out that it was within the rules; I didn't mention that for all I knew, she never even read them, since she put no effort into the actual judging.

Anyway.

There was another manuscript that got rejudged in that contest, this one for a different reason.  Two judges rated it very high, well into the 90s.  The third gave it less than 20.  Again, as coordinator I asked her why she was so harsh on this entry, when the others she judged fared quite well.  As it turned out, she didn't like the story or the characters because she didn't recognize the particular conventions of this type of romance novel.  They didn't fit the kind of books she was accustomed to reading, and so she didn't like it and thought everything was wrong.

"You scored it 0 on spelling and grammar," I wrote to her in an email, also in the folder.  "Did it have any errors?"

Her reply:  "I don't know.  I didn't pay attention."

She was very angry with me when I told her it would have to be rejudged because her score was so far out of line with the other two.

"My opinion this is a poor written book irregardless of the category.  Doesn't my opinion count?"

In this case, no, her opinion didn't count, because she was giving inappropriate feedback to the writer.

"This isn't a review like in Romantic Times," I wrote to her.  "This book isn't done and edited and published.  You're not sharing your opinion of a published book that can't be changed with other readers as to whether you liked it or not.  This is between you and the writer who's looking for advice.  If you don't know anything about science fiction, would you try to help someone who's writing it?  Or a murder mystery?  You read [a particular category of romance novel] and this is [a different category] that has very different requirements.  Reviewing and critiquing are two different animals."

Also in the folder was a letter I had received from one of the entrants after the contest was over.  Though she had not won, she placed well with decent scores.  She thanked our group for sponsoring the contest and especially for guaranteeing that the writers would receive feedback.

"My family members and my critique partners are all too nice.  They won't tell me what's wrong with my book.  If publishers reject it without any feedback, where else is a writer suppose [sic] to get any?  Your judges all made comments that gave me points to look for improvement that I wouldn't have thought of."

There are a variety of techniques suggested for softening the blow of a bad critique, such as balancing each negative comment with a positive one of equal weight or offering alternatives to what's already been written.  

 For example, in an unpublished contemporary romance I wrote several years before that contest, the heroine wears a dress with a plunging neckline when she goes to a bar.  One person who read the manuscript scribbled on it something to the effect that "no decent woman would dress like that!"  Because all of her other comments were similarly harsh and insulting -- and I had not solicited her opinion in the first place -- I dismissed them all.  Only years later did I realize her comment about the dress was correct, but not for the reason she stated.  The heroine was very shy and retiring and had been through a significant emotional trauma; she had bought the dress in an effort to break out of her shell and overcome her reluctance to engage socially with a man she found attractive.

Had my critic made a suggestion that I provide the character with more motivation for wearing such a dress, I might have thought differently about it.  Had she asked me why the character dressed in such a manner, I might have been able to provide an answer that made sense.  But she had no positive comments, no suggestions, just angry complaints.

On top of that, I had not asked for her opinion.  I had not given her the manuscript for a critique.  She was not a judge in a contest I had entered voluntarily or a member of a critique group I had joined voluntarily.  After that experience, I never let anyone else read the book.  It rests in my files right now, with the copy she marked up in the folder with the original.

As stunned as I was by the nastiness of her critique, I didn't stop writing, didn't stop seeking critical input.  But I was very careful where I got that criticism from.  There was no sense asking for comments from people who were not qualified -- in my opinion, of course -- to render judgment on my writing, on the solidness of the plot, the credibility of the characters, the accuracy of the research.

When random Twitter users complain, as one did a few days ago, that authors ought to accept occasional suggestions from random readers, my reaction was a swift and strong, "No!"

First, writers at any stage of their careers need qualified input; random Twitterers don't meet even minimum standards that would allow any of them to demand that their opinion be taken as gospel.

Second, writers at any stage of their careers have the right to refuse criticism, regardless what the critic's qualifications may or may not be.  Random Twitter troll or multi-published, award-winning author, their comments can be rejected by the writer for any reason or no reason at all.

Third, critiques prior to publication are entirely different from reviews of the published work.

Allow me to repeat:

Third, critiques prior to publication are entirely different from reviews of the published work.

Critiques are for the author and are about an unfinished work. They are intended to help the author improve the work, whether the author accepts them or not.  They may come from informal critique partners, contest judges, semi-professional beta readers, professional agents or editors or proofreaders or sensitivity readers.  They are solicited directly or indirectly by the writer, and the acceptance or dismissal of any suggested changes to the work in progress as a result of the critiques is always at the writer's choice.

Reviews are for readers and are about the finished work after it is published.  They are intended to inform readers' decisions to read or not read the work. Reviews may come from qualified or unqualified readers, people who are intimately familiar with the genre and the language as well as the uninformed fan who doesn't know the difference between an adverb and an antagonist. They can be solicited or unsolicited, but there are sometimes ethical considerations involved with solicited reviews. Authors have little to no control over who reviews their published books and shouldn't have any.

I've said it before and I will say it again: If you are a writer and you choose to publish your work and make it available to the reading public, whether you charge money for that reading or give the work away for free, you give up the right to complain about comments made about your work without pushback.  Sure, you can comment.  You can rant and scream and whine and cry.  But ultimately, the reading public will have its say.

If the negative remarks of random readers you've never met -- and probably will never meet -- cause you emotional pain, don't read them.  They aren't for you.

If you are a critic, be honest with your criticism; the writer wants and needs your honesty.  If they lash out at you for your honesty, drop them.  They didn't want or value your honesty.

If you are a reviewer, review the book honestly for your readers.  They're the audience, not the writer who basically said, "I'm done, it's finished."  If you can't be honest, if you can't point out the bad along with the good, at least be honest with yourself.