Reviews and Why We All Need Them

As a young, published writer, I constantly checked my reviews. Twice, three times a day. Crazy. I know, right. The more reviews, the better exposure, sky-rocket to #1. Break-out authors happened back in the good old days. Kindle, Nook, ipad, didn't matter. Digital was the new black. Then algorythms happened, and trolls happened, and mergers happened, and you could buy reviews, for awhile, but somehow the earth righted itself and publishing settled down into e-reading as the new way of how to read. My mortgage set the tone for how many books/stories I should publish in a year. Back in the good old newbie days, when I was hungry for reviews (they could make or break a career), I would put in marathon days slaving over social media trying to find anyone who would read any of my books. Once I realized my reviews would come from trusted blog allies, not other people, I gave up trying to get them. If I wanted to write and publish to at least stay on the charts, then I couldn't be social with the media.

When I began writing contemporary romantic women's fiction under Robynne Rand, my usual friends gave me the stars I needed to be able to get on the charts. But then, I had a couple of reviews from people I did not know. Boosted ego aside, it was nice that they liked my stories. I made two of them cry. I write from the heart and I usually cry at some point during the writing. That's when I know it's a good book. I digress.

I finally published all the new short stories (see the side bar >>>) and had a love-fest on FB Valentine's night with my friends. There was much discussion about where they could buy them in paperback. (E-version only until I find time to reformat and make the covers.) I tried to explain to them how time-consuming it is and I didn't have the time, but it was like, once I didn't give them a link, they didn't care any more. I thought about the review for my first official FB launch. 5 out of 10. I started strong, but man, I kick myself when I think about the ppb sales I lost that night.

My daughter received her acceptance letter from the private high school we applied to. It is a relief off my shoulders and people have congratulated me. And then they go on to tell me what a fabulous daughter I have--she's smart, she's beautiful, she's kind and polite--with a surprise in their voice, as if, knowing me as they do, seem to doubt that I could possibly do such a thing. What did they think? I wouldn't know how to raise a decent, well-mannered young lady. I was one once. I remember the rules. Sometimes I think that being raised in a poor urban jungle showed me exactly how not to raise my daughter. I guess the reviews are in on my parenting skills.

I finished the short story writing class for the middle school. It was fun, but exhausting. The timing of our venture coincided, not only with the PTO Reader-thon, it was also the end of basketball season and all Varsity teams were headed into two tournaments over the last two weekends of the exercise. I cannot tell you how many parents came up to me at those events and thanked me for what I was doing. How much their kids had learned. I immersed the kids in the process of writing, and writing well, and what it means to be edited, and proofed. Judged for their writing skills, graded on all aspects of what it means to submit a short piece of fiction, formatting included. The reviews are in. I guess I have 10*. Two-thirds of the seventh grade parents asked me if I would do the writing exercise again next year even though my daughter won't be there. Tyler, the teacher, and I have chatted about it, but nothing is set in stone. (I suggested September. PTO wants January.)

My daughter is attending (today) the Model UN conference at the high school she will be attending next year. Model UN is a big thing at our school. All the kids get dressed up. On the way to school yesterday, my daughter was in a panic about what she could possibly wear to the event. She's a sweat-pants, t-shirt kind of kid. Even her "go out with friends pants" are actually jeggings. I told her I would go to our favorite store and see if I could find something. Just so happened, I was putting her clothes away and said to myself, "Let me just see what's in her closet." Lo and behold, was a gorgeous black dress, long-sleeved, just above the knee, would look great with her black boots and my white scarf, with a red-tag clearance sticker hanging from the armpit. Oh yes! I had done it once again. Saved the day with my red-tag clearance sticker priced items.

        I picked my daughter up from school yesterday afternoon (Tues. 26), and she asked,  "Did you go to our favorite store? Did you find me a dress?" I told her the dress was waiting at home. We got home, she ran upstairs, I ran downstairs. I finally saw her again around six. I asked, "So, what about the dress?"
        Open-mouthed, she said, "It's so perfect."
        I nodded. I had scored another 10* review on the Mommy-Meter.

As an old published author, I have very little time even to write, never mind socialize. However, the fastest way to sell books is by word of mouth. Oft times it comes in the shape of a review. I think I'm a pretty good writer. Selfishly, I wish more people would know that. No, this is not a plea for reviews, it's just an observation of having judged and been judged in several different situations over the last several weeks. A review to a writer is validation that people think well of your work.

It's nice to know people think well of me and my daughter.
It's nice to know people know I'm a good teacher.
It's nice to think that if I had published paperbacks instead of e-versions, I would have made a small fortune on Valentine's night.

Still learning from my mistakes.



Robynne Rand (c) 2019