The other day, The Headache got a one-star review. No comment. No “this book wasn’t for me,” no “the plot gave me a migraine.” Just… one lonely little star dangling there like a Christmas ornament on a tree in March.
Now, I’ve always believed feedback is a writer’s lifeblood. Tell me you hated my characters. Tell me the pacing was slower than a DMV line. Tell me my metaphors smell like reheated McDonald’s fries. But a silent one-star? That’s like breaking up with someone via an empty text bubble.
The funny thing is, The Headache was born from actual pain. Not just the creative kind — the pounding, skull-splitting, double-vision kind. I was pulling brutal morning shifts at McDonald’s, chasing fiction at night, living off caffeine and stubbornness. My main character, Thomas Gordon, had a wife to buy his pills. I had to get my own.
So yeah, when I see a one-star with no words, I can’t help but imagine the reader out there, closing my book, sighing deeply, and deciding, “Nope. Not even gonna tell him why.” Like they’ve tossed a pebble in my window and ran off before I could ask, “Who’s there?”
But here’s the truth: every review, even the cryptic ones, means someone took the time to read. And if The Headache managed to live rent-free in a reader’s mind long enough for them to log in, click one star, and vanish into the ether… I’ll take it.
Still, if you’re reading this and feel the urge to give The Headache your own rating, do me a favor — tell me why. Praise it, roast it, call it “the literary equivalent of a hangover.” I can take it.
Because silence might be golden… but in a writer’s world, it’s just confusing.
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