One Stars Aren't So Bad

People quote Gregg Popovich, former head basketball coach of the San Antonio Spurs, as saying, “Other people’s opinion of you is none of your business.”

I wish I had heard that suggestion and internalized it years ago; my life would have been easier had I not stressed over others’ opinions of me. It’s not that it hindered my work, nor even influenced my decisions; I have always had a stubborn streak; I was going to do what I was determined to do. The concern I held about others affected my private time. I stewed over events and moments; replaying what I said and what I could have done. It was a massive time sink that rarely yielded positive results.

I come from a long line of pleasers; a trait I would argue is a good thing. Better to be a people-pleaser than a habitual pain in the arse. However, too much emphasis on pleasing is a recipe for disaster. You might never say no, or you might spend your time serving everyone else at the expense of your own needs.

The past ten years have taught me to disregard the opinions of others. It has been a freeing experience. That is until I started writing for public consumption. Putting yourself out there lends itself to harsh feedback. Our society loves to criticize. Remember, a few decades ago, dismissing a movie critic who blasted a film was common. I recall looking down on critics as nothing more than negative people. Over time, the prevalence of “experts” who can’t do anything but opine on other people grew. I saw this with sports talking heads. The more controversial they were, the better.

If the world had stayed constrained to local criticism, that would have been manageable; the internet and social media changed all that. Now everyone can be a critic. Behind the veil of online anonymity, people can freely express their opinions endlessly. They can offer their views without repercussions. What fun it is to break down others.

I, for one, don’t care for those who feel the need to share their views as though I can’t live without knowing how the server at my local pub got their order wrong. “I didn’t want ketchup; I wanted mustard, and I was very clear about that when I ordered. The entire experience left me traumatized. I wish I could give them zero.”

Wow, I am glad I know my local pub is that incompetent; aren’t you?

You might have guessed. I received my first one-star review for my latest book, Lost in the Holler. I will be honest; the review momentarily took me aback. It made me wonder what was so bad that someone felt the need to hammer the book. Didn’t they understand how much work I put into it? Couldn’t they see that until then I had only received four- and five-star ratings? If only I could talk to them.

And then, sanity replaced my mind. Writing is a labor of love. Writing a book is harder than I thought it would be. And don’t tell anyone, last week I noticed two typos in the book. I don’t know how they got there; my quality assurance process seemed foolproof. Obviously, it wasn’t. The result, I am considering what punishment I should inflict upon myself.

I would like to be perfect, to deliver pristine novels that are above reproach. Maybe someday I will. Or maybe I will continue to have minor flaws that show up. Who knows? Regardless, I will try to get it perfect. It isn’t easy.

I completed the final edits for the audio version of Lost in the Holler. It was a laborious process I didn’t enjoy. I worked hard to ensure the proper pronunciation of each word and that the accents reflected the characters. I am excited about the release. It should be within a week.

There were 150 actors who auditioned for the role. There is no shortage of talent. I chose a gentleman from the South whose accent and pitch were perfect. His reading of the novel was interesting; that is until he tried to pronounce Vols. As you know, I have a particular affinity for my alma mater. I couldn’t allow my first audiobook to be released with the wrong pronunciation of Vols. It took four tries to get it right; I don’t know if he couldn’t figure it out or if he was a Bama fan and was enjoying toying with me. On the fourth try, after I told him it rhymes with balls, he nailed it.

I love the audio version, but I know someone will complain. They will point out that the accent reminds them of North Georgia and not Northeast Tennessee. Inevitably, I will get a one-star review.

But when I do, I won’t see it. My days of peeking at my reviews are ending. What someone says won’t change what I am doing; I intend to get better without anonymous encouragement. Popovich had it right; it is none of my business.

A last word, thanks to the mysterious one-star person. Your vote makes the reviews look balanced. No longer can someone assume only my family members have given me reviews. On second thought, it might have been a member of my family who gave me one star. I need to think about that.