Dear fellow scribbler of strange worlds, snarky heroines, and questionable magical decisions, Let’s set the scene. You’ve finally hit publish. Maybe your book baby has emerged from the dark, coffee-stained womb of Draftlandia and into the wild, gleaming sunlight of Amazon or Goodreads. You’ve toasted it with champagne (or ginger ale in a wine glass—we’re not judging), you’ve posted the proud announcement, and then…

A review appears. And it reads something like:

“This book made me want to train a raccoon to eat books so this one would never reproduce.”

Oof. Is that… a compliment? A warning? A cry for help?

You stare at the screen. You reread the review. You descend slowly into the fetal position and question every life choice since the day you found that magical USB stick and decided, “Yes, I will write a 400-page fantasy about emotionally unstable selkies.”

Sound familiar?

Step One: Feel the Feels

Before we get to strategy, give yourself permission to mourn. Throw a mild tantrum. Gasp dramatically to your dog. Text your most emotionally available friend (or sibling) something like “Why do people hate joy?”

You're human. (Probably.) And criticism—especially when it’s delivered with the grace of a gremlin hurling bricks—is going to sting.

But once the shock passes, it’s time to arm yourself with knowledge, snark, and an adult beverage.

When to Care vs. When to Casually Set it on Fire (Metaphorically)

 Care When:

• The review includes specific, actionable critique. ("The pacing lagged in the second act" or "The dialogue felt stilted compared to earlier chapters.")
• Multiple reviews mention the same issue. Repetition often signals a real opportunity to grow.
• It comes from someone in your target audience. A fantasy reader who says, “I couldn’t follow the worldbuilding” is gold. Your great aunt Doris, who only reads Amish romance, saying “Too many sea monsters”? Less so.

Ignore When:

• The review is mostly insults without substance. ("The author clearly failed 5th-grade English" is not a literary critique, it’s a cry for attention.)
• They hate the genre, your character's name, or the weather patterns in Chapter 4. That’s a them problem.
• They complain that the book wasn’t something it never promised to be. ("I was expecting a clean Christian romance, not cursed selkie daggers and morally gray sea queens!")
•  …Did you read the blurb, Karen?

How to Bounce Back Like the Resilient Word-Wizard You Are

1. Create a “Sunshine Folder.”
2.  Save your best reviews, reader emails, fan art, and screenshots of people crying (the good kind). When your brain starts playing the “I suck” playlist, reread it until the inner critic shuts up.
3. Vent to Safe People, Not the Internet.
4.  Text your critique group. Make a meme. Go on a dramatic monologue to your dog named Violette about how you are a misunderstood genius. Just don’t clap back publicly. You’ll regret it, even if your burn is 🔥.
5. Write the Next Darn Book.
6.  Nothing silences the noise like more words. Especially better words. Growth is the best revenge.

Bonus: How to Write a Review That Doesn’t Make You a Troll

Bad Review Sample:

“This book sucks. The main character is stupid. Don’t waste your time.”

Better Review Sample:

“I struggled with the pacing in the middle of the book, and I found the main character’s choices frustrating at times—but I appreciated the author’s creativity and unique take on selkie mythology. With some tightening, this story could really shine.”

See the difference? One is a dumpster fire. The other is a helpful critique dipped in basic human decency.

When giving feedback, try this formula:

• Start with something you genuinely liked (“The setting was vivid” or “The magic system was cool.”)
• Mention 1–2 areas that could improve.
• Offer constructive suggestions if you can (“Consider developing the villain’s motive more clearly.”)
• Avoid sarcasm, even if you’re funny. Especially if you’re funny. It doesn’t read well in print.

Final Thoughts from the Deep

Look, not every reader is going to love your story—and that’s okay. You're not writing to please every person on the planet. You’re writing for the ones who get it—the ones who will treasure your words, feel seen in your characters, and carry your story with them long after they finish the last page.

Bad reviews will come. Some will sting. Some will be ridiculous. Some might even be helpful if you look past the sting and into the heart of the feedback.

But here's the truth:

One person's "not for me" doesn't erase the magic you've created.

Learn where you can. Laugh where you must. Protect your creative spark like it's the last candle in a storm.

And remember—a story that sparks strong feelings is a story that matters. Keep writing. The right readers are already searching for what only you can give them.