I read with great interest what was essentially a note to all authors who self-rate their books five stars.
That’s just so … just so … *tacky*.
Further, star-abuse is hands-down attributable to the fact that we authors as a lot must be inappropriate, ego-puffed cheaters with an aim to game the system.
(As if one review can even make a dent, for argument’s sake?)
Hello, my name is Emily Murdoch and I’m a self-rated five-star giver.
And I’m downright incorrigible.
Because, truth is, if we couldn’t rate our own book five stars, you’d be the ones we’d be cheating.
Chances are, those self-rated five-star books exist due to great and tedious artistic commitment and sacrifice; of time, money, fun, weekends, holidays, time with loved ones, friends and family, for salaries mostly impossible to live on, so most authors have more than one job.
Because writing is a job. We may love it; it may be a blessing and a gift, a way to share ideas to touch or entertain or enlighten or better the world, better ourselves, and for the sheer joy of it, yes.
But it’s work. Much work. Even if it’s work we love.
And so I give my own books five stars in celebration, in excitement to share the words, to help bring light or a lean or some kindness, goodness, compassion and understanding back into this tough world.
That there are readers or reviewers with the sole intent of one-starring self-rated five-star authors due to a personal hypothesis, without facts, is actually sad.
Sad to see the world of writing that way.
I woke up this morning slumped over in the faux-suede recliner with my laptop open on my lap, having fallen asleep over my current manuscript.
The writing time I could take was late night, so I took it.
Just as I will again, tonight.
My name is Emily Murdoch, and I am a self-rated five star author.
May everything you love and create be worthy of your own five stars.
#amwriting #amrevising #sleepingcountswinks #YAsaves