Nervous? Plain old Fear.
It makes absolutely no sense as to why I can’t write reviews. I’ve done it for years. I like reviewing. I love supporting authors. Lately, I’m doubting my ability to write anything that comes close to making sense and not just coming across as blah blah blah and I liked it.
What if the authors don’t like what I have to say? Even with the ones appreciating and offering me positive feedback and thanks.
I’m also getting pickier in what is a good solid read. I’m looking for ways to be positive in those stories that need more work. Stories that started with interesting concepts, but failed at the delivery of a well-written showing. It’s not that I’m not wanting to write a negative review, I can and have written a balanced view.
I’m locked into the acceptance and trust of some pieces I should have read/reviewed years ago, but life took me off-path. What I would have written back then isn’t the person I am today.
Don’t I owe it to those authors to be honest…to any readers who have trusted me on my reviews? The two honesties being very different and very much the same. A fairness. A balance.
I never want to rip anyone’s work apart. To turn others away from the well-crafted. To discourage. To waste someone’s money on something I wouldn’t have bought.
Am I doing a disservice to those authors whose books are everything you want in a read? That they are hitting all the right notes and images. Their words are the ones that need shouting from all areas.
If I offer up a positive review for all, when does it start to fail for the strong?
And, this is only one aspect of why I’m stumbling. I will find my balance and I will write with honest fairness.
It’s my guilt for taking a long path and holding these reviews in an unintended hostage situation. I will remember and believe the words of the authors who have been understanding and accepting. Those who have kept their belief in me.
Enough of the self-doubt. Self-pity?
It’s time to get back to work.