Never Read the Comments (But You Can Read the Reviews)

Last Friday, I had a super awesome thing happen: The Wall Street Journal covered the relaunch of my first book, Party Girl, which I decided to PG-ify and re-release. (I also went on Access Hollywood to promote the relaunch, which was also fun.)

Anyway, I was very proud of the WSJ story—less proud to be written about than I was proud of how I handled it, which was with sheer appreciation.

As I wrote about last week, I have ruined so many gifts I’ve been granted. When I had an essay published as a New York Times “Modern Love,” I didn’t do a happy dance. Instead I read every single comment—and there were hundreds—that attacked the quality of the writing and me personally. I was in Idylwild with a friend the weekend the story came out but instead of exploring, I sat in a cabin with a sporadic wifi connection and obsessed about the comment someone made about how I had to be sleeping with someone at the New York Times for them to agree to publish my trash.

But for this WSJ story, I only focused on what a blessing it was that my book that I’ve loved so much got this attention. Not all aspects of the article were positive but I didn’t care. And when I saw the comments pile up—creeping into the hundreds and then the two hundreds—I didn’t glance at them. I mentioned that I wasn’t reading the comments to a friend who went and looked at them, smiled and supported me in my decision not to take a gander.

“Bad?” I asked.

He nodded.

“About me having been a ho?” I asked.

“That and about being self-absorbed.”

I swear to you, dear reader, I did not and do not care. Why yes, I am self-absorbed. Name a writer—nay, a human—who isn’t.

My point is this: if you’re lucky enough to have your book receive attention, you will attract negative comments. And I say that’s a sign that you’re doing something right: you’re triggering the shit out of someone. And I can guarantee that the someone you’re triggering is not living their best life. My guess is that a person compelled to criticize a stranger being written about would like to be putting themselves out there but is paralyzed by fear. Why else would they spew hatred on a stranger? Honestly, the writing part of writing a book is the easy part. It’s the willingness to put yourself in the line of fire that requires the real courage. It’s much easier to sit on a couch and write a nasty comment.

Now, when it comes to reviews, this is easier said than done. You can’t just not read your reviews. I mean, you could but it would be hard. Harsh commentary from strangers about something you killed yourself on sucks. But again, it goes back to their fear, best summarized by Jay Z in “Already Home”: And as for the critics, tell me I don't get it. Everybody can tell you how to do it, they never did it.

I’ve handled this better some times than I have others. When I released a children’s book I wrote about my son and it was mercilessly attacked by Amazon readers, I felt punched in the gut.

One woman wrote that she taught analysis of children’s books for a living and that made reading Bennie the Brute painful.1 Now, pain sucks but I have to say, her profession reminded me a bit of the joke in Airplane about the “magazine” on famous Jewish sports legends that was only a leaflet. While I have no idea who takes a class in the analysis of children’s books, my guess is that it’s not the masses.

So I say keep putting yourself out there and ignore the basement dwellers who want you to suffer for your courage. The more you ignore them, the more powerful you become.