I hated it - but I'm glad I read it

What reading a 'bad' book taught me

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How a ‘bad’ book taught me how to write

I’ve just finished a book that has made me furious. I didn’t enjoy it at all, but I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m filled with a ‘how did this get made?’ feeling. Every so often I watch something or read something that makes me feel exactly like Will Ferrell in Zoolander screaming ‘I feel like I’m taking crazy pills!’ Am I so very out of step with what everyone else enjoys? Is my taste bad? Am I weird?

This poor book, which I won’t name, came to me early. I get asked to read and provide blurbs for about 15-20 books a week, and I need to say no thank you to most of them. When I say yes, it’s because I’m already confident that I’m going to feel positively about the book. It’s very rare that I review books formally. Publicly, I choose to exclusively speak about the books I’ve loved. A) There’s literally a zillion* books out there to choose from; life is too short to do anything else. B) I’m an author, I’ve had bad reviews in broadsheets and bad reviews from Instagram users. Both break my heart, destroy my equilibrium and leave me unable to write for at least a day. I choose to avoid reviews as much as possible for this reason. The more I write and the older I get, the less recovery time I need. But I don’t believe my opinions are more important than anyone else’s feelings. And I’m in at least ten lively author Whatsapp groups – I have plenty of private outlets for my thoughts.

But this ‘bad’ book was inspiring. I itched to edit it. It’s not my place to do so, but I’d love to speak to the author and make some suggestions. And it reaffirmed my faith in my ‘weird’ taste. It made me realise how much I’ve discovered from trying to read as widely as possible, and how much I’ve learned about storytelling, as an author, tutor and mentor. I’m going to keep taking my crazy pills – and bring these lessons to my work.