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Check below for book updates, upcoming releases, sales on my books, and my current WIPs. Thanks for stopping by!

H.N. Sieverding

Upcoming Book Release Dates

None scheduled

Book Promotions

Beginnings (the Nightwalkers’ Prequel) is $.99 on Amazon

Book Updates

The Gateway, Check Mate, and Secret Scarlet are unavailable due to book updates. They should be back up soon!

Current Projects

Editing Vulcan’s Nightmare, Apocalypse, Christian’s Shadow, House of Lies series.

WIPs

Writing Astoria Foxes, Plague Star, Christian’s Dreamer.

Contact H.N.

Goals for 2021

I’m a little late with this, but hey, at least I got here before February, right? It’s snowmageddon where I live, and it seemed like a good time to write my goals for 2021 post while my boys are outside playing (and tossing snow into my shoveled driveway when they leave and enter the yard. *cringe*)

I could rattle off vanilla goals as I do on these kinds of posts every year, but I won’t. This year, my primary goal is to be less harsh on myself. Whether it’s doubting my talent as a writer or being down about not meeting writing goals. I have many writer friends who feel the same way, so they should make this a goal, as well.

My First Royalty check and my first published book with SCP. It’s now split between Christian’s Mate and Christian’s Secret.

If I asked my twenty years younger self what success as an author would be to her, she’d aim for a goal beneath what I’ve done. Back then, I was working on my first novels and had dreams of being a published author. Hell, I would’ve just been happy to have one book in print.

And you know what? She’d be so proud of me. I’ve come far. I’ve done incredible things and can call myself a bestselling author. That’s pretty awesome. I need to remind myself of that more often.

So, there’s my first goal. Be less harsh on me and rewrite my impossible goals to more achievable ones.

My second goal is to join a writing community (yeah, I said this last year, too) and make new writer friends. I tried a few local and internet writing groups over the years, and I got nothing out of it. I found an online group that seems promising and said I’d stick with it for a year. Clap for me. I did a good.

Lastly, writing goals. My big goal is to get a few of my “almost done projects” out this year, like CK Shadow, Apocalypse (Apollo’s Mission #1), Astoria Foxes (Firebird #2)Prince (House of Lies #1), and Vulcan’s Nightmare. My minimum goal is to get at least one book out. I wanted that to be Astoria Foxes, but it’s not finished yet.

I also want to post more this year, do more author interviews, and run sales on my books. Maybe offer merch again. That was fun, right? Who’s up for T-shirts?

So, there’s my cheesy goal post for 2021. Focus on the positive and remember to reflect on your successes, not obsess over your mistakes.

– H.N. Sieverding

White Cotton: A Short Story by Rich Voza

I posted this short story written by a fellow author, Rich, almost ten years ago. I always liked it, so I want to share it again. Rich is one of the most talented writers I’ve ever met. I hope we see more stories from him soon! Keep writing, Rich!

H.N. Sieverding

White Cotton: A Short Story by Rich Voza

Check out Rich’s writing/books and get some great editing advice at –> brainsnorts.com

“Don’t get attached.”

“It’s just sex.”

“Don’t take anything personally.”

“You’re an actor, pretending to be someone else.”

“Think of it as working out at the gym or cheerleading practice.”

There were other things Jess had told Marti a year ago about becoming an escort.  Grades in college were not as good as they should have been, and there was no time to work even if a part-time job was available.  Luckily, college towns have a lot of college money, and they’re willing to pay for college students.

“It’ll be fine.  They’re all tested, and they’re all traceable if something happens.  They won’t hurt you, but trust me that you’ll hurt them.  You’ll break their hearts because they’re going to want you.  They’re going to tell you that they’ll dump their wives for you.  Trust me, it never happens.  But you want to make them say it anyway, because it means they’ll be back.  And their wallets will open a little further each time.  And so will you.”

When bills were mounting, it was important to simplify.  When they would go out to clubs, Jess was always paying, until the pride was swallowed and the question was asked.  Jess said, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask.  Let’s get out of here, and I’ll tell you all about it.”  Marti had never seen Jess with so big a smile.

“No friggin’ way!”

“Swear to God.”

“How can you do that?”

“I said the same thing, and it was way easier than I thought.  All the work is done for you.  You just show up, there are so many clothes and outfits to choose from.  Ms. Coven, the boss, she’ll buy you whatever you want.  Most of the time they’ll tell you what to wear anyway.  You just might have to grease yourself up a little.  It’s all safe, all protected.  It’s far enough out of town.  You won’t see any of the stupid college guys from around here because they’d never be able to afford you.  You might see their fathers though.   And please keep this in mind.  They only take beautiful people.  If you weren’t pretty enough, I would not have told you all this.”

The rent paid for room 6I at the Ivy Arms was easily covered by the clientele.  Ms. Coven had the only key.  She had the only list of her staff.  She had the only list of the clients.  As far as anyone in the building knew, a nice, older woman lived very quietly and had occasional business partners for daytime meetings.  If something went wrong, she had her explanation solid.  “It’s not prostitution.  This nice couple hired me as a sex therapist.”

It was a small, two-bedroom suite for which Ms. Coven got a reduced rent because of the renovations she paid for, specifically the master bathroom with the double vanity, garden tub, grotto double-sized shower with cushioned benches, and heat lamps.  More time was spent in the bathroom suite than the bedroom but often through choice.  All staff and clients were required to shower both before and after visits or it would be the last time either that client or staff ever set foot in the apartment.  Even so, most clients just could not wait and wanted business to begin with the shower, often ending there as well.

The second bedroom was Ms. Coven’s secure office.  It was simply furnished and mainly served as a place where occasionally Ms. Coven would hide, listen, and watch occasional transactions through hidden camera and microphones.  She was smart enough to leave nothing directly connected to her in the apartment, which was actually rented by a company called “Behavioral Health Associates,” which was nothing more than a post office box on the other side of the country.  She had a degree in social science and had the credentials to claim to be a therapist.

When Ms. Coven met Marti, she was so pleased that she gave Jess double the usual recruiting bonus.  In the envelope with the money was a note that said, “This one is going to break hearts.”  After the first year, a few hearts had been broken, but Marti’s was one of them.

In apartment 6I, everyone had their own armoire with their favorite “gift wrappings.”  That’s what Ms. Coven called their lingerie and accessories such as blindfolds, handcuffs, toys, lotions, etc.  She supplied them with anything they needed, and anything they needed was theirs alone without any sharing.  Safer that way.  Ms. Coven was willing to spend up front because trends had shown that investments in this business eventually more than paid for themselves.

“Yes, Ms. Coven,” Marti said.  “I know.  I’ve had this type before.  I can handle it.”

After a shower and a peek at the clock, the armoire that said “Marti” opened.  “I’ve had this type before,” was said again silently.  But those words were said months ago.  The voice mail that day said he was wealthy but shy, and if all went well, this one would want Marti all to himself, exclusively, and he’d be able to pay the extra easily and regularly.  Memories of him brought Marti to reach for just the right item in the armoire: his white dress shirt.  Marti’s eyes closed while buttoning, then unbuttoning.  Memories of how he unbuttoned it, or tried to the first time.  His fingers unable to coordinate, twice getting them out of sequence, and it was amazingly cute.  Sure, in basic terms, he was paying money to fuck Marti.  But other than that, amazingly cute.

Jess had warned her that some girls had gotten too attached, believing they’ll convince guys to dump their wives for them and save them from this job.  Jess had done it once, and it did not end well.  Nor had it ended well for Marti.

Sitting on the bed were memories of one of their more special times.

He had a weekend conference in Florida and flew Marti down, had a car waiting, and they enjoyed the pool and beach when he wasn’t in meetings.  They met in the bar at lunch and pretended to have just met.  They met at a restaurant away from the conference hotel and pretended to have just met.  They met at clubs a cab ride away and pretended to have just met.  Marti didn’t love it but liked it a lot.  Didn’t love or like him but it was somewhere between and changing a little each time they were together.

They spent hours together in Marti’s room each night, hours including the balcony, the elevator, the stairs, the sauna, the parking lot, and near the pool.  It was sad that he always had to return to his room in case one of the other associates was looking for him or his wife called.  Once, as he was dressing again, he pulled his shirt on more easily than the first time when he had fumbled with the buttons.  Marti crept up behind him, reached beneath his arms, and unbuttoned it.

“Hey,” he smiled, “I have to go.”

“But you can leave this with me.”

He turned, smiled, kissed Marti on the forehead, and giggled.  That shirt was slept in that night and many other nights.  The material felt perfect, such soft cotton.  If you put it on a hanger, his shoulders, his pecks, his waist would be obvious.  All perfectly matched him.  It was not easy to give in and wash it, wash the smell of him out of it.

“Custom made,” he said.  “I have a few dozen of them.  Gifts from – someone.”  And he left, and never came back again.  No notes, no explanations, no apologies.  He had left a plane ticket to return home, and a car had already been arranged at both ends.  But Marti wanted to see him in the airport lounge and pretend to have just met.  Acting classes were good at teaching the art of small talk.  Now, Marti just felt small.

On this day, with this new client, no buttons were fastened.  Completely open, the collar pulled wide, breasts exposed.  “I’ve had this type before,” echoed again.  A glass of cocoanut rum over ice slid down easily, which was well into taking effect when there was a knock, and Ms. Coven’s assistant answered, then excused himself after searching the client for anything not permitted in the apartment 6I.  Then he left and locked the door behind him.  The client followed the previously reviewed directions and headed for the shower where there were towels and a stocked liquor cabinet.  Vodka over ice, then a shower, then dressed in something special before returning to the living room that was darker than before.

Marti, with nothing but the white dress shirt and another glass of rum, walked softly in bare feet from the bedroom into the living room where the client stood admiring a soft leather arm chair.  The client saw Marti, smiled, and stood before the leather chair.  Bare feet were chosen because it seemed submissive.  This one liked that.

Marti walked slowly, feigning shyness, but admiring the long legs in black thigh-hi stockings, 4-inch heels, a black leather vest, and a black thong with what seemed like diamonds in the front.

The tall woman smiled down at Marti, extending a hand and taking one back.  She ran her older hands along Marti’s forearm to a bicep until the rolled up sleeve of the white dress shirt stopped her.  The tall woman opened the shirt and put her soft hands around Marti’s waist, pulling closer for a soft kiss.

“It’s just a person,” Marti repeated.  “Enjoy the attention.  Don’t get attached.  She doesn’t love you.  She just wants to borrow you.”  Closing one’s eyes and just enjoying the warmth of a mouth on one’s neck, regardless of the gender, sometimes feels like love.  Marti learned to enjoy being pulled close, this time feeling both the soft leather vest and the softer D cup breasts spilling out.  What Ms. Coven had said about this one?

She was angry.  After years of wondering, she finally stopped asking her husband if he had cheated on her.  There were always questionable things, and his answers were never convincing.  She told her husband that she would never question him again.  She would be the quiet wife and play along, smile at parties, kiss him in public to protect the assets, but she was going to have her own fun.  She was going to find her own “toys.”  She would become someone else’s “toy.”  For a while it was one.  Then two, eventually three, and eventually she realized that something more was needed.  She enjoyed giving up herself to the power of others, but today she was going to be in charge.  She didn’t like herself, and she was in pain.  Today, she was bringing pain to someone else.  She would find ways to let her husband know what she’d done.  Stained clothing was the easiest.  It was her turn, and she was making the most of it.  Her playing hurt him more than his playing had hurt her because she was the mother of his children.  For some reason, to them, it was different.  All those years of spoiling him, giving him everything, and now she was spoiling herself.  Giving herself to whoever she wanted, and taking whoever she wanted.

The “type” put a finger beneath Marti’s chin, lifted, and feasted on the exposed, vulnerable neck.  One hand found Marti’s curly hair.  Her fingers wrapped into the brunette locks, pulling back to show even more neck to feed on.  Marti had trouble remembering that it was just a job.  The woman’s lips and tongue found just the perfect spot behind Marti’s ear.  Knees weakened.  The woman sensed that and guided Marti to kneel, then she stood with her legs apart.  Marti had not felt this good in a long time.  Not since Florida.  Marti had been toughened but was now softening a little.

Again, the woman’s fingers locked in Marti’s hair, and she guided mouth and tongue to her thighs.  Marti reached both hands holding the woman’s ass and pulling her closer, tongue working its way beneath the thong.  Saliva mixed with something that dripped as the woman pushed Marti’s face closer to where it felt good.  More than good.  The tall woman sat in the leather chair, draped her legs over each arm, and pulled Marti closer as her legs grew further apart.  The woman’s hands worked their way to Marti’s neck, massaging tense muscles as they both grew hungrier.  The woman pushed back the collar of Marti’s white dress shirt, exposing soft shoulders that begged to be kissed.

The woman sat up, heels on the floor, and pushed the white dress shirt off Marti’s arms.  Marti reached up and began to pull off the woman’s thong.  Eyes, hunger, and pulse growing, and fumbling hands pulling the thong down for the woman to step out of, but those tall heels remained planted on the floor.  Marti looked up.

The woman, now standing over Marti, had a curious expression.  She looked down at Marti and asked, “Young man, where did you get this shirt?”

Author Interview: S.L. Stacy

Coming soon! Retribution: Reborn Series Book #4!

While going through old posts and cleaning up the site, I realized I didn’t do an “official” author interview with S.L. Stacy here! I interviewed her on a radio show I co-hosted with Tricia Andersen about seven years ago, but that doesn’t count.

S.L’s written a stack of books. I’m proud of how far she’s come since I met her. I think we’ve been friends for about nine years, give or take a year, and I did the cover art for her Reborn Series. I’ve seen her go from working on her first draft of Reborn, to becoming a best-selling author. It’s fun to see your writer friends become big-time authors! I love it!

I’m excited to interview her and let you all meet her. I’ve featured her in a few of my posts, so maybe you know a little about her. And besides being a talented author, Dr. Stacy is a scientist. How cool is that?

If you like my books, I think you’ll like hers. Hop over to Amazon and check them out. Reborn is FREE to download on Amazon, so snag your copy HERE.

H.N. Sieverding


Let’s Meet Author S.L. Stacy!

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Author Bio: S.L. Stacy is the author of the Amazon bestselling Reborn series, including the novels Reborn, Relapse, and Reclaim, and two novellas, Revenge and Rectify. Her stories blend the allure of paranormal romance with the adventure of science fiction, but she prefers more nuanced endings over the straightforward HEA. She loves dark, tragic antiheroes, a la Damon Salvatore (The Vampire Diaries) and Julian (The Forbidden Game). Her favorite authors include L.J. Smith, Karen Marie Moning, J.K. Rowling, Orson Scott Card, Kelly Creagh, Cassandra Clare, and Sarah J. Maas. She is currently hard at work on the next book in the Reborn series (when she isn’t watching Riverdale).


Interview Questions

Reborn Series Box Set (Books 1-3.5) Kindle Edition

What genre do you write and why? I write romantic fantasy and urban fantasy. I used to call it paranormal romance, but fans of that genre have certain expectations about the book formula and ending. Which is absolutely fine! I just don’t always like following those formulas, haha. I write in these genres because I enjoy mixing old myths with our modern world.

What is the best review you’ve ever gotten? This isn’t a specific review, but a few times I’ve had readers tell me they don’t normally read fantasy or paranormal books, but they like mine. I always enjoy hearing that!

What advice would you give a new writer just starting out? My advice is to just write—get that first draft down and don’t worry about how bad it is, lol. Keep writing, get the words down—you can fix it later.

Do you outline your stories? I usually write a basic outline. I often know the beginning, the middle, and how it ends, but not exactly how the characters will get there. And sometimes they surprise me! At the end of the day, though, the characters are in charge, and I’m just along for the ride. Maybe that sounds a bit weird, lol, but it’s true.

Are you working on any new books right now? I am writing the fourth (and final) installment of my Reborn series. It’s tentatively called Retribution. I’m not sure if that will change, but it might!

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S.L. Stacy’s Social Media Links

Facebook

Web site/blog

Twitter: @sstacy06

Amazon Author Page


Excerpt From The Reborn Series

This is an excerpt from my WIP, Retribution (Reborn #4), so it might be a little rough. Most of the time, my main characters—Siobhan and Jasper—are involved in some pretty epic drama, but this is more of a silly moment between them.

S.L. Stacy

“Siobhan?” Jasper raps on the bathroom door, his tone hesitant. “You okay in there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” I tell him, toweling my hair dry. “Be out in a sec.”

“No worries. You’ve just been in there for a while. Thought you drowned or something.”

“Ha, ha.” Lowering the towel, I study myself in the mirror. My hair falls around my face in wet, dark clumps.  Taking my comb, I start to gently pick apart the tangles.

Once the strands fall straight and smooth once again, I feel like I can properly assess the dye job. Yep. While Jasper was sleeping in, I spent the morning dying my blonde hair black.

It’s a drastic change, to say the least. When I bought the box of Onyx hair dye at the pharmacy yesterday, I hadn’t completely thought it through. I’m not sure how much effort I’m willing to put into maintenance once my roots start showing. And I don’t even want to think about what I’m going to have to do to get rid of it if I get sick of it. For now, though, I’m kind of liking it. Sure, with my pale skin I resemble a very washed out vampire, but it’s striking. Dramatic. Dark, like my mood.

I set the comb on the sink and emerge from Jasper’s bathroom.

He’s sitting on the bed, scrolling through something on his phone. “Finally,” he says, glancing up with a smile before his eyes return to the screen. “I’ve had to pee for hours.” I see him stiffen, his head slowly lifting to look at me again in that did-I-just-see-what-I-think-did way. For a few moments, he studies me silently, midnight blue eyes wide.

“Your hair,” he finally says after a while. “It’s…different.”

Smiling, I run a hand over the still damp strands. “Do you like it?”

“I…yes. Yes, I do.” He rubs his chin, seeming to choose his next words carefully. “I do, but it threw me off guard. I wasn’t expecting you to go into the bathroom a blonde and come out a Morticia Addams.”

I laugh, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. “You know about the Addams family?”

“I’m not as completely pop culture illiterate as you think I am.” Reaching over, he traces the side of my face, tucking a section of hair behind my ear. “I do like it. It’s hot.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Gathering me close to him, he captures my mouth in a gentle but urgent kiss. It pours all the way through me like a shot of espresso, warming me all the way to my toes. Too quickly, he pulls away.

“As much as I want to follow up on that kiss,” he says, getting up from the bed, “I’d better grab a shower while it’s still available. You might go back in and come out with a buzz cut.”

“I wouldn’t get a buzz cut,” I call after him. “I’d just shave it all off. Go full Britney 2007.”

Verona Wolves Cover Reveal and Release Date

wolves banner

I’m excited to introduce Verona Wolves, my September release! Fans of Black Kat begged me for another hockey novel, so here it is!

Verona Wolves is a Sport’s Comedy, so it’s nothing heavy like my horror/romance series like CK and Nightwalkers. Below are the blurb and specs for the book. There’s a sequel, but we’ll throw that one’s name out there after this wolf gets its claws in.


Verona Wolves: Firebird Series Book #1

Verona_Wolves_Coverart

  • Release Date: September 1st, 2020
  • Genre: Sports (hockey), Comedy
  • Word Count: 68 K
  • Book Blurb: When an accident takes the lives of her mother and step-father, Sophie moves to Verona to care for her brother, Christopher. Sophie struggles to connect with him, but can’t find common ground. Obsessed with anything hockey, its Christopher’s greatest passion and will help her get closer to him. She finds an ally in Firebird Callahan, the loud-mouthed center for the Verona Wolves. Not only does Callahan school her on hockey, he gives her the cringe-worthy nickname, Mistletoe.

In the beginning, I referred to this project as “Mistletoe”, and it was supposed to be a novella. I changed the storyline in the spring and rewrote it into a series. The temporary title didn’t fit, so I went with Callahan’s team name, the Verona Wolves. FYI: Mistletoe is the nickname Callahan gives Sophie after she falls for his mistletoe prank. The other Wolves call her that, though they shorten it to “Missy”.


Excerpt:

“Just so you know,” he gave his answer with a chuckle. “All the city stuff is at the rink across the street.” He pointed to his right. “This is the Wolves arena, so technically, you’re not supposed to be in here. I don’t even know how you got in here without a key.”

-Hunter “Firebird” Callahan

Verona Wolves Ice Arena

When Sophie opened the door to the main arena, she peeked inside. They dimmed the lights, and a Zamboni made runs over the ice.

Massive, the stands held thousands, and they covered the walls with screens and advertisements.

Sighing, she realized this wasn’t the place. This was the arena for the Verona Wolves, a team part of World League Hockey.

Annoyed with herself, she backtracked.

There must be a hallway leading to the public rink. The ramp’s directions led her here and there wasn’t another rink on the street, so it was close.

Frustrated and fretting about not getting to Christopher in time, she trotted through the halls searching for it.

Weighted down, she toted a bag with her tablet and work materials in it, a zip-up hoodie over her arm, and Christopher’s hockey stick. She wore Christopher’s Pup’s T-shirt, but it was tighter than she predicted, and her amble breasts stretched the logo.

The long necklaces and bangles she wore didn’t match her casual shirt, and either did her black jeggings and tall boots.

When she fled the house, she took off her blouse and forced the tee over her tank. It was a splendid idea to cheer him on, but now she wished she didn’t do it. She looked silly.

Her phone sounded off with a text.

Sophie tucked the stick under her arm to read the note from her boss. Distracted, her attention glued to her cell as she typed and walked to her destination. She banged into the wall a few times, and paused near an intersection to complete it.

Sophie tried to finish fast and concentrate on finding Christopher. She didn’t have time for this, and it showed in her stiff jaw and thinned lips.

A man dashed around the corner and knocked into her. The impact slammed her into the concrete wall.

Shrieking when she landed on her brother’s stick, Sophie’s back burned. She gritted her teeth as she hissed, pain running down her spine.

She dropped the stick, and it fell to the floor.

The man startled and ripped off his headphones. He held a phone, and it appeared to be an accident.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.” Apologetic, he spoke with a quick tongue.

He slung a duffle bag over his shoulder and wore a tight black long-sleeved shirt and loose track pants.

“You all right?” He shoved his earphones and cell into his sack.

“What are you composed of? Concrete?” Sophie pressed her lips together, her jaw rigid as she groaned and rubbed her back.

She spoke under her breath in Italian, “Hard as rock.”

As she readjusted the strap on her bag over her shoulder, she checked the floor for the stick.

“Shit, I’m told.” He smoothed his wet reddish-blond hair as he sought to make a joke.

When she went for the stick, he swept it up before she did.

“Must be coprolite, because it really hurt,” she replied in a whiney tone as she ripped the hockey stick from him with a swift hand.

“Corpro what?” Still in a stupor, he gawked at her with a vacant expression.

Ask An Author: What is your most effective social media platform?

Today, I’ve asked my panel of published authors the question, “What is your most effective social media platform?”

“WordPress is most effective for people to read samples of your work and get a real idea of what you write, why you write, and how you write. Twitter is most effective for getting quick attention and saying, “Hi. I have a book. Would you please read it? Thanks!”

Decker Schutt

“Facebook, with WordPress as a close second.”

S.L. Stacy

“WordPress. FB would be my second choice.”

H.N. Sieverding

“Facebook because I cheat. When I post on Facebook it also posts on Twitter. I kill two birds with one stone.”

Tricia Andersen

“I’ve found Facebook, don’t over post there otherwise you will drive perspective readers away, and Twitter to be the best. Also doing radio interviews and blogs.”

Lindsay Downs

“(facebook, twitter, wordpress, etc) Facebook, for allowing communication with readers and friends of course, although WordPress is a great tool for allowing you to improve your writing craft and connect with other writers who in some cases also become wonderfully dear friends.”

Paula Acton

Meet the Authors

If you’re an author and want to participate, too, feel free to leave your answer in the comment section. We’d love to hear it!

Ask An Author: How do you deal with bad reviews?

 

This is the first of my “Ask An Author” posts.  Today, I’ve asked my panel of published authors the question, “How do you deal with bad reviews?”. If you’re an author and want to participate, too, feel free to leave your answer in the comment section. We’d love to hear it!

 

“Shrug my shoulders and continue to be a better writer. A review, even from a professional reviewer is an opinion. Everyone is entitled to theirs even if it disagrees with yours and other reviews.”

– Lindsay Downs


“I’ve come to realize the only way to deal with bad reviews is not to read them. (Something else that’s easier said than done). If that doesn’t work: ice cream or chocolate.”

– S.L. Stacy


“First, evaluate if the reviewer has a point.  We’ve all read things we didn’t like.  If that can be true for us, then it can be true for others who read what we’ve written.  Learn from bad reviews, provided you have fairly evaluated if they are correct or at least logical.  Also, keep in mind that in order for someone to give you a bad review, they must have read your work.  That’s a positive.  And don’t be afraid to reach out to that person and thank them for reading and reading carefully.  Invite them to share any further reviews, positive or negative, with you personally.  It’ll make it more likely they’ll read more of what you’ve written.”

– Decker Schutt


“I vent to friends, treat myself (usually a cupcake), then try to learn from it.”

– Tricia Andersen


“I used to read them, but now I’ve found its better just to NOT read them.”

– H.N. Sieverding


“I have been lucky so far in one way by not having bad public reviews, but then again it is hard to actually get any reviews these days without paying lol. I think you have to learn to ignore trolls, do not reply to them but take any constructive criticism on board and learn from it.”

– Paula Acton

 


Meet the Authors