Okay, writing peeps. Here’s a topic that
affects us all. Money. It’s obvious by the way we’re scrambling for the
sweetened, $50,000 pot that Amazon is awarding in this year’s annual
breakthrough novel contest. Drip. Drip. Hear that? That’s the sound of 10,000
writers drooling simultaneously. Nothing to be ashamed of, folks. The green
stuff comes in handy. Wifi’s gotta work. Kids've gotta eat. My question is once we make it—get the contract or take the plunge of self-publishing, rake in
the dough, garner good reviews, attract the readers—what if someone balks at paying
for the product?
I follow a catchy blog called The Red Pen
of Doom which, this week, featured a guest blogger who reviewed a romance novel
by Kat Martin (Deep Blue). I’ve never read any of this writer’s work and probably never
will now, thanks to a review that concluded with a demand for money back. Plus
tax. (Does a reviewer even have to pay for the book?)
Okay, so maybe the demand was simply to
prove a point, but it got me wondering what you guys think of this trend.
Should booksellers refund money to readers who are dissatisfied with a book? How
can one be sure that such things don’t stem from an ideological difference
between the author and reader? I worked in retail. I totally get the mentality
that the customer is always right—and in cases of bad editing, sub-par quality
of download, other technical issues, I’m on the side of the consumer. But what’s
to stop people from reading books and saying
they’re dissatisfied just to get it free? We’re on the honor code here—and need
I point out that society is getting less and less honorable as we speak?
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| By all means, let's throw her another bone. |
For example, I could buy 50 Shades of
Grey, even though I find both the subject matter and the syntax repulsive. I
could read it in order to see what all the hype’s about and then demand a
refund, which if granted will have allowed me to read the book without
contributing to the author’s dubious success. Will I do that? No. I only buy
books I have an actual interest in reading, and very rarely spend money on even
these. (For those of you tempted to sneeze the word “cheapskate” into your
palms: Yep, that’s me.) I’m a huge proponent of the public library.
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| Not to mention, deep. |
The last
two books I purchased were Holly Schindler’s A Blue So Dark and Sarah Darer Littman's Wanna Go Private. I absolutely loved A Blue So Dark, and hated Wanna
Go Private, which I reviewed on Goodreads, although briefly. I only ordered
the latter book because it dealt with Internet safety and I am in the process
of revising a middle-grade mystery set against the backdrop of social networking.
I wanted to see how another author handled themes of cyber- safety, and, as far
as I was concerned, this mission was accomplished. In my opinion, Littman handled
this topic badly, with cardboard characters from the 50s that seemed transplanted
into this decade and exposed to porn. There were many objectionable, downright creepy scenes that were painful to read, as well as a predictable ending. I
chalked that ten bucks up to research, and got on with it.
Even though I was
disappointed with my selection, I recognized the author's triumph in
getting it published, for it was a
publishable book, just not my taste. Now it sits on a shelf of my bedroom, for
I can’t in good faith recommend it to my daughter, even though I think the
subject matter is important, especially for her age group. In the closet of that
same bedroom hangs a pair of leather pants that I bought eight years ago. I wore
them once and then decided I am just not the kind of gal who can get away with
wearing leather pants. Will I be returning to the boutique and asking for my
money back? Not in this lifetime. We make choices, and sometimes they’re…unfortunate. Not everything's like the picture.
Chalk it up to a fleeting insanity, and move on.
I checked out the reviews of Easily Amused, by Karen McQuestion, a
previous ABNA participant now in print, and was surprised to see that she’d popped
in with a personal response to a one-star review. McQuestion politely suggested
that the reader call Customer Service to get her money back. It might be
brilliant marketing, but it made my stomach queasy. Authors get so little that is
tangible from the sale of the book as it is. Just the pride of attaining a
dream, seeing their name (and oftentimes a pen name) in print, some good
reviews, the admiration of their peers and 20% (if they’re lucky). Dissatisfied readers have the chance to leave a negative review, and that should be enough
recompense. Granting refunds sets a scary precedent, in my opinion. What
say you?
