MOUNTAIN MAGIC with Ann Hite

My new book, “I Am A Georgia Girl,” was released on September 2 to a flurry of interest. The first book launch–yes, I had two–was to a sold-out crowd in a late 1800s courtroom; surreal considering part of the book is about a murder trial in 1913 Atlanta. Since the release of the book, I had sold out crowds that have made my head spin, two newspaper articles written in a positive light, been nominated for a national prize, and people I don't know have come to introduce themselves to me. My granny would call this tooting my own horn, and this makes me feel more than uncomfortable. A good Appalachian woman does not toot her own horn; instead, she remains in the background not expecting anyone to notice her accomplishments. But I'm telling my dear readers these accomplishments for a good reason. 

I am assuming most of the readers of this column are writers, but if, dear reader, you are not, then just think of tooting your own horn for your own jobs well done. I don't think anyone would disagree that September was very good to me and my new nonfiction book, my first nonfiction book, a new experience for me. So, I should be flying higher than a kite swept up by a strong wind into a crystal blue fall sky here in Georgia. That was the case for me yesterday, until–there is always an until–I looked at I Am A Georgia Girl on Amazon. Ok, I confess that I look at the sales rank often when a new book comes out, especially my first nonfiction book. That's where I saw it. What? I saw my first rating right there under the book cover. A five star? Or a four star?   No sir and ma'am, there were only two stars, meaning that someone hated my book. These stars were not accompanied by a review stating why this book offended the reader so bad. Not that would have spared my feelings one bit. 

Now I am going to rant here: Readers always write a review when you rate the book because the authors would love to know why you loved or hated their books. Let me remind you, out of all the great things happening for I Am A Georgia Girl, I chose to focus on these two little stars winking at me from my iPad screen. There was no account tied to the offending rating, so I jumped over on Goodreads to see the book's rating there. Four reviews all five stars and one two star. Two stars! Again. Or was it the same reader? On Goodreads you must have an account and you can't hide who you are when you rate it. So I had a name but still no idea if this person was the one who rated me on Amazon. I'd like to think he or she was.

I have to digress here to point out the madness of my thought process. Could I not appreciate what had been unfolding? Didn't I understand that my book is about a controversial trial that still splits people today? My mind did process the information, but that writer who worries over every word she writes didn't.  But this is how most writers' brains are wired. We don't see the good things for the single two-star rating. We are our own worst enemy. Why is that? Why do we assume that one or two bad ratings make our books unworthy, makes the negative opinions correct? We give our fellow writers encouragement by telling them that worrying over ratings is silly.  Yet, we can't do that for ourselves. 

What was the mountain magic in this situation? Did I finally understand that my work was worthy of praise, that I could believe in my abilities?  I obviously have some understanding because I am writing this column that processes my actions are not a good example of my work's worth. But what did help me to have this revelation was the magic of two more reviews that appeared today, five-star ratings with written reviews. Maybe it was mountain magic, maybe my work is good.  Either way I got way too caught up in this madness of whether I am liked or hated as if I was in high school all over again. 

Try your best to believe in yourself, dear readers. You are so much more than a two-star rating.