It’s probably not escaped your notice that there have been a few author blowouts recently about reviews and authors who review and reviewers in general. I’m not going there, I’m just not, although I’m prepared to explain what I do and why. I’m an author, I’m a reader, I review. Deal with it.

But there have also been some discussions about professionalism. Since this is a topic that interests me more than somewhat, here’s my tuppence, and it’s about professionalism with authors and reviewers. And be warned, this is subjective. Sorry. But, as far as I know, there aren’t any industry standards, so you have to do your own thing. These are the rules I try to run my career by, and if you have any more comments, have at it. Love a good discussion, but I will walk away from an Internet spat.

I think authors owe it to their publishers to keep confidential matters just that. It seems to be really important to me, or maybe it’s my position that makes it important. I write for several publishers, not just one, and they are rivals and competitors. But I have never, and I will never, provide a publisher with any information about another that I have discovered because of my privileged position. Not that they’ve ever asked me to, and that’s one indication that you’re dealing with a worthwhile outfit. It used to be called ethical behavior. For all I know, it is still. I will not leak anonymously or otherwise, something I haven’t permission to leak. I won’t tell tales to one publisher about another. I won’t whine about one publisher to another. If you see some information here that I have discovered, you can bet that either it’s a personal opinion, or I’ve asked the publisher’s permission to post. I don’t think I would have lasted too long without that ethical code. But it’s not something you see written down, except on the occasional confidentiality clause. I’m sad that they even have to exist, to be honest, because once you sign that contract you have a privileged relationship with the publisher (not talking in the legal sense, or at least, I don’t think I am).

That’s what author friends are for, and to some extent, that’s what conventions and meetings are for. You can’t trust the Internet to keep your secrets, so sometimes face to face is the only way. I have probably half a dozen author friends I can really, really trust, and I discuss things that are bothering me with them and they discuss their troubles with me. Because you don’t have the luxury of the real life watercooler, and the Internet ones are a bit, well, public. We are a support network, of a kind. But nothing, absolutely nothing, goes further.

Terrible when that trust breaks down. When it does, someone pays, and in the two instances I have inside knowledge of, the results were truly tragic. No, I won’t go into details, but yes, terrible results. I was marginally involved in one of them and it makes me deeply ashamed that I was. I got carried away in a witch hunt, and felt the thrill of righteous indignation, but later, I got to hear the real story and the result. So learn from what I say in this instance, not what I did. Don’t get involved. If you have a valid comment to make, do it and then leave before someone says “Hitler.”

Gossip and rumor online? Enjoy it, but don’t take it seriously unless you have positive proof. Like a murmur of “crows” at one end of a room turns into “murder” at the end, and two and two equals three million. The one that comes to mind, and that I’ve mentioned before, was the demise of Triskelion. The company ran out of money. The other rumors were nothing, but there were some damaging leaks which didn’t help anyone, but they did precipitate the company into bankruptcy, which was a bit of a shame for the 50 plus authors involved. The owners walked away, and so did the commenters.  We were left with the mess, so you might say that the wrong people suffered for that one. It’s over now, and I just regard it as a lesson learned. Life’s too short for grudges.

We all know that sometimes someone will say something controversial for a bit of publicity. It happens everywhere. My history tutor at university told us, “If you have a good book, a well thought out theory and a solid thesis, wait. Find something really controversial, something a lot of people will disagree with, but something you can defend. Write and publish that. Give them two dignified responses and then let them argue. Then put out the book you really wanted to publish. They’ll be watching you.” Sometimes it’s just for the blog hits, especially when it’s an author or blogger you’ve barely heard of before. It works, it always has. Kim Kardashian and Katie Price have made great careers out of doing that. Not looking? Flash your crotch, that will do it. Have an argument in public, get drunk, punch a paparazzi. You thought that was all spontaneous, that they really felt that way, that they’re embarrassed when the youtube clip of them crotch-flashing gets its millionth hit? Really?

The reviewing bit? No, I don’t intend to reply or comment to the inflammatory views I’ve been reading hither and yon. I’m privileged to have people who want to read my reviews, but I always try to make it clear that it’s just my opinion. Just one reader sharing her views. You don’t have to write to be able to do it, and sometimes, I think it’s an advantage not to. But I do, so I try to give a writer’s viewpoint. It’s always about that particular book. I have writers who are on the edge – sometimes their books really, really rock my boat, and sometimes they just annoy me, but if I only commented on the ones I loved, it’s like showing only one side. And I don’t do it for writers. If a writer reads one of my reviews and likes it, maybe wants to use a quote, that’s great, fantastic, in fact. But I do it for the reader, not the author. I’m sharing with other readers my experience reading.

I don’t review books from publishers or lines I’m also with, because that’s a bit close to home, and because I value friendship higher. Plus, I might be privy to some information that might color my opinion, such as the author’s state of health, or the way a publisher edits. I don’t usually review books from friends, but if I do, it will be a book I’m bursting with love for, and I will, I promise, state my connection up front.

Sometimes I’ve met authors because of my reviews, and we’ve become friends. And that’s even when I’ve given a negative review. I like to think it’s because they’re as professional as I try to be. The ones who take it all personally—my best advice is to close down the Internet for a few days, and walk away. Publishers who take any notice of reviews? Are you kidding? All a big publisher these days is interested in is the bottom line. It’s a hard world out there. If you’re a train-wreck personality who manages to produce halfway decent books at regular intervals, they will be falling over themselves to get to you. If you’re a regular, nice person who produces great books, they’ll have you too. But a review is another mention online, and one of the first things you learn in marketing 101 is that it’s the mentions that count first, not what was actually said.

I learned early in my career. My first published book was “Yorkshire.” I had some great reviews for it, then someone ripped it to shreds. My then publisher advised me to ignore it, because responding would feed it, and increase the hit rate. I took the advice, and the review died a death. It’s not there anymore, and to be honest, I can’t remember where it was. The review was deeply unfair, and I honestly believe that the writer hadn’t read all the book. She (or he) certainly hadn’t read a first person book before, because that aspect gobsmacked her (or him). So I consoled myself that I was in good company, but that review hurt, it really did. I had other not so good reviews later, but they didn’t hurt so much, because those reviewers had read the book and decided it wasn’t for them. Fair enough. I’d start to worry if I wrote a book that everybody loved. Bland R Us. Yes, it hurts because we want everybody to love our babies, but as the mother of a biter, I know that not everybody loves the offspring, literary or otherwise.

Anyway, after that appalling review, my sales went up.

But if everybody did that, we’d have to rely on the real nutters for our amusement. So maybe I shouldn’t say it. Because it’s all grist to the writing mill, and let’s face it, it means we can put off working for another day or two.