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An Author's Moment of Self-Doubt.  I guess what pushed me over the edge was all the AI bots. They invade my inbox, my direct messages, and now they're invading my Goodreads product pages. Recently, my novel The Golden Princess got a glowing five-star review. The review was well-written—perhaps too well-written. It smelled fishy, and after a little investigation, it was obvious the reviewer account was fake and the review was AI-generated. I fight hard for my reviews, good or bad. If I'm lucky, I might get one a year. Now that AI spammers can muddy up my product pages at will and without repercussion, I ask, "What's the use?" It's like slaving over a hot stove all day, laying out a feast, and no one comes to eat it. And then you have to watch the flies gather and crawl all over the food you worked so hard to cook. That's all I'm attracting now: AI flies. I haven't sold a book in three months. I've been at this since 2011, when I started writing my first novel and first published in 2013. I sell no more books now than I did then. By any measure, I have failed as an author. I'm not saying this looking for pity or to feel sorry for myself. As a pilot, I deal in cold facts and realistic assessments of challenging situations. This is just reality. It's the situation. It's been 16 years since I started writing, and the time has come to reassess and ask myself some difficult questions. <deep breath> So here I go... Why did I get into writing? I had a story in my head that I wanted to get onto paper and share with others in the hopes they would read it and enjoy it. That's it. I have no delusions of literary grandeur. What do I want to write? I want to write my books. I don't want to write for the market, chase trends, or get published just for some damn ego trip. My books are The Chronicles of Fu Xi. It's a unique tale, and one that has no comparable book on the market (but more about this later). What do I want to get out of all of this? I want to find an audience who might enjoy what I'm writing. It doesn't have to be a big audience, and I don't have to make a lot of money. It would be nice just to find maybe a dozen people each year—out of the several billion English speakers who have access to the internet—who might enjoy my novels. And that's the rub, and this rub leads me to some disheartening conclusions. Again, I must face the age-old question that plagues every author at some point: Am I a bad writer? If the answer is yes, it would explain much. I try to be objective, to be my own worst critic. I've taken online writing courses, attended seminars, joined writing groups, and even paid people to critique and edit my work. If I was truly a bad writer, maybe along the way someone I trusted would have told me this, but they haven't. I had three reviews this year from absolute strangers: two really liked my novels, and one thought they were "meh." Since 2013, my novels have received over 200 ratings, with a four-star average. I've won several writing awards. I've published traditionally, albeit nonfiction. By those metrics, one could reasonably conclude I can have some confidence in my literary ability. For my own sanity, I'm going to set this conclusion aside for now (but I don't think I can ever dismiss it until the day I die).  The second disheartening conclusion is that I'm not reaching the right people. So, what have I done thus far to reach my audience? Everything—or at least everything within reason. Since 2011, I've aggressively marketed my books, including starting a business, paid advertising, online platforms, giveaways, book signings, book fairs, contests, and reviewing other authors' books. I've got a website, two blogs, and multiple social media accounts. I've won several writing awards, too. Yet none of this has had any long-term impact on sales. I've had good reviews, but they really don't seem to have any lasting impact, either. My novels have gained zero traction, created no fandom, and attracted no followers. I think the SETI project is having more luck finding aliens than I am finding an audience. All this online presence has only attracted a swarm of spammers and AI bots. Few living human beings have actually read The Chronicles of Fu Xi. Which leads me to my next conclusion. There are no "right people" for my novels. I might have written books that are so far off the literary beaten path that they appeal only to a small fringe of readers. This brings up the question of "labels," otherwise known as genre and subgenre. Labels are legion in literature, especially indie lit: dark fantasy, YA fantasy, romantasy, world-building, high fantasy, low fantasy, sword and sorcery fantasy...I could go on forever. Labels come with built-in fandoms. Herds of indie authors crowd around labels in social media circles. With labels come tribes. In my online writing groups, I see other authors cluster together around these labels like campfires, exchanging ideas, fan bases, and talking about their favorite books and authors in their tribe. What labels are attached to The Chronicles of Fu Xi? The only truly accurate label is "speculative fiction." After that, maybe "epic fantasy," but the label "fantasy" really isn't accurate. Today's fantasy genre is heavily Tolkienesque, with well-established tropes. When you say "fantasy," that's what readers expect. Oh, there are others, like tabletop RPG-based fantasy (which is also Tolkien-based), but they generally gravitate to world-building, magic systems, swords, magic, elves, etc. While that's awesome, it isn't necessarily the reader who might enjoy my novels. When I go to a book fair or join an online writing group, the first thing I look for are books and writers that are similar to myself. I don't find them in fantasy. Strangely, the closest I come to finding them are in literary fiction, due to that genre's character-driven aspects. When fantasy readers review my novels, I get responses like, "I didn't know what to make of this," or "I usually don't read these kinds of books." A publisher once asked me where my novels fit on the shelves. I didn't have a good answer and still don't. When people ask me what my novels are about, I reply, "It's about a man and a demigod desperately trying to save all they love as the world is coming to an end," or "It's The Odyssey meets The Ten Commandments meets Clan of the Cave Bear meets Kung Fu." I walk the aisles of Barnes & Noble or scroll the Amazon best-sellers lists, and conclude that all best-sellers (indie or trad) are firmly in a tribe. Outliers don't sell. Standard labels don't fit my novels—and therefore don't fit (or appeal to) any established tribe. I am tribe-less and will remain tribe-less. Sadly, there is little I can do about this. I didn't chase trends and labels when I wrote The Chronicles of Fu Xi. I chased an idea. Sixteen years after starting the first manuscript, I still can find nothing quite like it—no clear tribe I can call my own. Looking back, if I had understood the literary market and the importance of genre in finding an audience, would I have done anything differently? I'm well established in writing the final installment of The Chronicles of Fu Xi. The check-engine lights are starting to go off regarding my health. I just came off a procedure, and it was a wake-up call. Do I really want to spend another year chained to this laptop, writing and marketing books no one wants to read? It's a legitimate question. Yes, I'm discouraged, and I don't see an easy way through this, but there is a way through this nevertheless. .I've never quit anything in my adult life. I'm not saying I'm quitting now. To hell with the market and labels. If I can't find my tribe, I'll make my own tribe. There is nothing wrong with my novels. They are what they are, and I am what I am. So let's go back to the question of where the hell does The Chronicles of Fu Xi fit on the shelves at your local Barnes & Noble? I'll tell you: all by itself, with its own display, right up by the front door and the coffee shop where everyone can see it. It doesn't have a comp. It is the comp.  Join My Tribe. I can't chase labels or write for the market. I can't spend hours working on a book that my heart isn't excited to write—or reading. It's not in me. I must accept that my novels may never have broad appeal and finish this series. There is a line in Black Sea Gods that is appropriate to how I feel: The only way home is forward.
It's time to swat the flies away, cover the dishes, and start cooking the next meal. Here's my pitch: Join my tribe. Pull up to the table. Try something different. Take a chance on a well-written, original story that takes you off the beaten path. They are good and nourishing, and you've never tasted anything like them.
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 This past week, my family and I celebrated my middle child's college graduation. He earned a degree in computer science. Naturally, my wife and I are proud, but many other thoughts and emotions swirled through my mind this weekend. As a photographer, I took his graduation photos, of course. My son wanted some of them taken in the computer science building where he had spent so much of his college experience. We walked into the darkened computer lab, its monitors lined up and waiting for next semester's students, and suddenly I was transported back. I had momentarily returned to college in 1989, sweating it out in the chilly mainframe computer lab at midnight, desperately trying to get an Assembler or COBOL program to run correctly before a deadline. So, when I walked into that darkened computer lab with my son, a solitary pool of light in front of one monitor drew my eye. I asked my son to sit in that island of light. I wanted to capture the feeling I had all those years ago when I sat in front of a similar monitor—the solitary feeling of task, pressure, deadline, and unyielding requirements that must be completed correctly. Let me explain. None of my children followed in my footsteps into the military, aviation, or picked up the pen or camera to become a writer or photographer. I never asked them to, as they have their own destinies to fulfill, and it’s my job to support them in pursuing their own dreams, not to foist mine onto them. Yet, my middle child and I share a common bond: a degree in computer science. Back in the 1980s, I earned a computer science degree, though the technology was markedly different then. Computer science is much like aviation—it's either right or it's wrong. There are immutable laws of logic that must be followed. The code either runs correctly or it doesn’t. I knew my son had struggled in his degree program, just as I had. When he sat down in front of that monitor, I could see by his expression that he, too, had spent many long, frustrating, and solitary nights in front of a screen, trying to make it all work. I knew my son had experienced the same emotions I had 40 years ago, though his programs were far more complex than mine. I am proud of my son and thankful for this common thread we share. I know his path through life will be markedly different from mine, but I know he’ll be okay. This "common bond" with my son wouldn’t have been possible if my wife and I had not chosen to have him. In my youth, fatherhood was a role I swore I would never shoulder. In my teens and early 20s, life was about me, my career, and my own selfish desires. A good woman came into my life, from a good family, and showed me the value of family. Family, especially children, enables true personal and spiritual growth. Children are the divine privilege God bestows upon the fortunate. Parenthood teaches you there are far more important things in life than yourself. It’s a wonderful, heartbreaking journey. The young man you see in these images was born with a rare cancer. The doctors gave him a 40% chance of survival. As an infant, he underwent chemotherapy, numerous surgeries, and radiation before he was two. He survived. He thrived. God gave him a gentle spirit and an inner strength that is wondrous to behold. During that journey, my second-born taught me many lessons, the most important of which was about The Illusion Exotic. The Illusion Exotic is the illusion that we, as mere mortals, are in control of anything. We think we are in control, but we are not. It’s a dream many never wake up from. Our only true power is how we react to life’s unexpected turns. We are not in control. All that matters is the moment and who we love and cherish in that moment. That’s it. It’s this lesson that children are uniquely equipped to teach their parents. That’s the secret of life, in case you’re interested. I bet you didn’t expect to discover the secret of life reading this little blog this morning, did you? My children, including this young man, are my greatest accomplishment. My only regret in life is that I didn’t have more children. I asked my wife to turn on the lights in the computer lab, and I took one more photo. Sometimes one’s heart cannot contain the blessings the Lord chooses to pour into it. It’s a beautiful heartbreak.  “We are losing the ability to recognise, let alone resist, the corporate control of time, space, bodies, and minds.” = Henry Giroux, author of The Mouse that Roared: Disney and the End of Innocence (1999) Cult /kəlt/: 1) A system of religious veneration and devotion directed toward a particular figure or object. 2) Misplaced or excessive admiration for a particular person or thing.  In 1991, my new bride asked me to stop riding motorcycles, at least until our children were grown and independent. I sold my Suzuki, content to get my adrenaline fixes from my career as an Air Force helicopter pilot. Goodbye motorcycles, hello kids. In the years that followed, we took those kids to Disney World—a lot. During those trips, I learned about Disney, its devoted fans, and its corporate culture. Little did I realize that my family and I were slowly being drawn into the Disney universe.
Hold that thought, because I’m going to digress back to motorcycles. Fast forward to 2022. Our kids were mostly grown and gone, and I gently reminded my wife of her promise from 30 years earlier. As we say in the South, “Bless her heart,” she reluctantly agreed to my buying a motorcycle. I bought a Harley-Davidson, and off I went. Little did I realize that I was slowly being drawn into the Harley universe. Now, in 2025, I’ve become deeply familiar with two corporate cultures: Disney and Harley-Davidson. Beneath the leather vests and Mickey Mouse ears, Harley-Davidson groupies and Disney Adults are essentially the same. Both are American icons with deeply loyal customers. Yet both institutions have seen better days and may even be in serious trouble. Disney and Harley-Davidson are iconic American brands, so woven into the American experience that they’ve become synonymous with America itself. They represent significant aspects of American culture: our fascination with childhood innocence and youthful rebellion. Disney and Harley-Davidson evoke youthful experiences. Disney is synonymous with childhood innocence, while Harley-Davidson embodies teenage and early-20s rebellion. These uniquely American archetypes were formed in the 1950s, when Baby Boomers were growing up and modern American culture coalesced after World War II. Perhaps no song better represents Boomer childhood than “When You Wish Upon a Star” from Disney’s 1940 Pinocchio. No image better captures Boomer rebellion than Marlon Brando in The Wild One. Innocence and rebellion—these are what they’re selling. But to whom? Disney and Harley are selling to people with money, and those aren’t kids or teenagers. They’re not even parents with young children. They’re selling to childless adults and, increasingly, older people. Both brands peddle idealized images of childhood and youth, but their primary audience is adults. The “Disney Adult” is a grown-up zealot for all things Disney, often stereotyped as a childless millennial lacking self- or social awareness. The stereotypical Harley rider is a well-off Boomer or Gen-Xer who attends motorcycle rallies and owns a “bagger” motorcycle more expensive than most cars. Both brands are expensive and increasingly resemble luxury brands. Harley-Davidson motorcycles are costly. A new entry-level bike in 2025 costs well over $10,000, making them nearly unaffordable for young people. A top-end bagger can exceed $50,000—the price of a new car. When you buy a Harley, you’re paying for a premium “badge,” putting the brand out of reach for teens and twenty-somethings. Reports place the average Harley rider in their late 40s or early 50s. The brand has shifted from “rebel without a cause” to “rebel with a fat checking account.” Similarly, the Disney theme park experience has become a luxury, out of reach for many young families. Tickets, parking, food, and countless “add-ons” and “upgrades” can make a Disney park trip cost over $10,000. Even seeing a Disney movie in theaters can cost hundreds for a family, not to mention streaming service fees. These brands no longer cater to families with children or rebellious young men wanting to “break away.” They cater to the illusions of successful adults and retirees trying to recapture their youth. And illusions love to play dress-up. Both Disney and Harley rely heavily on costumes and merchandise. At a Disney park, it’s not just little girls dressing as princesses—30-year-olds are doing it too. From Mickey Mouse ears to princess gowns for cosplaying any Disney character, the brand’s reach is clear. Similarly, the leather jacket and vest, synonymous with outlaw motorcycle culture, are staples of Harley-Davidson. It’s often said that Harley is an apparel company that happens to sell motorcycles. In both cases, brand acolytes are identifiable by what they wear. Clothing and costumes are outward symbols of subordinating individuality to brand conformity. Both Disney and Harley market extreme conformity branded as individuality: “Look at me, I’m a rebel just like you,” or “Look at me, I refuse to grow up just like you.” We all want to belong—that’s normal. But this fandom invokes an almost religious zeal for brand identity, not necessarily for a quality product or service. For example, I’ve owned two Harley-Davidson motorcycles. I recently traded my three-year-old Harley for a new Honda. Why? I grew tired of the mechanical and electrical malfunctions that plagued the bike. The quality didn’t match the premium price tag. Harley markets its heritage, but Honda markets quality and reliability. Give me quality any day. As for Disney, they seem to rely on poor-quality live-action remakes and cannibalizing intellectual properties they’ve purchased, like Marvel and Star Wars, rather than creating original content. They produce content now, not quality entertainment. Extreme market conformity can backfire. When content creation trumps artistic creation, corporate cultures prioritize “fan service” over originality and innovation. Harley is tied to its “heritage” marketing, producing the same stale bikes for the same demographic year after year. Any deviation from this formula in bike design is often met with outrage from Harley’s core customers, encapsulated in the phrase, “That’s not a REAL Harley!” Disney has gone further, trapped in a cycle of making live-action remakes of its animated classics. The result: both brands suffer from stale product lines. Their customer base erodes, leaving only deep-core brand loyalists who demand adherence to tradition while simultaneously bemoaning the lack of originality. I see this brand slavishness in other companies too, like Jeep and Yeti coolers. These are products from corporations concerned primarily with the bottom line and shareholder returns. Loyalty to customers is an illusion, in my opinion. I’m not talking about people who prefer a brand for quality or value—that’s rational behavior. There are two notable exceptions to this discussion. First, traditional families with small children who rarely visit Disney. They go for their kids, to create cherished memories, and enjoy both classic Disney properties, like the movies, and newer ones, like Pixar. Second, the 1% biker gangs—the true outlaw bikers. Their loyalty is to the gang or the “brotherhood,” not the brand. In both cases, the brand is a means to an end. For example, a family with small children may vacation at a non-Disney park for economic reasons and still feel satisfied. Many (though not all) outlaw biker gangs allow members to ride non-Harley motorcycles. Beneath the leather vests and Mickey Mouse ears, the Harley-Davidson groupie and the Disney Adult are the same. Extreme brand loyalty is a form of insanity. Brand cults are real and are cults in every sense of the word. This is a story of pathological codependency between slavishly loyal customers and the corporations that prey on them. In the end, it hurts both the customer and the corporation.  "Woman on Mountain 1" Copyright 2025 Brian Braden Photography As a writer and a book reviewer, I’ve made some observations and learned a few lessons over the past few years about the state of mind of many emerging authors. If you care to listen, I’ll share a few. Take them for what they are, the opinions of an author who has published independently and traditionally. First, I think many new authors fail to take an honest account of their motivations before jumping into writing. Motivations are legion, but every writer wants their work published. It may not be the only motivation, but it’s likely the most important. I call this powerful motivation the Writer’s Drive. However, when a writer doesn’t have other goals besides publication, such as improving the quality of their work, the Writer’s Drive can become overpowering. A relentless, obsessive, and often frustrating quest for publication can cloud judgment and seriously interfere with their craft. To put it another way, too much Writer’s Drive is a bad thing. Writer’s Drive often leads to Writer’s Desperation, the overpowering desire for feedback and validation. Desperation leads to anxiety and impatience. It often comprises a writer’s work as they rush it to publication before its ready. Alas, desperation often leads to fear. Writers often fear criticism because writing is an intensely personal experience. To some degree or another, writers must lower their shields and open themselves up to the judgment of strangers, resulting in varying degrees of apprehension, or what I call Writer’s Fear. Like any other human endeavor, most people who try their hand at writing fail. After the sixth grade most ballerinas and baseball players give up and become other things. Sadly, it takes more time for writers to get a clue. Unlike sports, writers can insulate themselves from scrutiny and, to avoid hurt feelings, friends and relatives sometimes aren’t entirely honest. When writers finally hit a wall of honest, often brutal, feedback, they have three choices: quit, learn and adapt, or lie to themselves. Which brings me to my last observation: writers can be self-delusional. There isn’t a writer out there who hasn’t suffered Writer’s Delusion. We’ve often ignored a golden nugget of advice that a manuscript might need major work. People naturally hear what they want to hear, not what they need to hear. It reminds me of the movie Dumb and Dumber when the Lauren Holly tells Jim Carey he only has a one-in-a-million chance of ever going out with her. He smiles and says, “So you’re telling me I have a chance!” Yep, that’s us writers. There you have it - A strong, unchecked drive to publish often leads to desperation, fear, and self-delusion. In other words, it leads to a very frustrated writer. So I come back to the point about motivations. As a writer, if you’re honest about your motivations you can often find other reasons than publication. Getting published is a natural, long-term goal, but there is more to writing than seeing your book in print. Improving your craft, for example, is an important and attainable near-term goal. Bottom line, you need something to keep you motivated on the long road to publication that doesn’t stress you out, keeps you writing and moving forward. Find reasons that are uplifting, relaxing, and positive. This will give you patience and peace of mind. It also beats the hell out of fear, desperation and delusion. In time, one way or another, the publication thing will take care of itself.  Originally published 26 October 2012 in Underground Book Reviews. It has been updated for this blog.
Success by Association: Eight Questions Authors Should Ask Themselves Regarding Collective Marketing3/3/2025  Marketing- that word often sends indie authors diving for cover faster than a tornado siren. You poured your heart into your novel, its edited, beta-read, and edited again. You’re ready to publish, but you have no idea how to get the word out. The blogosphere is abuzz with advice columns on how to market your novel. Consultants bombard your inbox and Twitter account with spam promising they can deliver hordes of readers. This humble columnist’s own experience with marketing has been hit or miss, but I’ve learned there are three resources critical in marketing a novel: Time, money and friends. As for money and time, I don’t have a lot of either (yet), so I’ll save those topics for future columns. Today, let’s stick to the subject of friends. Writers need friends, most notably other writers, like Oreos need milk (creamy whole milk, not that healthy 1% crap). Collective marketing is when authors team up to advertise their books, and is perhaps one of the most effective strategies one can pursue. A writers’ collective is not a communist literary colony, it is when two or more indie authors join forces on a common platform for the purpose of expanding their readership. Platforms vary dramatically. They can be indie publishing groups, book blogs, writing circles, or simply a common Facebook page. Each author brings their own social network, skills, and talents to the group. The objective is success by association; to integrate, leverage and grow your social network, and hence, your readership. Success via collective marketing doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a cumulative, long-term process. The key is to start early, even before you’ve finished your novel. Before you step down the collective marketing lane, there are eight questions you should ask to avoid common mistakes (or at least the ones I’ve made). Question One: What do you bring to a collective marketing organization? Take a personal inventory, including your social media and platforms. Begin building your platforms well before your first novel is completed, even if you don’t plan on joining a marketing collective. Lay the groundwork via a website, Facebook, Twitter, Google+, Goodreads, Pinterest and whatever social media you think might help. Get an online presence before your novel is finished. To use a cliché, prime the pump. Research should be a key part of your personal inventory. Accomplish your marketing homework as you write. Once the novel is complete, you’ll be eager to publish. That isn’t the time to start researching these elements. Once you’ve built the platform framework, consider adding these elements to your network: 1) Reader forums in your genre (duh). 2) Other writers in your genre (they bring readers). 3) Quality, affordable editors. 4) Quality, affordable cover artists with experience in your genre. 5) Potential marketing collectives, of course. A strong personal inventory and market research will make you a valuable asset to any writers’collective. Now that you’ve answered Question One, take a long look at your list of collectives. Even if you found a few you like, there are still seven more questions to answer before jumping in. Question Two: Do all or most of its authors write in your genre? It’s one thing to be in a writing circle with authors outside your genre, but once the novel is finished you must reach YOUR intended audience. Some variety is good, but too much and you’ll dilute marketing effectiveness. Question Three: Is their writing any good? Read some of their stuff before even making contact. A good writers’ collective must have standards and selective membership. If they don’t meet your literary standards, then association may be detrimental. Once you join, your work will be associated with the group, so know what you’re getting into. This leads into the next question. Question Four: Do they have a leader? Writers are cats (except for me, I’m the token dog) and are notoriously difficult to herd. A common platform must have a leader, or it will splinter, lose focus and fail. The leader is also the focal point and filter for quality control. Question Five: Is it a quality platform? The collective may be chalk full of brilliant writers and great books, but if their public presentation sucks, it doesn’t matter. Whatever the platform (websites, blog, Facebook, X, etc.), it must strive for a professional, and appropriate, presentation for its genre(s) and target audience. Once again, be careful, because once you join, you and your work will be associated with the group. Question Six: How aggressively do they market their work? If they aren’t out hawking their wares, you’re wasting your time. Does everyone pull their weight, or are only a few carrying the load for the others? Watch them, Like them on Facebook and Twitter, and keep track of their members. (Not like a stalker, but more like the NSA). If you’re satisfied and it's an equitable arrangement, proceed to Question Seven. Question Seven: Are you and this organization are a good fit? This is a personality test. Exercise caution when inviting someone into your life and around your precious novel. Always remember this is a business arrangement, not a social club. Eccentric, flamboyant, and fun personalities are great in a writers’ collective. Jerks are not. Make sure the people are stable, mature, positive, and will help, not hurt, your marketing efforts. Once again, this goes back to Question Four: a good leader should filter these personalities out. If, at this point, everything looks good and you want to join, ask yourself the next question. Question Eight: Can you commit? Are you ready to step up, pull your weight and push the work of those in your collective? You will have obligations, be ready to fulfill them. Collective marketing leverages a small, emerging web presence by creating dynamic outcomes that can propel a book, and its author, in unexpected directions. But it’s not a magic bullet, and it’s not for everyone. Before you commit to a common platform, do a little research first, and ask yourself these eight simple questions. This article originally appeared in Underground Book Reviews 17 May 2014. I have updated this article slightly due to market and technology changes.  In the first installment of this series about writing effective consumer book reviews, we explored maximizing the five-star rating. Today, we’re taking a closer look at writing the review itself. Let’s start with some general guidelines applicable to all consumer book reviews. I emphasize the word guidelines, because the first rule of a properly structured consumer book review is there is no such thing as a properly structured consumer book review. This isn’t English Composition 101, it’s a product review. However, a poorly written review can be misinterpreted, and possibly reflect poorly on the reviewer. Therefore, here are a few tips and tools regarding writing effective consumer book reviews. First, some important tips interspersed with some example reviews that hit several (not all) of these tips:  Review Example Tip 1: Take writing reviews seriously. Make it worthy of your time and effort, as well as that of your fellow readers. Tip 2: Use a word processor first, and then paste the review into the website’s form. This technique inhibits impulse reviews and gives you latitude to save it and let it “cool” before posting. It also aids in spell checking and proofreading. (Update: AI makes a great spell check, but that's about it. See Bonus Tip below.) Tip 3: Always be respectful, even when being painfully honest. Tip 4: Profanity has a place in literature, but not reviews about literature. It’s a bad idea, and may not make it through the website’s content filter. Tip 5: Never make your review personal, derogatory, mean-spirited or bullying. Tip 6: Be cautious when employing satire (not recommended) and humor (best know what you’re doing before taking this leap). Remember, the written word can easily be misinterpreted by the reader. Tip 7: It’s good to discuss how a book made you feel, but not how you felt when you read the book. In other words, it’s a book review, not a diary. No one wants to know how you felt the day you read it, if you had the flu, or you had just broken up with the love of your life.  Review Example Tip 8: Shorter is better. If your consumer book review runs much longer than the book description/back-cover synopsis, then it’s probably too long. Around 300 words is a good rule of thumb. Tip 9: One way to keep it short is to avoid rehashing the plot unless it’s absolutely critical to your piece. Tip 10: If you rehash the plot, then avoid spoilers. If you delight in blowing the plot for the next reader, there is probably little I can say to change your mind, other than please don’t do it. If, however, you find it absolutely critical to include a spoiler in a consumer book review, please be kind and add “SPOILER ALERT” as the first two words in your review. Tip 11: Never say anything like “I usually don’t read this kind of books, but...” You read it or you didn’t. Your opinion is as good as anyone else’s. Tip 12: Unless a book is mechanically or structurally broken, don’t review a book if you didn’t finish it (see the previous installment for more on this). If you didn’t finish a book just because you didn’t like it, writing a review reflects more on you than the book. Tip 13: Buy the book whenever possible. Seeing “Verified Purchase” above your review bestows instant credibility. Tip 14: If you received the book as a complimentary review copy, then state so upfront. This doesn’t ruin credibility, but in some markets this may be mandatory. (Update: In some places its legally required to disclose if you received a complementary copy.) (Update, Tip 15: artificial intelligence (AI) "summaries" are becoming common for book reviews. Never let an AI write the review for you. Large Language Models (LLM) AIs can only recognize and regurgitate word patterns. A purely AI review is a review written by other people and, essential, plagiarism. Choose your words careful, as your review may be plagiarized by AI and forever get caught in the "Matrix." If you copy and paste the review on multiple website, the AIs statistically be more likely to use it. )  Review Example Now it’s time to look at some review writing tools, starting with the headline and first line of the review. The first sentence and headline (if the website supports headlines, such as Amazon) should directly tie the review’s narrative to its star rating. This is the “walk-away,” the primary point which drove you to give the book a particular rating. In the previous installment, I provided several examples based on a one-to-five star rating. It could be as simple as “I gave this book a three star rating because...,” or “I disliked this novel due to...” Once you have established the framework for your review, write a short paragraph supporting your opinion. Writing a review shouldn’t be painful, so don’t write a dissertation. Simply craft a few well-written sentences expanding on your opening statement. If you can’t think of a way to organize your thoughts, try the “PCCS” Template: Plot, Characters, Climax, and Author’s Style. You don’t have to cover all of them, nor do you have to discuss them in this order. The PCCS template merely gives the reviewer a tool to structure his or her thoughts. Chances are, you already mentioned one of these elements in your opening statement and need only expand on the idea. This template is especially great for middling reviews, were some of a book’s elements get favorable marks, while others don’t. A great way to wrap up a review is with a recommendation. Should the next reader buy it? Maybe it’s not worth the ten bucks you dished out for it, but might be worth three dollars. Do you want to run out and immediately buy the author’s next book? Should the book be banned? You get the idea. Provide the next reader a recommended course of action that is commensurate with your opening statement. How do you know you’ve written a good consumer book review? There is no one metric, but it’s a good sign if people start marking your reviews as helpful.  For writers, getting reviews is part of the job description and, occasionally, an occupational hazard. However, what people often neglect to consider is how a book review reflects on the reader who posts it. A well written review, whether positive or negative, commands attention from both fellow readers and authors. Such reviews reveal intelligent, thoughtful and serious readers. Poorly written reviews are quickly dismissed, the reader often not taken seriously. I’m talking about “front-line”reviews, posted by readers on sites like Amazon or Goodreads, not formal reviews like you’ll find here at Underground Book Reviews. Books presented in magazines like ours are heavily filtered before they are even considered. One and two star-level books don’t make it into the magazine, so the quality scale has been “shifted” right, so to speak. Filtered, formal reviews have their place, but front-line reviews are critically important, too, because: 1) They are often from paying consumers; 2) They represent direct communication between authors and readers; 3) They are raw and unfiltered. A reader's book review is a personal thing. Let me be clear, I'm only offering practical advice to empower your front-line book review. Goodreads and a few blogs offer some very generic guidelines on how to review a book, but otherwise its a free-for-all. This series offers the reader a more detailed toolkit. Doesn’t something this important deserve care and attention? In the next three articles I’ll offer some easy tips and guidelines on writing effective consumer book reviews. Today, I’ll provide some examples of appropriate review statements, but I’ll save the bulk of the suggestions regarding writing good accompanying narratives for part two. In part three we’ll talk about how to sift through other readers’ reviews when trying to make a decision on purchasing a book. In this installment, we’ll dissect the common five-star rating, the most prevalent graphic rating scale. The star scale is the first thing a consumer sees when considering a book. Some authors hate it, many consider it a necessary evil. Readers often find ratings unhelpful for various reasons. It's clearly subjective and often doesn't translate well between genres. Like any numeric assessment scale, its subject to inflation. Five-star reviews litter the literary landscape, and, sadly, many are undeserved. On the other hand, there are plenty of undeserved “OMG, I hate this book!” one-star reviews, too. However, Amazon, Goodreads, Shelfari and many others use variations of this device. While imperfect, the five-star system is here to stay and perhaps the most convenient tool to quickly rate a book. With that said, here are some suggested guidelines when assigning meaningful, more objective star-ratings.  Reserve ONE-STAR ratings for quantifiably flawed books. Mechanically or structurally flawed books are improperly edited and should be avoided by all readers, regardless of taste or opinion. Mechanically flawed novels are littered with typos, structural problems, severe formatting mistakes, syntax errors, and so forth. Structurally flawed books are mechanically sound, but poorly written. They are plagued with weak prose, overused tropes, poorly developed characters, slow pacing, clichés, and so on. Statements to accompany a mechanically flawed book might include, “Needed more editing,” or “Wasn’t ready for publication.” Possible statements for a structurally flawed books might be, “Clunky prose,” or “I couldn’t follow the convoluted plot.” Unfortunately, the single-star could be dubbed the “Indie Star,” because too many self-published novels are poorly edited. In theory, a traditionally published book shouldnever rate one star (but, sadly, that’s not always the case.) A one-star rating is, in my opinion, the only time a reader has a legitimate excuse to not to finish a book and yet, in good conscious, still post a review.
TWO-STARS denote strong dislike for an otherwise properly written book. You hated it, but why? Did the characters not come to life? Did it drag? Did it offend? Was it unoriginal? Did it rip off another novel or idea? Since your dislike is clear, powerful statements should be easy to write, such as, “The ending was a total disappointment,” or “Dragged all the way through,” or “I could not relate to a single character.”
THREE-STAR reviews range from the mildly negative to the weakly positive. It is critical to explain why three-stars earned their rating. A three-star review without a narration is practically worthless and a waste of time; it leaves the consumer scratching their head and moving on. A negative three-star might be accompanied by statements like, “Well written, but the ending felt dissatisfying,” or “Finished it, but dialogue was lacking,” “Readable, but the author brings nothing new to the genre,” or “Others might like this, but it wasn’t my thing.” A positive three star review might have statements like, “Dragged in the middle, but the ending was good,”or “I liked the hero, but the plot wasn’t believable,” or “Okay novel, but almost lost me a few times due to graphic violence.” Bottom line, a three star review always needs a good justification.
FOUR-STARS are the opposite of the two-star rating; a solidly good book. There may be some elements you didn’t like, but the overall experience falls squarely in the positive. Once again, back it up with clear statements as to why. Comments may ring something like, “Started slow, but really came through,” or “Satisfying read, I’ll buy the sequel,” or “Ranks with some of the better novels in the genre,”or “I’ll look for more by the author.”  FIVE STARS should be reserved for truly exceptional books, ones you couldn’t put down and stay with you long after you finish. A five-star goes beyond merely enjoying or strongly approving of a book. It is a hearty recommendation, a resounding endorsement. It stands out among its genre peers. Perhaps you want to read it again. Instead of throwing out some possible five-star statements, it would be easier to link to an Amazon review of a book I think is clearly a five-star – The Watchman, by Matt Langford. We’ve taken something clearly subjective and, hopefully, firmed it up a bit. With a well thought-out star rating acting as both gateway and framework, we’re ready to write a short, quality narrative. Next week we’ll explore how to write reviews that catch other readers’ attention, as well as effectively communicate to authors seeking feedback.  Godiva, a.k.a "Moppit Head". Here's the answer to a question I've never been asked, but secretly wish someone would have asked: What exactly is "the illusion exotic"? Really, no one has ever asked me that. Bummer. I'm going to answer it anyway. The simplest answer is that it's the title of my short story compilation, which is currently available in eBook form on Amazon. More specifically, the compilation's title, "The Illusion Exotic," was taken from a line in my short story "Spaceship Name." There is a line from the story that calls our sense that we truly control our fate an "exotic illusion." The Illusion Exotic is the human delusion that we are truly in control of our destiny. At best, we can influence our destiny, perhaps stack the odds a little bit, but in the end, we are at the mercy of fate, which has a mind of its own. I call it "going sideways." You think you have it all figured out, and then "BAM!" life throws you sideways, and all your best-laid plans are for naught. It's in those sideways moments when the universe teaches us an important lesson: that we humans are merely fragile fleshy water bags riding a hunk of rock hurtling through the galaxy. Why are humans plagued with this exotic illusion? It's sort of a byproduct, a kryptonite, so to say, from our superpowers. As intelligent primates, we only have two superpowers, and neither of them is making or using tools. (BTW, tools are overrated because eventually it results in way too many different types of screwdrivers.) Our first superpower is the ability to make a decision, a choice. With the exception of a woman trying to decide where she wants to eat out, humans are otherwise decision-making machines. The funny thing about that superpower is it can only be wielded in a mystical, magical land called "The Present," sometimes called "The Moment," or, as Sammy Hagar once said, "Right Now." Right Now is the crossroads where the past and future collide. It's where the probability wave function collapses and the cat finally commits to life or death. Before the Moment, our decisions are just ideas, and after that, our decisions become "history." It's in the imaginary lands of history and ideas, far beyond the Right Now, where humans suffer from the Illusion Exotic, and this is entirely the fault of our second superpower. First, let me digress and talk about dogs. Other critters besides humans make choices, but only humans can claim it as a superpower. For example, a dog may say to itself, "Do I bite or lick this hand currently trying to pet me?" or "Do I pee on this new carpet or do I pee on the linoleum?" Animals make choices, but no other animal experiences the Illusion Exotic except us (and maybe white mice and dolphins, but that's another story). That's because dogs, and other critters, only think and act in the Right Now. Humans, on the other hand, seem to get all wrapped up about what comes before and after the Right Now. That's because we've developed the unique skill of being able to store information and pass it from one generation to the next. Dogs and other critters suck at this. This is our second superpower, and why we suffer the Illusion Exotic. This is also why dogs feel sorry for us and have generally agreed among themselves for the past 10,000 years to suffer our indignities (and for treats, of course). You see, dogs and most other animals live in the moment and prefer it that way. Dogs have been patiently trying to explain this to us for at least 10,000 years, but we have failed to get the hint. Don't believe me? Go ask your dog; they will tell you. Here's how: First, call your dog's name. Second, watch them come running. Third, look into your dog's eyes. What will you see there? Nothing but love, and THAT is your dog telling you to live in the Right Now. Your dog isn't thinking about the past and therefore doesn't care that you didn't take her for a walk yesterday or at all in the past two months. Your dog isn't thinking about tomorrow or how to plot her revenge against you for not taking her for enough walks. No, she's simply staring at you Right Now, thinking about how much she loves you no matter how fat you are because you don't walk enough. (BTW, don't try this with your cat, because cats lack souls). I'm going to come back to this point. The ability to make decisions based on knowledge of the past and applying that to forecast the future are human superpowers. Superpowers are cool, and this generally makes us smug and think way too much of ourselves. That's the Illusion Exotic, the mirage of control that often robs us of the precious Right Now. It makes us fret over what we can't change and makes us anxious about a future we truly can't control. The Illusion Exotic makes us blind to those closest to us currently sharing the Right Now. Oh, sure, planning for the future is probably a good idea; just don't count on it and get all bent out of shape when it doesn't transpire the way you think it ought to. Don't live in the future, because it's not real. Life will go sideways like a rollercoaster going off the track, and your plans can crumble in a moment. In those times, all that will be important is who you are sharing the rollercoaster with. Yeah, it's great to learn from the past and occasionally bask in warm memories; just don't live there, or you'll find yourself dancing with ghosts. Which brings me back to that dog staring at you. She's looking at you that way because she loves you Right Now. A dog's love is perfect because it only exists in the moment. Dogs don't care about the past, and they damn well don't care about the future. They care about the Right Now and being with you. They are totally immune to the Illusion Exotic. What I'm really trying to say is maybe we need to be a little bit more like dogs. No, that doesn't mean sniffing butts and chasing squirrels. It means that you should get up Right Now, walk away from your computer or phone, and find that person you love the most and stare at them the same way your dog stares at you, with perfect love in the Right Now. Because life goes sideways. The past is the past, and the future isn't real. All you have is perfect love, and it's only meant for the moment. But don't take my word for it. Take it from Sammy Hagar and Dog Halen.  Dog Halen One step ahead, one step behind me Now you gotta run to get even Make future plans or dream about yesterday, hey C'mon turn, turn this thing around , hey It's your tomorrow (Right now), C'mon, it's everything (Right now), Catch a magic moment, do it Right here and now It means everything  Dr. Beverly Crusher (gates McFadden) in the Star Trek Next Generation episode "Remember Me". A Notable EpisodeI'm an unapologetic Star Trek enthusiast, particularly when it comes to anything crafted before the year 2000. While the original series holds a special place in my heart, it's Star Trek: The Next Generation (STNG) that truly captivates me. Though there might be a future blog post dedicated to this passion, today's narrative doesn't focus solely on Star Trek. Instead, it delves into a specific episode, #79 titled "Remember Me." Airing in October of 1990, this episode is notable not only for its content but also for marking the moment when STNG equaled the original Star Trek in episodes produced. Now, if you're not well-versed in Trek lore, bear with me for a moment. "Remember Me" presents an intriguing scenario wherein the USS Enterprise's medical officer, Dr. Beverly Crusher, becomes ensnared within an alternate universe spawned from an errant engineering experiment. This alternate reality bears an uncanny resemblance to the familiar one, initially masking Beverly's entrapment. The plot thickens as crew members vanish inexplicably, leaving Beverly as the lone observer to this enigma. However, a twist unfolds: the remaining crew retains no memory of those who vanished, except for Dr. Crusher herself. Despite her attempts to communicate this perplexing reality to her closest companions, her efforts fall on puzzled ears. Time progresses, and all but Beverly vanish, leaving the alternate universe to shrink until only the ship's bridge and engineering deck endures. Dr. Crusher faces solitude, anticipating the inevitable moment when she, too, will fade into oblivion. But in a heartening turn, her son Wesley intervenes before the alternate reality collapses entirely, rescuing her from its grasp. For those unacquainted with the Star Trek universe, here's a glimpse back to 1990 via a television commercial capturing the essence of this remarkable episode. This blog post doesn't intend to offer a review of the episode, but it's worth noting that "Remember Me" is beautifully crafted and expertly performed. Interestingly, it's an episode I initially overlooked in my younger years, and it remained dormant in my memory until last week, when my mother no longer recognized me. You see, my mother developed dementia a few years ago. Mom's Shrinking Universe.At first, the signs were subtle, slipping past our family's notice. Her vocabulary gradually dwindled, and she often struggled to unearth the right words to convey her thoughts and emotions. Pronouns replaced names, and her short-term memory faltered, while her recollections of the distant past remained intact. Slowly, the ability to recognize faces faded, eventually giving way to a heartbreaking reality: she couldn't recognize even her own family. Paralleling Dr. Crusher's experience, my mother found herself trapped in a diminishing universe. Mom's reality fluctuates based on "good" and "bad" days, but over time, it consistently contracts. Deep within, she might vaguely sense her shrinking world, yet comprehending and articulating it remain elusive. Loved ones gradually fade from her universe, replaced by unfamiliar faces. The town she's called home for 45 years becomes unrecognizable, despite remaining unchanged. Her universe narrows, leaving only her husband and her home. Fortunately, she still recognizes them—most of the time. She spends her days between her bedroom and the living room, watching the birds at the feeder or gesturing towards her parked car, dreaming of a drive she can no longer manage. Her grasp on my father, her anchor, is unyielding. The gruff man of my childhood memories has transformed into a gentle caretaker, patient and kind. Yet, the shrinking universe encroaches even on this haven. She gazes at strangers' clothes in her own closet, bewildered by who put them there. On occasion, the universe expands slightly, and she might recognize me, if only for a fleeting moment. These instances are like welcome breezes in the midst of a scorching day—refreshing, yet transient. In "Remember Me," Dr. Crusher deploys her intellect and skills to diagnose her predicament, while her son Wesley labors outside the alternate universe to save her. Similarly, my mom navigates her contracting universe, aware that something is amiss but powerless to halt it. Like her, we, her loved ones, stand powerless outside her shrinking reality. In 2023, our capabilities are impressive, but we're still unable to halt, reverse, or cure dementia. Somewhere within my mother's mind, she stands on a personal bridge as her universe collapses around her. A day approaches when her husband and home will vanish from her awareness, and her universe will dissipate entirely. On that day, her voyage through this reality will conclude, though her physical shell may endure for years. The Harsh Teacher.The anger wells up within me—anger directed at God, especially. I love the Lord, but I still get angry at Him. And it seems, in understanding my frustration, God is patient. Perhaps someday, understanding will find me. I'm aware that my family's suffering and my mother's battle with dementia, isn't unique. Many walk this path, witnessing loved ones' personal universes evaporating-away daily. As these private realms shrink, our shared universe endures, a testament to resilience.
Suffering, though harsh, is a potent teacher. Whether we absorb its lessons rests with us. Suffering is indifferent. So, what can I glean from my mother's journey with dementia? Keep your personal universe as big and as vibrant as possible for as long as possible. Share it widely with others; and perhaps a fragment of you will reside in their universes. We're entrusted not to let those we cherish fade into oblivion. In our personal realms, and the universes of others, their memory should persist, passed down to those who follow. We must remember. Always. "What was that?" my oldest son said and pointed at something along the roadside. When you see something unexpectedly odd, it takes you a second to register it. That was the case for me a few weeks ago.   Travelling between Huntsville and Memphis on US 72 was a new experience for me. Although someone had warned me it was a dull road, I found it quite the opposite. The smooth pavement and light traffic made it an easy drive, and the charming Tennessee River farmland was a pleasant sight. I fell in love with the area instantly. As we approached the Mississippi border and passed by Cherokee, my oldest son in the passenger seat drew my attention to something unusual. At first, I thought it was a strange fruit hanging from a roadside tree, but as we whizzed by, I realized that these were shoes suspended from the branches. I longed to stop, but we were pressed for time. "We'll check it out on our way back," I promised, and we carried on towards Memphis. The following day, I kept my word. As we drove back towards Alabama in the mid-afternoon, I spotted the shoe tree and made a U-turn at the next crossover. I pulled over and grabbed my trusty Canon T-5, taking a few shots. The sun was high, and the air was fresh and cool after a major spring storm two nights before. The tree was beginning to bud with fresh shoots around the shoes. I managed to capture some shots despite the passing vehicles, and then we continued on with our journey.  Before stumbling upon the Cherokee Shoe Tree, I had no idea it existed. However, after a quick Google search, I discovered that it has been around for quite some time, though the exact number of years remains unknown. The earliest article I could find dates back to 2009, from the Tuscaloosa News. The article includes this quote: "... tree comes an unspoken rule: Need a pair, take a pair. But if you can spare a pair, then do it." According to a 2018 article on OMGFacts, shoe trees may have originated during the Great Depression as a way for people to donate extra pairs of shoes to those in need. This theory makes sense on several levels. For instance, Cherokee is just one of at least a dozen shoe trees in the United States. Roadside America provides locations for many of them, and if you click on the link and examine the map, you'll notice that many are located along routes used by economic refugees during the Great Depression. These routes led from the Deep South and the Dust Bowl to places like California and Detroit, where jobs were available. Why do shoe trees still exist today? Is it due to nostalgia, novelty, tradition, or tourism? Some sources suggest that spiritualism may be the root cause. As for the Cherokee Shoe Tree, there is an eerie and sacred quality to it that I find hard to describe. Though this feeling was somewhat subdued by the bright midday light and clear blue sky, which favors reason and logic over mysticism. Under different lighting conditions, such as dim light or murky mist, other aspects of the human psyche may hold sway. These are the moments when both my camera and I yearn for. Yet, even under the brightest sunlight, the primitive magic of this place seeps through. I could feel it, even though my camera failed to capture it fully. Perhaps shoe trees tap into something deeply mystical and ancient that is rooted in our common humanity, reaching back to the dawn of our species. "Trees have been regarded as the first temple of the gods, and sacred groves as the first places of worship.; they are held in the utmost reverence" - Hughes and Chandran. The tree is a universal symbol of life and a life-giving force in nearly every culture and civilization on earth. In the Bible, trees are mentioned 525 times, second only to God and humans. Trees are present at the beginning of Genesis, with the Tree of Life and the Tree of Good and Evil. Christ referred to himself as a vine, and he died on a "tree" of sorts. Christians even have the tradition of the Christmas Tree, which has its roots in European paganism. Trees are also sacred to many other faiths. Tree planting as a sign of life is mentioned in the Koran, and Buddhism and Hinduism also revere trees in their unique ways. European pagans worshiped in tree groves and considered oaks and yews sacred. The phenomenon of shoe trees taps into this ancient tradition. The shoes thrown across the limbs and scattered on the ground resemble a sacrifice, a gift, and a ritual all in one. It represents an interaction between two species, one ancient and one ephemeral. These shoe trees seem more at home in ancient druidic groves than beside a modern highway. If a druid were present, what would they say with each tossed sneaker or pair of high heels thrown into the branches? "Great and Ancient One, these shoes are a gift to the future, for someone I will never know and who will never know me. Please hold them for me. Watch over and guard the shoes until needy hands pluck them from your branches, or until they fall from your limbs like rotting fruit. There, they will cover the ground among your roots, among the fallen leaves until the earth reclaims them like old bones. Remember us, Great and Ancient One, and whisper our names to the forest so that one day others might know we once walked here. "Remember us." Articles About Shoe Trees and Tree Stuff The Legend of the Shoe Tree Grows on America's Loneliest Highway. Shoe Trees in Michigan and the Rumors That Surround Them. Shoe Trees are Popping Up All Around The World. Witness the Shoe Tree of Middlegate. Shoe Tree. Alabama's Legendary Shoe Tree: Lost Soles of Just Old Sneakers Thrown Over A Limb? A Few Youtube Videos on Shoe Trees.
If you enjoyed this blog, please like the post and leave a comment or if you're feeling brave, share it on social media. This platform is my entire advertising budget and is how I share the word on my books. Also visit my Facebook, my author page and check out my photography book from America Through Time, "Abandoned Wiregrass: The Deepest South's Lost and Forgotten Places." All images and literature are protected under US Copyright laws and shall not be downloaded or reproduced without written permission by Brian Braden Photography.
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