I got a three-star review the other day from one of my favorite readers.
I’ll admit it—it stung a little.
But the value of honest feedback ultimately outweighs that momentary ache, especially when the reviewer is someone you can email directly to talk things through.
This one was about Essence of the Gods. Honestly, I thought Miriam and Amun’s romance was more compelling than Molly and Nick’s. I really thought I nailed it.
Shows what I know!
This was the exact moment the Amun train derailed for her before it even left the station:
“The man who entered moved like a scholar, slightly hunched, as if perpetually leaning over books. Wire-rimmed glasses and a tweed jacket completed the professor aesthetic. Except… something about the way he watched me suggested the academic façade was exactly that: a façade.”
In my head, it’s clear—he’s performing. He’s cloaked in tweed and glasses, not because that’s who he is, but because it’s part of the role he’s playing. I know all the things he is, because I live with him in my head.
But it took seeing him through someone else’s eyes to realize what a reader might see. That moment sent me straight to the manuscript, determined to rewrite his entrance the way he deserved—and the way my readers deserved to experience him.
Here’s the updated intro:
The man who entered didn’t carry himself like a scholar, although he wore the uniform. Wire-rimmed glasses perched on a strong, angular nose, and a well-worn tweed jacket hinted at a professor’s quiet authority. But the illusion cracked at the edges. When his dark, piercing eyes met mine, I felt an unexpected rush of heat. His lips curved into a smile that transformed his serious face into something dangerously appealing.
My mind went back to Jules’s Indiana Jones reference. It wasn’t that, not exactly—but I’d bet good money Dr. Amun Habet could give Dr. Jones a run for his money when it came to tracking down artifacts, punching bad guys, and making female students crazy about him.
As authors, we spend so much time with our characters that it’s hard to spot what’s missing. Ideally, these gaps would show up during beta reads—but one of the gifts of being an indie author is having the freedom to revise.
I tend to avoid over-the-top descriptions—you know the ones. Bulging muscles, stormy eyes, windblown hair that somehow never tangles. I roll my eyes at them as a reader, so I tread lightly as a writer.
But this experience was a valuable reminder: readers can’t see what I see unless I show them. They deserve to feel that heat, that flicker of “oh hello” when Amun enters the scene.
Sometimes the most important writing lessons come wrapped in three-star packages—and for that, I’m grateful.