I don't mean to be an ego freak, but both I like hearing what people have to say about my fiction, even if they don't like it. On Literotica, they can get pretty damning. I made the mistake of posting my story about a Female Led Relationship in the "Loving Wives" category and found that out quickly. The Loving Wives category is more about wives having sex with other people, not about putting their husbands in dog collars and taking control. Some of the more vivid criticisms called me "sick" and asked that I stay away from their pets / children, which was odd because there was nothing about animals or children in the story. It was also odd, because here was someone most likely pleasuring themselves to online erotica about wives behaving in very slutty ways, damning someone else for writing erotica they didn't agree with (or perhaps that disturbed them). I also noticed some of the same negative reviewers commented on several parts of the story, including the end.
Why would you continue to read something that disgusted you so much?
|A Glowing Reviewer (get it?)|
I'll say this: I don't need the money, but there is something nice about watching how many copies are being sold, and the moment I get a review, I prepare for the worst, but I'm usually pleasantly surprised.
Before I buy a book on Kindle, I read the reviews. Hell, before I buy anything on Amazon, I read the reviews. Reviews make me want to buy a certain product and steer clear of others. I've posted my own reviews on various products under different names (my pseudonym and my real name) with this in mind. Still, I know that at least for E-books, reviews aren't everything. Some of my favorites have never had a single review. Take "The Hotel" for instance. Not a single review, until I posted one.
For E-books, Fictionmania, etc. I doubt I will ever post a negative review (unless the author has done something egregious). But reviews matter. If you're ever inclined to post one, not necessarily on my work, but on fiction that rocked your boat, rang your clock, lit you up inside, tell the author and the audience that it did.
(For the record, I love pets and children and I'm very good with them and can't conceive of hurting either. My little perversion doesn't change the quality of my soul. If anything, it makes me more sympathetic to everyone's strange internal desires. And it's not perverted either: it's human sexuality. It don't get more diverse and perverse than that.)