A wedge of authors have became popular against all the odds. A chunk of writers have sold material on the back of paying people to review their books. Some writers have grown their careers by selling books explaining (in detail) how they made their name, but conveniently the chapter describing how they initially paid for hundreds of fake reviews is missing. They have ballooned the perception of their talent and taken your money, then taken your money again by selling a lie, which covered up the truth about what made you buy their books in the first place.
These ‘writers’ are the enemy of words. They are the plastic Phoenixes rising from the heat of their own moist flatulence.
They have manipulated an environment where they are statistically more successful by throwing money at fake reviewers. These authors might be perceived as important, but I believe for a person to write something of worth, a person must first be worth something. And paying to rig a system, alludes to a mind less beautiful. Some justify the process by saying paying for a reviewer does not mean paying for the review. Some reviewers even say they will take the money, but only review honestly. Then you check the reviews. And they are all five star: once money exchanges hands, a grey cloud appears in the sky above the land of honesty. And that cloud later rains urine. And clowns. And spiders.
No, it later rains tiny incontinent spider clowns. And umbrellas are outlawed.
That’s not a town I want to live in.
Your book could be brilliant, but if you’re not prepared or cannot pay money to manufacture a false review system, then your book, even if it is wonderful, will be perceived to be worse than books that are successful, but actually terrible.
Here’s a fact: each time someone pays for a fake review a fairy gets its wings pulled off by a goblin, who then shits the broken wings out into the face of a yawning angel.
I don’t like the idea that “literary success” is less about talent and more about expenditure, but perhaps it is: perhaps that is the way it’s always been – not just in the indie world, but in traditional publishing too. Marketing is king, and money supports marketing. There are very few, if any, traditionally printed books that are not smothered in gushing quotes by some famous name from within the industry, regardless of how rubbish the book turns out to be.
We had a chance to create something better.
We had the chance to create a world where good books are judged by their content, and not their cover. But instead of being authors, we studied marketing. We filed into the system and waited for our heads to be patted, and because of the same selfish people that turn up at the beginning of everything that could be good, we have corrupted that system.
People with more money than wisdom, people with a bigger budget than talent: these are the Gods of this literary cardboard Babylon.
Read books and say what you want about them. Support the people out there who have sacrificed for words. Support talent. Support authors who write regardless of what people think of their writing, and recognise the people who write because they are desperate for an affirmation from strangers: for a Facebook like, or a five star review they handed to a reviewer and wrote themselves.
Stick two fingers into the dry eyeball of truth: review, and just say no to fake reviews.