I can’t look at the accursed things anymore. Not for a few days, at least. While the majority of reviews and ratings on my novella have been good — and I do appreciate that — the recent bad reviews have been driving me up a wall. And as a result, I’ve been driving Erich and all of my friends up a wall. Railing against the comments of reviewers who don’t understand the character motivations in the story accomplishes nothing, since there is no effective way to respond to critics without attracting harsher criticism. And there’s no way to pull the book from the “shelves” once it’s out there.
And frankly, I have better things to do with my time, such as working on Murderous Requiem, which is going well, as long as I can stay focused on it.
So I’m just going to stay the hell away from Goodreads for a while. That’s the only way I can regain my equilibrium and focus on writing again. If somebody wants to go around telling the world that Larry, my lovable oafish character in the novella — who I happen to be very fond of — is really a manipulative, sociopathic rapist, then they can talk to the hand. I don’t want to hear it anymore.
I have real work to do.
Jamie Fessenden's Blog 
Hell, yeah. Turns out I have a ton of reviews on goodreads for my new NF book, a memoir of working retail, and like the ones on amazon, they veer wildly from ecstatic 5-stars to scathing one-stars. My favorite so far (not): “Bitter, pretentious and lazy, lazy, lazy.”
Excuse me?
These people can’t write for shit and they’re envious. The hell with them.
When I was first published, I was surprised to learn that a lot of the other published writers I met never read reviews. I couldn’t figure out why, because it seemed like the good reviews would be worth an occasional bad review. But I’m no longer sure of that. The bad reviews can really drain you.