Imagine being told your book blurb is too vague. Now, if you’re me, you’d think, “Great! I meant it to be.” But also… “Wait—is it too vague? Should I panic?”
Well, it gave me a pause. And then I smiled. Because what followed wasn’t a quick critique, it was a thoughtful, well-written response from a reader who cared enough to dig in.
She asked real questions:
What kind of betrayal?
From whom?
Is the “void” literal or emotional?
What is the “truth too devastating to face”?
And then she said:
“There’s such a thing as being too mysterious. You need to give the reader something tangible to grab the imagination.”
She had a point. Some readers want the map. Others want to wander into the woods with nothing but a lantern and a whisper of danger. I tend to write for people like that. Some want clarity. Others want fog. And me? I tend to write in fog. A little mysterious. On purpose. But not too much. I’m sorry, I just don’t want to give away the whole farm. 🐄
But here’s what mattered most: She phrased her feedback beautifully. She made me think. She reminded me why I write the way I write, and whom I write it for.
So no, I’m not changing the blurb. (Well, one thing—I changed it a hundred times. I just stopped.) But I’m incredibly grateful for her honesty. Because the best kind of feedback doesn’t try to change your voice, it makes you think. And maybe next time, I’ll consider revealing just a little more in the blurb.
And no, I don’t dismiss feedback like this. It reminds me just how diverse readers are, and how powerful it is when someone takes the time to respond thoughtfully.
