A good author is hard to find. I read (and listen to) tons of books a year. Some aren’t fantastic. Others make me smile. But it’s really rare for me to walk away with a new favorite author, which is why I treasure my existing handful of favorite authors so much.

Some of these authors only release a book a year if I’m lucky. Most of the time I savor every minute of the book and mourn it when it’s over, keeping the characters in my thoughts for months on end. Which is why on the rare occasion when one of my favorite authors slaps me upside the head with a bad book, that it is so irritating.

The bad (in my opinion) book actually pisses me off as I read it. I want to take to Good Reads for a nasty review airing all of my gripes about this book that robbed me of hours of my life and complain about this author who I once adored and how she let me down.

But here’s the thing. The writer did not set out to write a bad book that pissed me off. If the book was left of center that was likely intentional. Maybe she was stretching boundaries a bit and just missed the mark. Or maybe the bulk of her fans loved it and it’s just my own issues sullying the book for me. Regardless, it shouldn’t make me mad.

So as I close this latest book by one of my favorite authors, I shelve it and wait for her next to release which I will promptly pick up and give a shot, because I love her for a reason. She has gotten me in the past and will get me again in the future most likely. And besides, aren’t we all entitled to a bad day?