Bleugh

Bleugh: The Review That Punched Me in the Ego

I once stepped in dog shit and said, “Bleugh.” I’ve eaten food gone bad and muttered, “Bleugh.” But never in my entire life would I drop that word, alone and unflavoured, into a public review of someone’s work. And yet, that’s exactly what happened. One word. One brutal syllable. A Goodreads troll slapped it on Mr 303, my sci-fi baby, and called it a day.

The Sound of Vomit as Literary Critique

Where did “Bleugh” even come from? It’s a gag reflex. A burp wrapped in judgment. A noise you make when you see something foul, not a thoughtful reaction to a 70,000-word novel that took months to write, edit, rewrite, and bleed over. If you’re going to dismiss something, at least do it with some nuance. Say, “Too slow-paced.” Say, “Not enough action.” Say, “Why is everyone dying all the time?”

But “Bleugh”? That’s the equivalent of flipping the bird and walking away.

Mr 303 and the Long Haul to Publication

I wrote Mr 303 with zero sci-fi credentials and a lot of reckless hope. After editing costs that made my bank account cry, months of structural rewrites, and beta readers who lovingly annihilated my ego with red pen, I finally published it. It got some love… real love. Five stars from actual humans who enjoyed it. And then came the 1-star drive-by, courtesy of our friend, Anonymous. No explanation. No effort. Just: “Bleugh.” Hello Mr Troll.

I mean, Cordon “Bleugh” Chef-level disrespect.

Cordon Bleugh: When Trolls Think They’re Food Critics

To be fair, maybe I’m a culinary experimenter. Maybe Mr 303 is chocolate-dipped sardines, something only those with evolved tastebuds can handle. Not everyone’s into the whole post-apocalyptic, virus-wipes-out-humanity, dark-sarcasm cocktail. Fine. But you don’t throw it in the bin without at least tasting it. And if you do, you owe it more than a sound effect.

The Real Cost of Lazy Reviews

Trolling is a sport now. One-star ratings from people who haven’t even read the book, watched the film, or tried the product. We’ve normalised being arseholes behind screens. And sure, I’ve written about trolls before, but this blog isn’t about them. It’s about accountability. If you’ve got something to say about someone’s work, say it. But say it like a person, not a hyena with a Wi-Fi signal.

Would you walk up to an author at a signing and say, “Bleugh”? No? Because it’s rude. Because it makes you look stupid. Because it gives no one (not the author, not the next reader) anything useful.

A Bit of Respect, Please

People take risks when they create something. Whether it’s writing, painting, filming, or singing: art is personal. When you review that work, you’re not just rating the product. You’re rating someone’s hours, sweat, nerves, insecurities, and dreams. So maybe, just maybe, use words.

If you didn’t like something, explain why. Maybe the pacing was off. Maybe you couldn’t connect with the characters. Maybe you expected romance and got a biological apocalypse. That’s helpful. That’s something we can work with.

Don’t Be a Prat: Review Like a Human

Here’s a basic guide:

Do:

• Offer honest but respectful feedback
• Highlight what worked and what didn’t
• Acknowledge the effort that went into the work
• Say what might help future readers (and the author)

Don’t:

• Be a faceless asshole with a keyboard
• Use “Bleugh” as a complete review (unless you’re five)
• Say anything you wouldn’t say in person
• Leave nothing. Silence doesn’t help anyone either

Final Word Before I Hit Post

The internet is full of creators trying, failing, trying again. And if you’re one of the folks doling out reviews, remember that a single word can uplift or crush. If you’re about to type “Bleugh,” stop. Ask yourself if you’re five. Then try something like: “Wasn’t for me, here’s why.”

Stephen King wrote some stinkers early on. Imagine if he quit after someone said, “Bleugh.”

Cheers for tuning in.

Fox

PS: Want to read the book that inspired that charming review? Mr 303 is still live. And yes, it still has a happy fanbase (and a body count).