CHARLESTON, W.Va. -- Last winter, Linda Mays, a student in my husband's novel class, shared a link to a book on Amazon.com that had been sent to her by a friend.

Apparently, said Mays, her friend's motivation in sending the link was to encourage her to continue writing. "She must've been thinking, 'Hey, if this person can get a book published, maybe you can, too.' "

Mays wrote that she followed the link and read some excerpts from the book, then scrolled down and began reading the reviews.

"That's where the real fun began," said Mays, who shared the link with the rest of the class.

At that time, though, I must've been busy, because rather than follow the link, I saved it for later, then forgot all about it until this past weekend. My husband and I had just returned from a writing conference, which usually gets me so charged up I can't return to my keyboard fast enough.

But this time was different. Instead of brimming with ideas and how to approach them, I came home feeling I've been playing out of my league. There are so many fabulous writers in West Virginia alone. How can I hope to even rise to the middle, much less the top?

Fortunately, when I'd saved the link Linda Mays sent, I attached a note to myself that said, "Something to read the next time you're feeling down about writing."

I followed the link and read the reviews.

"As a rule," wrote one of the early reviewers, "I force myself to read at least half of a book, no matter how terrible it is. I must say, this was most certainly the worst half of a book I've ever read. If you're the type of person who likes to stop and look at train wrecks, see if the library has a copy. If not, spare yourself."

Wrote another, "You know when you're sitting on the toilet and you can choose between reading this book or the ingredients on the back of the baby powder? Choose the baby powder. I couldn't get through two pages before my eyes started bleeding."

Then came what must've been a tongue-in-cheek recommendation.

"Forget Harry Potter. Forget Stephen King. Forget Citizen Kane. Forget that Citizen Kane wasn't a book," wrote one reviewer. "[This] is the book you'll be talking about to your children's children. It's the Dune of our generation. Imagine if Tolkien were alive today and writing SciFi Romance, and you'll have a good idea what this book is like. [This book] is the thinking person's scifi romance novel! Read it now before it's made into a major motion picture!"

Said the next person: "The above review is more creative than the book."

I realized then why I'd saved the link as something to read when I'm down. It was to remind myself that few things can be more inspiring than to read a really bad book. One that somehow got published.

So many times I've finished the last page feeling disappointed by a terrible ending, by a character who suddenly does something completely uncharacteristic, by a far-too-convenient solution, or by some other sin that makes me angry to have wasted time on the book. I'll often be so aggravated I'll toss the book in the trash rather than get a quarter from some future yard sale book buyer looking for a cheap read.

But not anymore. Not now that I've realized even horrible books have something to offer: hope.

Hope that if drivel like that managed to get a publisher's stamp of approval, that maybe someday, I, too, might have my name on a cover.

I recognize the impossibility of writing a book that everyone loves, but if I keep at it long enough, maybe I'll write something that at least inspires a few other writers.

Reach Karin Fuller at karinful...@gmail.com.