I was recently talking to a highly successful editor, and she was telling me about the recent aesthetic evolution of book cover design. The essence is this: With the increase in sales of books on the internet, it has become important to design a book cover so that it can be read. Previously, one saw the book in a book store—and there it was—with carefully (one hopes) designed graphic art. Yes the title and author’s name were there, but they were embedded in the art. Now, online, we see very small images of the cover. The need to present author’s name and book title becomes more important. As a result more attention is being paid to cover size, font, and design of the type. I suspect that this will be less a factor in books for young people—surely picture books, and middle grade novels. But there it is, the latest word. But I suspect it will influence the title itself—for that will tend to attract (or not) the reader even more. It will also favor known writers over new or lessor known.
Tag Archives: publishing
Book Culture
One of the crucial things that drive writers, I think, is the desire to be part of what I refer to as Book Culture. This is the universe of the book; writing, reading, making, publishing, book-selling, libraries, editing, design, marketing—and you can add much more to the list, I’m sure. If you were a very young reader, as I was, you grew up amidst various aspects of this world. I suppose I could start with the picture books my mother read to us nightly when kids, to the gift of a book (always) on birthday and Christmas, the local library. I decided to become a writer when I was a teen-ager. In a diary I kept when a high school senior (1955) there are long lists of the books I was reading. But there is also the title of a play I wrote which I listed between Ibsen’s Enemy of the People and Dylan Thomas‘ Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog, with the parenthetical note (“That’s nice to put down.”) In other words, I was placing myself among great writers. Yes, a seventeen-year-old’s fantasy, but that was the world of which I wished to be a part. So when a friend sent me The National Endowment for the Humanities “Summer Booklist for Young Readers,” updated for the first time since 1988, it was fun to see, wedged between Hans Christian Anderson’s Fairy Tales and Natalie Babbitt’s Tuck Everlasting, my book Poppy (illustrated by Brian Floca). Just as in 1955, it’s nice to be a part of that world.
Finishing a book
How does it feel to finish a book after working on it for months, if not years, every day, and for most working hours? As the writer Harry Eyres has suggested, it is a “triumphant moment of loss.” Famously, Virginia Woolf suffered acute depressions when she finished her novels. Not so uncommon among writers. It’s not that bad for me, I’m glad to say. But—as a writer—your life has been structured on your daily involvement with plot, characters, etc., etc.,—and then it all goes. Those people, and their dilemmas, that you have invented were your daily companions. You’ worried and fretted about them. Wondered what they were doing. Saying. Then—they go away. They become your readers’ friend. (In fact your readers tell you things about your characters that you never knew!) Melancholy moment, indeed. Nothing else to do but—start something new. Or mow the lawn.
Rejected!
I have published a lot of books. I have lots of readers. I have won a lot of awards. But I have never sent in a new book—as I have just done—to an editor without feeling nervous, and worried that it might be rejected. And I have been rejected.
Once upon a time I submitted a book. The editor called and said the book was no good. “Is there anything that might be salvaged?” I asked. The editor thought for a moment and said, “You could keep the title.”
Then there was the time the book was accepted. Or so I thought. A day later the editor called and said “I changed my mind. I don’t want it. You bullied me into taking it.”
Then there was a book that was rejected because, “It’s too scary. It will do your reputation no good.”
I suppose it’s also a rejection when the editor says, “I need to think about it,” and never calls again. Another line. “What’s the matter with it?” I asked. “Not enough salt,” said the editor.
It has been reported that Charles Dickens, in his role as an editor, rejected a novel titled, Pearls on a String. His rejection letter (in its entirety) said, “Too much string. Not enough pearls.” That wasn’t my book, I’m glad to say.
Anyway, here I am waiting to learn my new book’s fate. Stay tuned.