There are some times in life (or in my case, in writing) where having the guts to admit you’re wrong turns out to be a good thing. Actually, it’s always a good thing to acknowledge it when you’re wrong, no matter how difficult it may be.
Take for example my latest release. Creating covers for my books is something I enjoy doing. I save it for when I’m near the end of the book. It’s my gift to myself for having done most of the work, for being able to see the light at the end of the long, lonely tunnel.
My first cover was not only artistically lovely, it had some relation to the story. There is a scene in the story when the two main characters go for a ride in a canoe. “Perfect” I said out loud when I found it...then proceeded to do what’s necessary to turn it into a cover.
But covers are clever little devils. They speak out loud when no-one else will. Sort of like the kid on the bus who says “Mommy, why is that lady crying?” when everyone else is trying to ignore the poor woman. Yeah, they’re like that.
My first attempt was too dark. It got lost in among thousands of romance offerings. I usually check the Amazon sales pages for the first few days after I upload a new book and a couple of times I scrolled right past it myself. Now how’s that for non-eye-catching?
So I manned up and made a new one. It’s bright, it’s noticeable, and the book is already doing better. A lesson learned? I hope so.
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