Readers’ affection for the evocative Hardscrabble Road cover photo (above at left, with the three boys on Spring Creek near Colquitt, GA) has helped to sell copies of that book for ten years and counting. This image also inspired at least one reader to paint it; she honored me with a copy that hangs in a place of honor in my home. The cover photo is one of several gifted to me by my first wife’s father, the actual Roger/”Bud” whose childhood I fictionalized for that historical novel. The photo at right, of him and his two old brothers as teenagers, was another such gift and is the centerpiece of the Return to Hardscrabble Road cover.
In the latter photo, I love how the arms of the older boys (Jay and Chet in the books) are entwined while the youngest (Roger in the books) is merely leaning against his middle brother. I think it captures both the loving relationship among the boys and also the perpetual conflict that my protagonist feels: being one of the trio but always slightly apart. In Return to Hardscrabble Road, the bonds between siblings (including their older sister) will be tested more than ever.
We are cautioned as children, “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” This is usually said when an adult is either warning a child not to be taken in by someone who seems charming on the outside but is harboring bad intent or encouraging a child to give a gruff or otherwise scary person a chance to demonstrate the goodness in their heart. I remember an instance when I heard it twice at one family get-together—from the same parent—where one meaning was intended and then the other, about two different relatives. Perhaps growing up with such craziness turned me into a writer. The saying probably never applied to actual books because any of us who is sighted makes an initial judgment whenever we glimpse a cover. It might be a visceral love/hate response, a feeling of intrigue or confusion at what we’re seeing, a shrugging “meh,” or whatever, but we do have an immediate reaction.
Using photographs for a book cover is tricky. Displaying a black-and-white image to convey the “back in the day” nature of a story has been a device for so long, it’s almost a cliché at this point. But not just any photo will do because many pictures don’t tell a story. Nothing is happening in such photos and often no feelings are being exhibited—the shots just look old.
Regardless of whether the cover makes use of a photo or an illustration, the subjectivity of every decision the publisher/author must make can be paralyzing (and many publishers overrule their authors’ preferences). This applies to everything from colors and fonts to faces. Faces, for example, can be engaging or a turnoff, depending on the viewer, so it’s chancy to show them. This is the reason so many characters depicted on book covers have their backs to the viewers: the publisher/author wants the viewer to project their idea of an engaging face rather than risk showing one that won’t grab readers’ attention.
I was lucky to have been given the image of the three boys on the creek because it’s a classic image that looks like something out of Huck Finn or Tom Sawyer and tells a story of poverty, ruggedness, and rural life. The black and white graininess suggests the Great Depression, which is when the actual photo was taken. Though the photo of the boys as teenagers may not be as timeless, I do hope it conveys the closeness of the brothers, even if readers don’t immediately notice the difference between the other two brothers’ affection and Roger’s slight apartness.
Titles can also be problematic. The titles of the books we love often last in our memory long after we forget the authors’ name, but how to pick a good one? Short and punchy or long and lyrical? As with covers, publishers often reject the authors’ choice and request another one or select something their marketing department prefers. Whichever way the publisher/author goes, what they settle on must be memorable while also being uncommon or, even better, unique—but not off-putting. They need to do a search on Amazon to see if others have already used the title they have in mind. If other titles are identical or at least similar, they must decide whether their book is at least in a different genre or is in another way distinctive.
I had to change the title of my kidnap thriller from The Color of Lies a couple months before publication after discovering a just-published novel of that title featuring a protagonist with chromesthesia, same as mine. Someone had beaten me to the punch, so I had to come up with Watch What You Say. In hindsight, I think it works even better, especially when paired with the colorful eye on the cover, hinting at Bo Riccardi’s chromesthetic ability: an image that tells a story.
Hardscrabble Road has a few titular competitors, but it’s distinctive enough to stand out—and it works well as a metaphor for Roger’s journey through childhood. My other historical novel, The Five Destinies of Carlos Moreno, is on the “long and lyrical” end of the spectrum. But is it memorable? Not according to its sales, but it is unique. On the other hand, my domestic drama The Caretaker and my mystery novel Aftermath are short and punchy—easy to remember—but utterly commonplace and tough to find if someone recommends either book to a friend but can’t recall my name. For example, dozens of books have “aftermath” in their title, including a Star Wars novel, which will always show up at the top of search lists.
All these obstacles can be overcome, though. Aftermath is second only to Hardscrabble Road in number of books sold among my titles, so people are managing to find that mystery, though thank goodness the Star Wars books aren’t whodunits. My titles tend to tell stories, which is why Return to Hardscrabble Road is so named: it sounds like the sequel it is. At every book signing I do, buyers compliment the cover art of all my novels, so kudos continue to go to SFK Press and Indigo collaborative designer Olivia Hammerman for making my books eye-catching.
I hope, dear readers, that this primer has given you an appreciation for some of the decisions and subtleties that go into the book covers and titles you see in your favorite bookstore and online. It’s impossible not to judge, I know, but spare a thought for the book equivalent of the scary-looking relative with goodness in their heart.