Writing Goals: Where did you start?Where are you now?

Photo by E. A. Fournier

My writing goals have changed considerably over the years--or perhaps they've finally arrived back at the starting point, but now with hard-won experience behind them.

I contracted the writing bug very early (it’s a virus, isn’t it?), and I knew my fondest goal was to make people laugh and cry from something I’d written. In my younger days, I wanted to be remembered as one of those writers who added something worthwhile to people’s lives.

I started as a poet in college. I’m an older guy, so those were the original protest years — the years of singing anti-war songs and reciting poetry to each other. Eventually, I realized that few poets ever made a living writing verse. Then I was sure that screenwriting was the way to go. I worked (infrequently) in the television industry in LA and marveled at what they paid me when I sold something, and then grinned when they paid me again, for no extra writing, when it went into reruns. (Yes, of course I had another job that paid reliable money on a predictable basis — didn’t we all?) I had a writing partner in those days. We had agents (over time, we went through a number of them). Back then, we had the foolish thought that if we could come up with the right idea (within the limits of our own morals) and pitch it to the right producer, we’d be allowed to write something wonderful that would make people laugh and cry (and make money). The order of events seems odd to me now.

My early self really thought the idea was the king — you know, the twist, the surprise, the never-before-thought-of situation that makes for a collectible poster. In my former mind, the characters, plot, dialogue, relationships, and stakes all came later. Looking back at that brown-haired, high-hoped younger guy from the vantage point of my white-haired, understated current self, I think it’s probably a good thing that he never succeeded back then.

So, what happened to me? Well, I went from screenwriting in California to writing and directing scripts for a multi-national corporation based in Minnesota. The engineering company thought my Hollywood background was a plus. Good for them. I flaunted that dubious reputation to the hilt and managed to remain employed for thirty years, turning their stodgy, derivative corporate communications into something fresh, funny, exciting (once in a while), and even touching (on occasion). I wrote shelves full of material over a long career, and the one thing the projects had in common was limits. I learned that you’re never more creative than when you must work within highly restrictive boundaries. Limits force creativity to either flourish or expire. One of my fondest-remembered compliments came from the CEO after a highly successful global meeting rife with AV, graphics, and pizzazz. After the finale and the stand-up applause had faded away and we were tearing down, he found me and said, “We need people like you in this company, just not too many.”

Did those years satisfy my inner yearning to make people laugh and cry? No. Did anyone remember me as adding something valuable to their lives? Maybe, once in a while, but ultimately, no. A part of me felt that by helping to sell widgets, I wasted my gift as a writer. On a positive note, I supplied income and health plans to my family, which was my main job at the time, whether it fulfilled me or not.

I’m retired now. While working, I continued to write screenplays and futilely sent them to my dated Hollywood contacts. A friend used to observe that clinging to such hopes was like balancing a four-by-four on your shoulder all the time; it makes every single activity in life harder. As I approached retirement, I realized that novel writing could provide an economical way to get what I wanted. After all, I already owned a pen. And imagination is free. Why did it take me so long to have such an epiphany? I’m a slow learner and stubborn — doubly hampered.

By then, I realized that my writing goals had changed. My whole view of the endeavour had altered. I finally understood that writing is a gift that some people have, and the vast majority of the rest do not. By writers, in this context, I mean my type of scribblers — the ones who write novels, not poems, not plays, not the other stuff.

This writing gift of mine, which has changed over time and hopefully matured, is meant to be used on behalf of those brothers and sisters of mine who cannot write but who want to read about themselves. I have always treasured the quote from C.S. Lewis. “We read to know that we are not alone.”

I think I’m healthier now. I’m more prepared to create stories that matter. I hope people will still laugh and cry when they read something I’ve written, and I hope they take away value from my books. I no longer care much about the money, the fifteen minutes of notoriety, or the rest of my dusty hopes. It’s enough to imagine a reader finishing one of my books, closing the back cover with a sigh, and whispering, “That was pretty good.”

Choosing the Cover Design for My Newest Book

ZOOM CALL WITH THE OWNER OF DAMONZA:

Robynne, my Project Director, notified me that they wanted to set up a Zoom meeting with the Art Director before beginning the cover design process. I wondered who that would be and they said it was Damon Freeman, the owner and brains behind the company. This was a new experience for me and intimidating. I greatly admire the Damonza company and feel they do a great job creating covers for far more important writers than myself. I was quite impressed that Mr. Freeman would actually be my Art Director, and that he would take time out of his schedule to discuss my project personally. My other nagging concern was that since I seldom participate in Zoom sessions, I was sure something wouldn't work, and I would be powerless to rectify it. I could just picture myself sitting on Zoom with Damon Freeman and looking like an idiot.

I set everything up. I checked the lighting, audio, connection numbers, join codes, etc. The time arrived, I connected, and there was Damon, sitting behind a table in a small conference room. He greeted me cheerily, his accent delightful, and I responded in kind but Damon tilted his head, looked puzzled, and replied, "You have no audio."

Oh no! My screen looked totally different now that I was in the live meeting. I frantically scoured the edges of my iPad for audio icons, volume controls, anything! Nothing helpful. He calmly talked to me, trying to offer help; making suggestions, offering reschedule times. I answered back, forgetting that he couldn't hear me. A boulder sank in my stomach as I felt trapped right in the middle of my worst fears. Then, I must have bumped something, because suddenly the screen view resized and there on the edge appeared a few formerly hidden icons, one of which was an activated mute button. I depressed it and all was suddenly well. What a relief! (I later deduced that, for whatever reason, when Zoom made the actual connection it brought me in already muted. Who knew?)

The actual meeting went great. Damon was friendly and practical. He had reviewed all my materials and understood what I was hoping for. He fired off pertinent questions and listened closely. He assured me that his people would discover a way to meet my desires. He took notes as we discussed the importance of the diary to the romance as well as to the suspense in the story. He mentioned he had an idea of how to use the diary in the design and asked me to send him actual excerpts from diary entries used in the book. I felt we hit it off rather well. I left the meeting relaxed and confident (despite my technical deficiencies at the start).

REVIEWING THE DESIGNS:

Within two weeks, as promised, I was emailed three draft cover designs to be reviewed. The contract with Damonza states that I must choose one of these draft designs as my preferred cover. They will then continue to refine that chosen one until I'm totally satisfied. If none of the draft designs work for me, they will start over. After a second round, if we still can't agree on a vision, they will refund my money. It sounded fair to me in theory but now that I had actual files to open and review, I felt some trepidation creeping in.

It's a strange experience opening art files to see your proposed book covers for the first time. Since I was creating three versions, a 6X9 hardcover, a 6X9 paperback, and an eBook, they were displayed together with the hardback image the most prominent. I admit that I kind of squinted with one eye closed when I opened each file, as if afraid of what I was about to see. Dread sat on the sidelines whispering, "What if none of them work? What if you hate them all? What will you say then?"

Let me preface my response here to explain that all of the designs were professionally executed, featuring beautiful images and appropriate text, but still, the first two looked like most of the high-end covers I typically see. They were interesting and colorful, one even had a diary in the foreground, but neither was right. I thought they could have been designs for a hundred other books. I've seen the type before, on Amazon and at the bookstores. My hope dimmed. One left.

And then I viewed the final file. It was radically different. I sighed in deep relief. Here was my cover! It achieved everything I'd wanted. Such a deceptively simple, straight-forward design. It was unique and yet managed to incorporate the actual handwritten diary, it found the right look for the main characters, their troubled romance, the implied danger, even the correct part of the country. Everything wasn't perfect, but it was so close in each key element, it was uncanny. I was in awe. It reaffirmed everything I loved about my last experience with Damonza when they designed an award-winning cover for my last book, Still Breathing.

We continued for a few more days with a spirited back-and-forth about minor changes and final tweaks through two more rounds, until I felt it was as perfect as perfect can be. I couldn't be happier with the final result, or the experience. Damonza hit a homerun again!

It's Official: My New Book is Complete and the Design of the Cover has Begun

After all the writing and editing, after the Beta readings, the rewrites, the trimmings and more trimmings, we finally arrive at the cover design. I find this part of the book process to be interesting, even exciting. In my mind's eye I have an image of the cover that will wrap around the content I've agonized over for three years, but that image is more emotional than visual. It's more related to the reaction that I hope people will take away with them upon viewing the cover than the cover's elements themselves. I find myself hard-pressed to describe to my designers the vision I hold in my head. The creative process of book covers feels half magical to me and going through it is like photographing music. The part I don't enjoy is how much it all costs. Of course, everything in this complicated book world costs something, and many of the promised results prove dubious. In the case of the book cover, however, I clearly accept that it as my only chance to make a first impression.

Writing books is such a strange addiction: there's way more lows than highs, so it's a wonder anyone keeps at it. For me, it takes years of hard work to go from a blank page to a finished manuscript. It entails days of delight and days of despondency, often back to back. I know, we live in an era where AI software pinky-promises that they can deliver a glorious, finished book in just a few hours, if we'll only feed them a half-baked premise and a small fee. Want to change genres? No problem. They'll even throw in a stunning cover and the trailer for the upcoming film for a slight up-charge. As far as I'm concerned, I still believe that writing is for humans and AI can assist but not replace real authors. I'm happy to discuss that thesis but not here and not now.

The book design company I'm currently working with is Damonza Studios. They are the brainchild of Damon Freeman, an advertising and design refugee, who saw the self-publishing boom coming back in 2012 and built a small company to welcome it. He and his team have now designed covers and interior formatting for literally thousands of books. Based in Auckland, New Zealand, Damon's company of motivated professionals somehow convert the thoughts in your head into compelling images on a cover. I've seen them in action once before with my Literary Novel, Still Breathing, and I'm trusting the magic still holds true.

I enjoy working with Damonza because their approach is so straight forward. I've completed their first steps already: chosen a package, filled out their practical forms, and sent along my own hopes for front matter, body matter, and back matter. I've delivered my copyright page as well as my ISBN numbers. I've finalized my Author's Notes section and I've made my deposit payment (50% of the total fee). Most importantly, I've sent them my final "tweaked and perfect" manuscript as a Word document. My project has now been assigned a number and I've met (via email) my project manager, Robynne. I've sent Robynne my written thoughts about the cover and she's moved them on to her right people. Damonza guarantees I’ll have three draft designs to view within 14 days. If none of the initial drafts (or any follow-up first draft attempts) feel like the right fit, and if I'm not satisfied with the direction overall, they’ll refund my full deposit with no hard feelings. Otherwise, if I select one of their design directions as the one I want to go with, they will revise it "endlessly" until I say it's exactly perfect. (That's quite a fair guarantee!)

Today, at 6 pm my time (Auckland is now 17 hours ahead), I have a 15-minute Zoom conference with my project's creative director, Damon Freeman himself, to talk about my expectations and ideas regarding the cover design. I'm looking forward to that discussion and will report back how it goes.

This new book, Her Lost Diary, is in a new genre for me, Contemporary Romantic Suspense, and I expect the cover to be different than what I'm used to. I'm a firm believer in allowing human experts, especially those more skilled than I am, to have their way. It doesn't mean I abdicate my responsibility to say yes or no, but it means I listen first and weigh their reasons for what they create, before I make any decisions or offer reactions.

We will see what we will see.