Could Have Been So Beautiful

Most writers have those moments when they don't know how to begin. I am having one of those right now as I try to think how to start this post. This last month has been one of the most confusing in my writing life. Actually, no, not my writing life, my professional life. The writing life plods on much the same from dazzle to doldrums and back again within a week, feeling virtuous on the days I write deep into 4 figure wordcounts and blue on the days that I don't. Most days I don't feel professional at all. But the days around publication, those are the ones that make me feel all writerly, as I dash from radio interview to review to cocktails and then to the bank to pay the cheque in. And this time I had the added complication of feeling, um, complicated about the cover and the title and the blurb and basically everything that fell out of my control over the last few years.

When my debut was published the first cover I was presented with made me cry with joy, it was as if my editor has crawled inside my head and then put all my intentions and ideas into one image. Then gradually that first cover was compromised and what was left looked similar but didn't thrill me at all. The title was not my first suggestion, but it was my best one, and I thought it was hilarious that the blurb was word for word a pitch document I had written for my agent several months before.

Still, all very exciting. Debut novel, woop woop. I can't explain just how heart-breakingly, tear-inducingly grateful I was when people liked it. I will never forget crossing the Thames on the top deck of a bus while my publicist (my publicist! Ha!) read out the review from the Daily Mirror which I forever after referred to as The Rave.

The second time around with The Truth About Ruby Valentine, I adored my cover, the final version, the one that was in the shops. Except once it was in the shops it started to look a bit grubby. It was white you see and the dirty fingers of my potential readers would leave marks. This bothered me. If I am going to spend money on a brand new book by an author I haven't read before then it damn well better be clean. But oh my, it was a beautiful cover and people still comment on just how beautiful it was. I like the title too.




Almost two weeks ago A Reluctant Cinderella went out into the world. It feels as if I am going to a party dressed by a very well-intentioned friend that I cannot offend by changing. It's not a bad cover, it's not a bad title, in fact they are both good. But it's not what I would have chosen to wear to the party. Not if I wanted people to like me, and to dance with me, not if this party would determine my popularity for the rest of time.

It's just not what the book is about, it's not what I am about. My personal style, in all senses of the word, is not pink princess carriages. Chloe at Chicklit Reviews sums up how I feel about it here, except that she's a bit harder on my publisher than I would be. I believe they had a plan and tried their best. I think by the time publication day rolled around they knew I wasn't wildly enthusiastic about the package but I tried to get behind it and even agreed not to talk about football.

Because my book is about football and if you've read this far into this post then you deserve the truth. No, in fact I think you deserve the truth from the beginning but maybe (sorry, gotta do it) you can't handle the truth. Football? Bleugh. Except you don't have to be into football to like my book any more than you have to be into polo to like Polo by Jilly Cooper or into prostitution to like the film Pretty Woman. It's about a woman who is scared to look down in case she falls, so she keeps going no matter what. It's about a sister and a brother. It's about having sex with a Russian billionaire and falling in love with your boss.

Bookalicious Ramblings got the idea with this cover, though I would have preferred a title like 'This Is A Man's World' with that art.



I have no way of knowing whether the book would have sold any more copies had it been packaged differently, but I know I would have felt better about it all. I originally wanted to call it Studs (football, studs, geddit?)and saw something more like this on the cover...



or this...



If I was technically minded I would have mocked up a cover properly for you, and maybe that's what I should have done months and months ago. I should have worked harder to come up with a better title too. I should have been sending them plenty of ideas instead of shrugging my shoulders after the first half a dozen rejected attempts and saying, 'okay, you choose, I don't care' because I do care. Very much. So why didn't I do these things? Because I didn't want to be difficult. I kept hearing scary stories about authors getting their deals cancelled over little things like attitude, I wanted to be published more than I wanted to be heard all the time. In other words, I wanted them to like me. And now I feel a bit dirty.

I think I'll post another picture of Freddie in case you feel that way too.

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It's all over now and I'm happy that it is. I am still very grateful for everyone and everything that allows my book to be on the shelves at all. Mostly I am frustrated that I lacked the courage of my convictions and regret that I did not try much harder to find a compromise I could be excited about. I am very proud of A Reluctant Cinderella, I just wish she was wearing something that didn't give a false impression of who she was really is.