When this came across my Twitter feed tonight, I moved through a range of reactions and ended up 1) incredulous that any designer worth a damn would waste time and energy being insulted by an author who designs a book cover; 2) reasonably confident that the fraction of good designers who would waste time taking umbrage should be about the same as the fraction of good lawyers who are insulted when a defendant opts to serve as his own attorney; 3) glad that I’m in the process of refining my own hack designs for Void Where Prohibited, the novel that I keep threatening to self-publish.
Maybe I’m wrong about points 1 and 2. Maybe designers are so racked by self-doubt that they actually are insulted when an amateur takes a stab at doing what they do. That would be sad. I mean that. It is hard to imagine a person producing top work from such a guarded, aggrieved stance.
I will now invoke someone, who I do not know, to make a point not supported by evidence. I appeal instead to your common sense as you watch Chip Kidd in the video immediately below this paragraph. Ask yourself if the “supreme genius of dust jacket design” in this video seems like someone who would waste a moment of his life lamenting an author’s lunatic decision to refuse his design services in favor of something DIY.
I’m struck by something Kidd says in the video: “The author fills my head up with their manuscript. Then I react. … (It’s) not really up to me to come up with the ideas. That’s what the author does.”
Now, Kidd is understating his role. There’s no straight line that would take any old designer from Ondaatje’s manuscript for The English Patient to the book cover that permanently locked the name Chip Kidd inside the part of my brain that stores things I admire. Even so, Kidd’s basic point — that the “author fills my head up with their manuscript” — suggests why it’s not inconceivable that an author might be able to put together a decent cover. For the author’s own book.
I can’t stress that enough. For the author’s own book!
If I manage to put together something decent for Void Where Prohibited, it will not mean that I am ready to step into the shoes of a book designer. If anything, trying on the shoes of a book designer leaves me more impressed by what these people are able to do.
Every step of this hack enterprise of mine has been challenging: brainstorming a concept; planning out how I would transform one fleeting visual moment from my novel into a compelling photograph; trying to locate the right model (right age, right feet, right legs, artistic sensibility, willingness to improvise, experiment, and offer suggestions); finding a location with suitable carpeting; drawing on my photographic experience to make the shoot itself efficient and fruitful; knowing when to stop shooting; selecting the photos that would work best with text; figuring out a cheapskate way to combine photos with text; experimenting with designs; narrowing down the designs to a few favorites; figuring out who among my friends might offer the most useful, informed feedback on those favorites. My next step, which will not be the last, will involve revising the designs based on my friends’ reactions.
That was a long list and I thank you for reading through it. Because my point — made above through sheer quantity of words — is that designing a book cover is extraordinarily difficult. It’s astonishing that there are people in this world who can do it on demand, on deadline, and with such flair.
But my awareness of all this exists because I’m trying to design my own cover — an inherently insulting act, it seems.
To anyone who’s insulted, I urge you not to be. Laugh me off. Shrug. Whatever. Have faith in what you do. Rise up out of your guarded, aggrieved crouch.
Stand up.
Stretch.
Amaze yourself.
Amaze us.
—————————————
—————————————
Possible Covers from David Quigg on Vimeo.
