I used to think I could do it all…
I was doing dishes some days ago and stacked the dirty ones next to the sink. On the top, placed much more precariously than I intended, was a heavy glass 9×13 pan. It teetered and I reached for it, but missed. Did I mention I’m a klutz? It fell to the open dishwasher, which does not work at the moment, and managed to chip not one, not two, but four plates and broke one clean in half. When I do things, I do them spectacularly.
The same goes with my writing. I write. As much as I think it would be fun to design covers and I know it is great fun to edit, my calling is writing. It’s what I do. When I spend time (translation: waste time) pouring over what element of a cover should go where, which font to use, what color best accentuates the title and author…I’m not using my particular talents and I’m robbing someone else the use of theirs.
No one else can topple a stack of dishes quite like me, as no one writes just like me. The one cover that I gave the most direction on is my worst cover and the sales of that book show it. I’ll eventually recover it or rather, I’ll buy one or have my talented husband do it. Until then, every time I do the dishes and look at those chipped plates I see a constant reminder that though I am an Indie and I can do all of it, it doesn’t necessarily mean I should.
Some authors make excellent covers, they are beautiful works of art. Perhaps someday I could do that too, but I don’t think I want to. I’ve finally found two editors that work with me really well, a cover designer who knows me so well she can easily fill my heart with elation and I rarely need much changed beyond her first draft. I just don’t want to mess with that. If I do, I might end up with 4 chipped plates and one broken clean in half.