Sketches: Little Elf

Sadly, none of the covers in is post will likely see print (though who knows, if the opportunity comes up, I hope to be able to use one of the concepts again). I say "sadly" not because my work on this won't be used — woe is me. — but because when I put a great deal of time and effort into a project, I feel as though I take part ownership (if only a very, very small part), and I want to see it have the very best chance at success. That time-worn adage about a book's cover, there may be some small truth to it -- but it's the cover that, more often than not, intrigues you enough to take the opportunity to judge the book.

In an era where most books are sold via a web browser, and the most you'll see of them before you open the box is a small image of the cover, that cover carries an enormous weight — even more so, I think, than the days when you were able to page through a book to get a general sense of it. And when you have a paperback book that's going to retail for $50 (!), even if it is almost 700 pages, I think that burden becomes even greater.

I say "sadly," because I think if you could see the cover that will be used, who knows, you might be inclined to agree that it falls short in that very basic function. Granted, design can be very subjective, and it's just about a given that not everyone will agree, but the publisher and I pushed for something better — not because we're sure we know better, only because we both wanted the best possible package for this product.

I don't want to get stuck on the politics of all this (and I wouldn't feel entirely comfortable getting into even constructive criticism of someone else's work here), but I did want to make the point (because it came up in the discussions) that none of this was about "ego." I'm proud of my work, of course, but humble enough to know I'm often just as fortunate to have all the pieces come together, as I am skilled. (And they often don't come together without a great deal of trial and error.)

These sketches were put together as an alternative to another cover design, so I was approaching this project with, I guess, somewhat more restrained goals. I felt it might be best to keep the design simple, and the structure reasonably similar to what had already been suggested. But I wanted to make the type more legible and better-thought-out, while still keeping with the era of the book's subject.
I used Cooper Black (hey look, it has it's own Wikipedia page!), which I had also selected for the interior design pages, because it reads well, it's of the era, and it's easy to tinker with to give it a slightly more uneven, hand-drawn quality. (Similar hand-drawn lettering was used on many posters and trade ads in the book. Beautiful stuff.) The other cover had used type that was a shorthand, almost a cliché of type use of the 1920s, and I felt this was among the weakest aspects of the design.

Granted, not everyone would recognize that, because a cliché only becomes a cliché only after people rely on it so much you begin to see it everywhere — but still, I wanted to try for something better. (Type is an acquired skill.)

I did those "safe" versions (with a variation, based on the gold colors used in the original design), and what I referred to as a "far-fetched" version. It was a concept that almost didn't make it past the sketch stage, but I was intrigued by the idea, and wanted to see if I could make it work. I took the opportunity to be a bit more playful with the title, and especially that photo — I like how it draws your attention right to those eyes, that face. I was hesitant because I was afraid this might be too much of an unusual approach for the subject matter, and for the type of reader likely to be interested in a book like this. But hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

(Honestly, it's difficult to imagine another opportunity for me to use this concept — it'd have to be just the right combination of title, image, and subject matter. But at least I can still use it here.)

Sketches: The Hollywood Canteen

Sometimes, you have what you think could be a good idea, but it takes more effort than you expected to get to “there.”


I did a few sketchier-than-usual sketches for this book on my iPad. I have a stylus, and I like it a lot, as styluses (styli?) go, but I still miss the control and precision I get with pen and paper (even with a big ol’ Sharpie marker). This point in the process is (or should be) one of discovery, of taking ideas out of my head and putting them into a form that I can follow through on — but I felt like the lack of control in what I was drawing was a big, big distraction. Maybe I should loosen up and learn to embrace that. I dunno, maybe I will.

Had a thought about using the title as a sort of “dividing” element between two photos, but gave up on that when I found the perfect photo. Or, almost the perfect photo. There was another, of a short dumpling of a man in uniform with a comical expression of delight on his face, in a slow dance with a beautiful woman who was at least a foot taller than he was. (Her hair was swept up, it was difficult to be sure.) And you probably wouldn’t have recognized the actress.

No mistaking pin-up girl Rita Hayworth, though, on a crowded dance floor filled with servicemen. There couldn’t have been a better cover photo for this book.

As you can see from the sketches, I had wanted to put the subhed between the two parts of the title, to use that space better. (There’s always the concern that it will be read as “Title-Subhed-Title” instead of “Title-Subhed,” but it can work, and anyway, I wanted to try it.) That turned out to be much more difficult that I had anticipated, trying to balance the way everything fit together with the size of the elements — I didn’t want the book title to be too big, but I didn’t want the subhed to be too small — et cetera, et cetera. So much so that I just gave up on the idea at first.



(I tried a variation on that photo tinted dark blue, too, but the highlights on Rita Hayworth were so bright that the contrast made them look too hard.)

But I got kinda stubborn, and when I came back to this, I decided, y’know, there ought to be a way to make this work. And that took a few further adjustments (there’s another version of this version that had the subhed overlap the word “Hollywood” differently, but that didn’t seem as legible), but I think I finally have everything sorted out. Except for the back cover, which isn’t finished yet.

Different

"I noticed something is different about the Aspire kids."

That's a specialized program in our school district for children on the Autism spectrum. My son started Kindergarten as part of Aspire, but by First Grade he was spending more and more of his day in a mainstream class — with an aide, at first — an arrangement that continues for his peers that continue to be part of that program. (He's now in Fourth Grade, in a mainstream class, without an aide, and will probably be officially "declassified" as a Special Ed student after this year.)

We explained that they're part of that program because of Autism. We tried — and failed, I think — to give him a good sense of what that means, but we were both taken by surprise by the comment, and it was all we could manage to stumble through an explanation that Autism could be so many different kinds of behaviors in different people -- like the different friends he knows. But mostly, I told him, that just means your brain works a bit differently.

I'm not sure if he understands that he was part of the Aspire program. That's how he knows these kids so well, of course, and a few of them have continued to be his friends, but I don't know if he was aware that he was part of a separate program — as far as he was concerned, it was just "school."

And I'm not sure if he understands that he is Autistic. His peers in the Aspire program are so very different from him (he has been the only student from his class to effectively leave the program), and he hasn't yet made the connection.

We didn't tell him, though perhaps an opportunity presented itself here. Should we have? I honestly don't know. I think I'd like for him to put these pieces together for himself, so we can talk about this when he's ready.

My son is becoming increasingly aware of himself. It's exciting and wonderful, but in that way that can leave you completely unsettled as you think back upon your own difficult adolescence.