I noticed amid all of my activity that I was losing the attention of the people at Random House. My editor had been sympathetic and accommodating early on, but past a certain point responses to my emails slowed until eventually I was informed by her assistant that my editor’s email was malfunctioning and that it might be weeks before it was working again.
When the last batch of alternative covers produced by my personal designers failed to elicit a warm response from Random House, and when a last anecdote I’d hoped to add to my manuscript was refused because it was late (in part because of my preoccupation with the cover), I went on strike. I quit answering emails from my editor’s production staff and announced that I was no longer in a mood to promote the book upon publication.
A few days went by.
My agent called: “Are you an idiot?”
My daughter picked up my favourite of the alternative covers I’d commissioned: “Is this the atrocity?”
My assistant said, “I bet they hate you at Random House, but I guess you’re used to that.”
Eventually my editor sent me a curt email saying that we were due at the press and that she was unilaterally approving the version of the cover produced by her art department. I think she mentioned that she liked it, and that everyone else in her offices liked it. She didn’t invite a response.
Foiled, chastened, I returned to my endnotes and resolved from that point forward to do with professionalism and good cheer everything asked of me by my editor, and I’m proud to say that some days I did.
Eventually the printed book landed on my desk. From time to time, people would come into my office and notice it. An embarrassing number of them have told me that they like the cover.
(Certain details of this story have been altered to protect the reputation of the author.)
Pages: 1 2















Pingback: The End of the period. That’s where the debate begins. « MACLEAN’S for DUMMIES