There is nothing quite like seeing the cover of your book for the first time. It’s nothing at all like seeing your child for the first time because with a child you have some idea what you are going to get. There is no looking in the mirror or at your spouse and making an educated guess. With a book cover you are utterly clueless. Your words are turned into an image by a cover designer you have likely never met. It is their job to capture the essence of what you have written, to tell a visual story based on your actual story. The whole thing is a wonderful, baffling experience for me. Wonderful because the anticipation is delicious. Baffling because I could no sooner create a book cover than a stained glass window. The only art I’m capable of making is that which you find on the page. I am a one trick pony. I can’t even write poetry much less sing, dance, or paint.
That said, I am besotted with the cover for my new novel. It is perfect. And I think it perfectly captures the mystery found within its pages. Friends, I give you, officially, the cover for I WAS ANASTASIA: