Cover story.

Problems are born here.

Choosing a cover for a reprint of a novel should be jolly, good fun.

It’s not.

I’ve trod these waters before and nearly drowned in them. Decisions of image, script, title placement, font color and size, all congeal into a tentacled creature of the deep with a mighty chip on its squiddy shoulder…

Squiddy?

Good grief.

My mind’s already burping up brine and I haven’t even picked the stupid book to cover.

Everybody out of the water. This is going to get ugly.

Until Monday (travel day tomorrow)…

Chloe