Even editors need a book designer by Jason Black

Last month I wrote about the humbling experience of preparing a manuscript for printing, and how I will never, never do that again without planning ahead of time to hire a proper copy editor. Well, with all that finally cleaned up and behind me (thankfully), we launched the book last Friday at the PNWA summer writer’s conference, and the book is now officially live on Amazon! Huzzah!

I am, as I know many of you also know firsthand, delighted. But I want to talk about what else I learned in this whole process: the critical contribution a skilled book designer can make.

I am quite fortunate that my publisher, Nathan Everett, comes from a book design background and has a ton of experience in that area. Which is a good thing, because it wasn’t all that long ago that I didn’t even know there was such a thing as a book designer. I wouldn’t have known who or what to ask for on my own. (Which, hmm, is strangely similar to the situation I often encounter as a developmental editor with new writers being unaware that there is such a thing...)

So what did I learn?

Well, for starters, that although I consider myself a font geek, I don’t know jack compared to a professional. I’d have gone with something boring like Times New Roman. Nathan made font selections for the cover, chapter titling, and body text which are just spot on. They fit the historical character of the novel, while being visually attractive and highly readable. It would never have occurred to me that the body font should match the time period, but once I saw it I could tell he was absolutely right.

Next, some of the intricacies of front matter. That is, all those pages which come before the first page of the story. I knew a book needs a copyright page—I think we all know about that one—but what format should it take? What information does it need to have in it? Nathan took care of it. And what about all those other pages? What are they even called?

Well, there’s the bastard title. I have no idea why it’s called that. It’s just a blank page with the title on it, so that the reader can open the book to a page that’s not blank, but also isn’t boring junk like the copyright page.

 

 

 

 

 

After the bastard title, you get the first two-page spread. That, as it turns out, is where the map goes (my book has a map), and the full title page. Note the way the title page echoes the design on the cover, and the lovely running-horse device which visually grounds the title into a space, rather than leaving it floating in limbo. I’d never have thought to do that, but it’s brilliant. That same running-horse device carries through the book as the scene divider element as well, helping to unify the whole design.

 

Next comes the copyright page, which I won’t belabor except to say it has what it needs on it—the copyright statements and ISBN—facing the dedication page. For an ordinary book like this one (that is, not a super-lavish hardcover production), the dedication page also serves as the signature page. That’s why the dedication is placed high up, to leave the author plenty of room to sign the thing.

 

 

Then a blank page facing, at last, chapter 1. Notice the chapter head illustration. Again, it would never have occurred to me to put an illustration there—what can I say? I’m much more a verbal person than a visual person—but it’s a great design element. The content of the illustration Nathan found perfectly matches the content of the chapter, and the woodcut style perfectly matches the time period of the story. Just lovely, and beats the pants off a simple text “Chapter 1” that I’d have stuck in there if it were up to me. The drop-cap on the opening paragraph is also a nice touch that really helps make the result look professional.

But probably most important—and least acknowledged of all—is the proper typesetting of the body text. I used to think you just clicked that “justify” button in MS-Word. But no. Computers, for all their utility, still need some help from an experienced human eye to do elegant typesetting. I know Nathan did a considerable amount of work tweaking the typography to avoid “rivers” of whitespace, awkward page breaks, widow and orphan lines of text, and all that stuff. I don’t know how long it took him to learn how to do that, but the results really look great. (Nathan's years of experience are available on a freelance basis, by the way. Forgive the shameless plug, but it's the least I can do for his beautiful work.)

Oh, and for books that have a ridiculous amount of front matter (i.e. an introduction, preface, acknowledgments page, table of contents, etc...), there can also be a “half title” spread right before the story. That’s a blank page on the left, plus another bastard title page on the right, except that for some reason it’s called a half title in this context. Or something. It’s all arcane book designer jargon I don’t quite understand. My book doesn’t have that, but it’s still good to know about it.

All in all, after going through this process I feel much more educated as to how to put together a proper book. If I were self-publishing it, I’d almost feel like I had a fighting chance. Almost. When I step back and look more realistically, I know that’s a lie. There’s no way I’ll ever be half the book designer as somebody who has been doing this for decades. I just don’t have the eye for it, and honestly, I’d rather spend my time working on new stories than learning book design. So, right along with swearing up and down that I will never go without a proper copy editor again, add a pledge that I’ll never go without the services of a professional book designer, either.