Once upon a time, I wrote a story I thought want the most fantastic contemporary romance in the history of the publishing world. I mean, my mom said it was fantastic and I knew I had a great story so when I sold it to a new publisher, I couldn’t have been more excited.
“I’m going to be published! I’m an actual writer!” I thought as I completely disregarded the previous five years I’d written health and parenting articles for major publications.
This is fiction, a whole new world! (Cue music)
Then the part of writing they never can truly prepare yourself for occurred–the book cover. I’d heard stories of authors having absolutely no say when it came to their book covers. This shocked me. You mean to tell me you slave over a story for months, years and someone who’s never read your work designs…
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