Novel Cover Attempts

 

Okay, so this is my latest attempt for the cover of book one. I purchased the background photo and  the photo of the men off dreamstime. The girl posing in the foreground is my friend, Adrienne. And I purchased the font off of some site that I can't remember the name of, but I still have the receipt, so it's cool. Everything is legally legit.

 

Every book in the series is going to have a color motif. I figured that it would help my books stick out more since people are naturally attracted to bright colors.

 

So, what do you think? Is it too dark? To hard to see? Be brutally honest. I can handle it. I'll be pissed if you aren't.

 

 

Here's the cover for book two (or possibly book three since it's likely I'll be splitting the second book, which is peaking at around 180,000 words, into two books). I bought the background and the tiny eagle off dreamstime. I used the same font. And the hand belongs to the same friend posing in the first picture. She literally washed her hands in dirt before we took this picture and let me paint fake blood on her knuckles. Unfortunately, it's not as noticeable in the cover after being manipulated and softened. That's the one thing I was truly disappointed with after finishing. I wanted more blood and grime.

 

What do you think? Too bright? Too in-your-face? This is probably my favorite of the two covers because I'm a sucker for the color orange.

 

 

 

This may or may not be the cover for the second book. It all depends on whether I split book two into two books or not. It's not completely done either. The end product would hopefully have two people walking off the left hand side of the page. So it would actually look something like this:

 

 

Okay, maybe not exactly like this, but you get the idea. I'm also not sure why it looks a little fuzzy on here. I probably didn't save it to the correct specifications for the web or something... It's always an ongoing battle.

 

It's also interesting to note that I made these using Photoshop.... elements. Yup, that's right. I used one of the most basic photoshops you can get your hands on. I spent two weeks watching video tutorials on how to use the program and then spent another week messing around with the different features until my wrist hurt. I wish I could get Photoshop CS3, but I just can't afford it. That being said, if I can't afford CS3 then I can't afford to pay an artist to do my cover. I'm going to have to do the best with what I've got.

 

So please let me know what you think--the good, the bad and the ugly.

Oh, and here's a little something to make you smile. I originally used putty on Adrienne's knuckles so as too make actual cuts on them, but as you can see, it just ended up making her hand look like something out of a zombie movie. Note to self: You are not a make-up artist.

I Just Don't Get You

Sometimes, well, a lot of the time actually, I feel like I can't really relate to people. And it's more than just feeling like I'm not on the same frequency as everyone else. It's like I'm not even in the same dimension. I just don't get people. I think I used to, but it slipped away as I grew up.

For example: I don't care if dandelions grow in my yard. I'm not going to spray for them or pull them out or anything. Who would spend time worrying about a freaking dandelion? Uuummm, oh yea. Everyone.

I also don't pick up my dog's poop or care where he poops. In fact, you can bring your pets over and have them poop in my yard too. You can even pretend like you didn't notice and then walk away without cleaning it up. I don't care. Who would waste their time caring or getting angry about stuff like that? I don't understand. It's poop! Who cares?

I also have a neighbor whose grass is over a foot tall--no joke. Some lady stopped at our house when we were having a garage sale and told us to call the town on him. I told her that he was a nice guy and that if she didn't like the way his yard looked that maybe she should stop looking at it. I then very politely asked her to take a hike.

When we have people over for dinner, we leave the dirty dishes in the sink... dirty! We don't rush to throw them in the dish washer or wash them in the sink like everyone else I know. We just leave them for the next morning so that we can spend time with everyone. Why would you want to waste time cleaning the dishes when you have something ten times better you could be doing? It's beyond my comprehension.

Every time a a germaphobe comes through my line at work, I want to full on lick my nasty dirty hand in front of them and then use it to give them their change. (It's just a fantasy. I've never actually done this. I'd probably get fired or in the least written up; especially because I know a few of them would actually start crying.) I know it's not something that all of them have control over, but--ugh--what is the point of being afraid of the world!!??

This is me. This is the type of person I am. It's just hard for me to understand. Who's going to be lying on their death bed fifty years from now and think to themselves, Wow, I lived a great life. I had the best manicured lawn in town back in the day and I'm really glad I screamed at my neighbor when her dog crapped in my yard. I just wish that I hadn't worn the skin off my hands from all of the sanitizer I used so that I could do one last load of dishes?

Am I the only one who feels this way?

I was THAT kid...

You know how parents pull their cars over to the side of the road and tell their kids that if they don't behave they can get out of the car and walk? Well, I was the kid that actually got out of the car and started walking away. I was THAT kid.

And when my parents washed my mouth out with soap I'd swallow it and say, "Mmmm, that tastes good," even though I was holding back vomit. I was THAT kid.

When my parents spanked me, I'd say, "Oooh, that hurts. Is that as hard as you can hit?" even though I was fighting to hold back tears. I was THAT kid.

My parents never grounded me because it never would have worked. I would have laughed and walked out the door. I was THAT kid.

They couldn't even lock me in my room for a timeout because when I was four I stole the key to my room from my mom's dresser and never gave it back. (I still have it!) I was THAT kid.

I was never sent to bed without dinner unless my parents felt like waking up in the morning to a fridge completely emptied of cheese and baloney slices. I was THAT kid.

I never "threatened" to run away. I actually did it. I was THAT kid.

When I was in sixth grade a man pulled up in his car and offered to give my friend and I candy on our way to school if we got in his car (Yea, he really tried the old candy routine). I said, "Fuck you!" I was THAT kid.

And you know what? I'm still THAT kid. THAT kid that knew what she wanted. THAT kid that didn't tolerate empty threats or bullshit. THAT kid that stuck up for herself. THAT kid who watched her own back and took care of herself. And you know what? I wouldn't want it any other way.