In order to keep myself going through the constant editing process, I have to factor in little rewards. Often they are chocolate-based, but editing is taking so long that I’ll be the size of a house if I’m not careful, so I have to look out for other treats. And yesterday I decided that the time had come to choose My Template.
One of the perils of self-publishing is that you can end up with a book that looks like something stapled together by Miss Plumb’s reception class [insert name of your own primary school teacher to get the effect]. Thankfully there are plenty of services on offer to help you produce something that looks more professional, and might even pass muster alongside traditionally published books. (When I say “alongside”, I don’t mean on the bookshop shelf; sadly, getting physical bookshops to stock self-published books is nigh on impossible. No, I mean on the reader’s shelf.) You can go the whole whack, and hand over your novel scribbled in purple felt-tip in a motley selection of exercise books, and a lovely self-publishing guru will massage it into something lovely. Or you can do as I am doing, and buy a template into which I will drop my final text, applying styles as I go, so that it ends up looking like a “proper” book. It’s a control thing – I want to feel that it is MY book as much as possible.
Choosing the template took ages – printing sample pages, imagining reading them, and asking myself questions like “would a policeman prefer this font?”. Anyway, it’s done: the template is selected and waiting, open-mouthed and empty, for my text. So there’s no excuse: back to the editing today.