Welcome to my Journal series, “My Journey to Publication” for my debut memoir, “Sober Mom.” You can read Part I here. Let’s call this next entry Part IIa, as it represents just one segment of the editorial calendar I plan to share in this series. I’m dragging you all along on my publication journey, whether you want to come or not!

The Assignment

After I signed my publishing contract with She Writes Press in February, one of my first tasks was to complete a cover design memo. The memo’s purpose is to offer inspiration and direction to the graphic designer who will create the cover.

The memo requested basic book information (title, subtitle, author name as it should appear), a short “elevator pitch” description, a longer synopsis, location/time period where the book takes place, a list of characters, key themes, emotional mood, inspiration for writing the book, and more! It also asked for book covers I admired.

The direction from my publisher was:

A thorough cover memo lays the foundation for a collaborative design process that yields a cover capable of competing with traditionally published books. Take time to thoughtfully complete each section—your design team relies on this information to do their best work.

Here’s what I thought:

I don’t judge a book by its cover. I choose new books based on recommendations from friends, popular book lists, or whether it’s on “The New York Times” Best Sellers list. I mostly listen to books, so I never really notice the cover. I’m not picky about covers.

Still, I was excited to complete the cover design memo because I knew that having a cover was the first step to a printed publication. This book, which had only lived in my brain and then on my laptop, would eventually become an actual object that people could hold in their hands, throw in their purse to read on the train, or hand off to a friend, saying, “You should read this.” A cover would make my memoir real.

And I had fun completing the cover design memo. In a saved Word document, I typed out my answers to questions about my target audience and the mood of my memoir. Then, I cruised around Amazon, looking at the covers of recently published memoirs. Anything that resonated with me, I added as a screenshot into the Word document as directed.

I completed the cover design memo in about 30 minutes. Let’s consider for a moment that it took me about eight years to write the book, but I spent only 30 minutes answering questions about the thing that would make the book feel most real. Can you see what I did wrong?

When I finished, I patted myself on the back for not hemming and hawing over my answers. In my email to my project manager with my completed memo attached, I wrote, “I don’t have strong feelings about what the cover should look like.”

I sent that completed cover memo in April. In May, I followed up: “Did you receive my completed cover memo?” Yup, she did. In June, I emailed my Summer 2026 cohorts, the other writers getting published in my season: “Has anyone gotten their cover designs yet?” Nope, no one had. My book felt like it was living in limbo. Finally, on July 15, I received the email I had been waiting for.

The Big Reveal

The graphic designer created 12 cover designs! I was only expecting three or four. In her email, my publisher, Brooke Warner, noted, “I’m not particularly interested in knowing about the things you don’t like about a given cover or direction as much as I am about what you do like.” Interestingly enough, this is the same feedback policy we embrace in book inc’s programs! 

Ok, I got this! At first, I was excited—Oooohhhh, I like this one. And this one! Seeing my title and concepts brought to life in color through graphic art was thrilling. However, I then considered each one more carefully, and my excitement waned.

I immediately rejected the first design—a bottle of alcohol. I knew one of the options would be something alcohol-related. How could it not be? Other quit lit memoirs, such as Drinking: A Love Story by Caroline Knapp and Nothing Good Can Come From This by Kristi Coulter, feature alcohol on their covers. But I didn’t want to promote the thing that almost ruined my life. My reader friend/consultant, Kelly, said it best when she said, “That cover offends me.” 

I scrolled through more images and saw several featured daffodils. We like daffodils in our family, but I couldn’t think of a single scene in my memoir that mentions that flower. Why had the designer used daffodils in five cover options? I had to go back to my cover memo to check. There it was: I had suggested “daffodils blooming in spring (symbolizing hope and renewal).” I mean, sure? But a daffodil cover didn’t feel right for a memoir about my life imploding due to alcohol.

I liked one illustration of a house, but it felt like a beach read, which my memoir definitely was not. There were a couple of designs featuring a chair symbolizing recovery meetings, but I got stuck on the fact that the image wasn’t an aluminum folding chair like most meetings actually had.

None of the 12 cover designs felt right.

So I responded to my publisher, trying very hard to follow her guidance by focusing on what I did like while offering a few suggestions. When I received an email the next day asking to discuss my response, I felt like I’d done something wrong. As a newbie to this publishing process, I’ve been studying my publishing handbook repeatedly to ensure I follow proper procedures. But this prompt response meant something was up.

“Sinister Sells”: A Publishing Reality Check

I met via Zoom with my publisher, Brooke, and my project manager, Megan. Brooke explained that she thought the designer had hit it out of the park with the designs. She also shared that based on her years of publishing experience, she knows “sinister sells”—meaning that while everyone knows my memoir has a happy ending, that’s not what’s going to get people to buy the book. Readers want to know the dirt: the times I showed up at the pediatrician drunk or the marital indiscretions that led to my life imploding.

I understood the logic, but I still didn’t want a bottle of alcohol on my cover. We talked some more, and I agreed to reconsider the designs. “Take the weekend,” she suggested.  

The Team Decision: Trusting the Collaborative Process

That weekend, my family and I went away to Vermont. We needed to charge our car in Manchester, which gave me the perfect excuse to visit my favorite VT bookstore, Northshire Bookstore. I immediately went to the nonfiction section and stared at its shelves, trying to imagine my book there and considering which of the 12 options would be the best fit.

I called my husband and daughter over. “Look at this section. Which of these covers can you imagine fitting here?” We all agreed on the same design.

I consulted with Kelly, showing her the one I was considering. She confirmed, “I’d pick up that book and flip it over to read the back.” 

While I was having my bookstore revelation, my publisher was consulting her team—the sales rep, the Barnes & Noble reps, and industry professionals. When Brooke sent me the team’s decision, her message confirmed what we’d discovered in Vermont: “What we’re seeing in this design—the idea of the journey from drinking to sobriety—is ‘smart’ according to the team, and it looks great as a thumbnail. … It feels like the one that’s most modern and that’s effectively conveying a message.”

The winning design was understated. No bottles, no obvious recovery symbols, just the suggestion of a journey and transformation. Here it is!  

So what did I learn? I learned to trust the collaborative process. It took all of us—a designer, my publisher, her sales team, and my friend Kelly—to arrive at the best choice. Most importantly, I learned that when it was my own book, I would judge it by its cover. The cover wouldn’t just represent my story; it would be the first impression, the invitation for readers to pick up eight years of my life and give it a chance. That deserved more than 30 minutes of thought, and I’m grateful for the team that helped me get it right.