Someone called my book cover generic. Here’s why I’m okay with that.

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I’m a chronic nonconformist. The worst insult someone could have given me growing up was that I was just like everybody else. (Let’s face it—that’s still the most stinging statement to receive in my adult life.) I loved rubrics in school because they told me exactly how far I could bend the rules while still getting credit.

Maybe it’s an entrepreneurial spirit within me that always wants to do what others won’t. And that creativity has served me well over the years. But there’s a downside to resisting conformity—when someone tells me I should do something, even if it’s the best practice, my gut reaction is to do the opposite. (And I wonder where my kids get it from…)

In the writing and publishing world, there are plenty of absolutes offered by “experts” in the field—always title your book in X way, never do THIS in your dialogue, etc. Part of the challenge and fun of writing is discovering what advice is sound and what’s bogus.

And as someone who likes to buck trends, I’m all about trailblazing. But a recent comment in an author group stopped me in my tracks and caused me to rethink some of my lone wolf tendencies.

“Other than the lily, I think this book cover is very generic.”

She was talking about my book cover. Of course, I ran to the dictionary. Merriam-Webster says generic means “relating to or characteristic of a whole group or class.”

Hm.

At first, my feathers were ruffled. But once the initial reaction faded, I saw the beauty within that flippant comment. 

Because here’s a (not so) secret fact about people—we’re creatures of habit. And even the most adventurous among us are hesitant to leave behind what we know. Though I’m no expert, I suspect this is why many independently published books fail to draw a large readerbase.

I can hear the question now—is it so bad to be different? Of course not, but when it comes to book covers, yes. Based on my own experience as a reader, here’s why I think so.

Return to the Familiar

I’ve been a reader nearly all my life. My first love was fantasy, sparked by the cover image of C.S. Lewis’ The Last Battle featuring a white unicorn in a golden field. As soon as I learned to read, I skipped over the primers and leveled readers and dove straight into Narnia. That introduction opened up a world of discovery and excitement, and all I needed was a book.

After that, my appetite for literature was insatiable. I was the kid at the public library checking out 15 books at a time and returning the next week for more. While I read a variety of genres, my favorites were giant tomes with weapons, magical creatures, or mysterious landscapes on the front. I didn’t need to read the back of the book. I picked based on the cover.

Though my taste has broadened over the years, I look back on my motivations as a young reader and wonder if I should return to that method of selection.

Because there’s something about a beautiful cover that makes a book irresistible. And while the story doesn’t always deliver, there’s a certain joy in returning to the artwork every time I sit down to read. (This is one reason I’ll always prefer physical books to e-readers, though I use both.)

All those books I read as a kid promised me something—a fantasy adventure filled with magic and excitement. And I rarely left disappointed because what I saw was what I got. 

Today’s readers aren’t so different. They have certain expectations upon picking up a book, and if their expectations aren’t met, they feel cheated. 

But that’s assuming they read the book at all. When faced with a buying decision, a reader typically drifts toward the familiar. Something too different from what they’re used to, or something that sends the wrong message, and they’ll move right along. (If you’re in the mood for a burger, you won’t even consider the takeout place down the road, no matter how good it is.)

Acceptable Conformity

This is where acceptable conformity comes in. As much as I hate to be lumped in with “the whole group,” where my book cover is concerned, generic is a win. But generic doesn’t have to mean low-quality. Read—I’m not advocating for AI book covers! Far from it. Of course I still want excellent design and exquisite artwork. But those elements must be used within a framework the readers already understand. This is where intentional use of familiar aspects is crucial.

My young adult fantasy book involves lots of flowers. (Think less gardening, more secret code.) But guess what? There’s a war going on, too. More than one combat sequence falls within the pages of Lily’s Passage. And you know what things happen to be hot symbols on a huge number of YA fantasy covers these days? Weapons and flowers.

Case in point.

So, my book cover is “generic.” That’s not so bad, assuming it turns a casual browser into a loyal reader. Is it perfect? Of course not—there are some elements that will change in the final draft. But what I am certain of is that my cover makes a promise to my readers—bloomcore acolyte or warrior aspirant, both are welcome here. Not everyone will resonate with that promise, but those who do will feel right at home.

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Curious about that generic cover? Here it is!

Let me know what you think! Become a Lore Keeper and be the first to know when the *official* cover drops later this month.

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