Changing the Title of Your Book When Nothing Else Seems to Work

So, I was writing all summer with the intent to publish in September. I had a perfect title (which I'm not going to share because I may want to use it again). The book was supposed to be about a woman and a jerkface dog. Well, half-way through the manuscript, the dog semi-disappeared and the story became more about the woman, her aunt, and the guy who owned the dog. So, I changed the title again.

It was great. Or so I thought. I found three pictures for the cover (because I couldn't make up my mind which one I liked best), made mock-ups, and showed them to my friends. Twelve friends to be exact. It was a 3-way tie.

After discussing the situation ad nauseum with my very good friend, I decided the only other option I had was to change the title AGAIN. Because once I finished the manuscript, the new changes I had made to the cover copy didn't reflect the old title.

Of course, once I decided to change the title, I then had to search for more cover pictures. Because the old pictures didn't fit either. And luckily, I found one. While making the cover (yes, I know how to do that) I found that my fonts were all icky. Nothing looked right. So, I had to search for new fonts.

So, here we are with a new title and a new cover design. Now, I just have to go back in and edit the manuscript and I should be good.

Naturally, that all depends on what the Gang of 12 have to say about it. I sent them the new mock-up about 20 minutes ago. Let's see if they like it.

What do you think?

At forty-two, Abby Pryzbylowicz had everything she thought she ever wanted—nice apartment, nice car, nice life. A novelist by trade, she penned romance novels for the money, detective mysteries for fun, and the occasional piece of literary fiction to keep her name in the papers. A reclusive woman by choice, she only wanted to be left alone with her characters. However, when her cousin phoned and begged Abby to help with her mother she couldn’t say no. Abby loved Aunt Rose. Besides, it was only for the summer.

Upon her arrival to Rose MacLaren’s house, Abby found her aunt a ferocious hoarder, had frequent bouts of forgetfulness, and a penchant for choosing her clothing according to color rather than season. Conversations had to be pieced together to make sense. Convincing Rose not to drive proved to be a covert operation. But every Saturday night at eight o’clock, Rose parked herself in front of the television to watch a British comedy on PBS, just like any other little old lady on the block.

When Abby set out to help her aunt, she thought it would be simple enough. All she had to do was clean the house and get it ready to sell. Rose was moving in with her daughter in September. However, as family skeletons started falling out of the closet, Abby’s only confidant was the mechanic next door.

Dealing with him was another story.

Robynne Rand (c) 2017