Publishing
A blurb has a narrow job. It should sell the mood, the promise, and the central conflict without sounding like it was written by someone being chased with a timer.
Too much plot and it starts to look nervous. Too little and it feels vague, like the book is hiding behind its own jacket copy. The awkward middle is where most of them live.
I’m always interested in whether a description makes me want to read the book, not just understand it. Those are not the same thing.
Too much plot and it starts to look nervous. Too little and it feels vague, like the book is hiding behind its own jacket copy. The awkward middle is where most of them live.
I’m always interested in whether a description makes me want to read the book, not just understand it. Those are not the same thing.
The trouble is that a lot of blurbs try to do the work of a synopsis and a mood piece at the same time, and end up doing neither properly. I’d rather have one clean line of conflict than three paragraphs of fog.
If I can’t tell what kind of trouble the book is interested in, I’m out. Not because I need every turn of the screw, but because the book should at least know what it’s selling.
If I can’t tell what kind of trouble the book is interested in, I’m out. Not because I need every turn of the screw, but because the book should at least know what it’s selling.