I've mentioned a few times how the concepts of
Personal Branding and its subset, Author Branding make me
shudder and squirm, which may seem odd for someone with a background in marketing who is running a (slightly bedraggled) literary career on the side.
Looking back at those posts, I found a phrase that turned the shuddering up to full-blown convulsions: "curating and sharing a version of yourself." What the heck is that supposed to mean? Was Ernest Hemingway occupied with "curating and sharing" a version of himself once he'd spent precious hours and dollars with some snake-oil salesman intent on "discovering his personal brand"?
I'm in the throes of launching a third book, and I rather proudly posted the photo above. A social media acquaintance praised the "great branding" and the comment made me wonder - how did that happen?
I certainly didn't spend any hours or dollars with snake-oil salesmen. Neither did I run off to construct a key, or an onion, or a pyramid, or trawl the thesaurus to find 3 or 4 adjectives to reflect the essence of my brand.
But I did realise that, unlike the narcissistic generation that fall prey to the marketing gobbledegook, I hadn't created an author brand, I'd created a book series brand.
This wasn't a Powerpoint boxes-and-arrows process. The brand had evolved organically and intuitively.
It had started with the story, and from the story, the cover. What kind of image and design could reflect what this book was about:
A Boy's Own Adventure for the 21st century boy - or girl. I briefed the publisher with this picture, amongst others:
That went some of the way, but together we decided that the book shouldn't merely look retro, it should look and feel "found," as if a youngster from today had discovered it in an attic, or an old toy-box. We were lucky to have a super illustration, a composite of some of the elements of the story - a ferocious tiger, a Sunderland Flying Boat, and the young hero with his RAF officer "Grandpop" peering through some jungle vegetation. The first goes at design took the route of comics - bright colours and power-packed typefaces.
But, we hummed and hah-ed. It looked action-packed, and retro, but maybe too reminiscent of
Commando Comics. And they were great but unashamedly trashy. Would people - especially young readers - get the irony?
I went to a different designer who tried a different approach - to get the "found book" feel in the cover design, with muted, slightly yellowing tones, and less in-your-face graphics. The publisher was inspired - and chose paper quality and colour, as well as the matt cover finish to complement the design.
When it came to the
second book, a pattern was set - the illustrator had two characters, an aeroplane, a beast (which would also appear on the spine) and action to play with, in a very different setting. The strap line came almost as an afterthought - I stuck with "The past is a dangerous country" because I couldn't think of anything better. And it was growing on me.
With the
latest book, things could have gone pear-shaped. My publisher didn't have the time or resource at that point to see it through, and the original illustrator was no longer available. But we had built up enough "branding" by now for the designer and I to understand what was needed. The illustration is of a slightly different style, but this reflects the focus on older readers and a more complex narrative structure as the series evolves. The consistency in the two characters in action, the creature and the aeroplane remains.
What's interesting is that it was only with the third book that I realised I had a brand. And it wasn't just to do with the stories themselves, or the alliterative titles, or the "found book" design and style. I had a strap line that summed the whole thing up: "The past is a dangerous country."
If we must talk about brand essence, then that strap line is it.
My next blog will be about creating an "analogue website." Keep your wireless tuned.
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