Today I'm taking the train down to Chelsea and walking far west over to 11th Avenue to attend a model casting for the jacket of an upcoming novel I've edited. It's the first time I've ever been to one of these, because we don't hold them for every book.
Everyone keeps saying "How exciting!" and I AM excited but I'm also sort of nervous. I think I'm just worried that the designers will pick one girl and I'll think she's wrong and then I'll have to speak up. There's nothing in the world that makes me queasier than the prospecting of an impending conflict. Of course, nine times out of ten these conflicts are solely in my head.
It's probably a result of the overarching nervousness I feel about this jacket in general. A book cover is so incredibly important--to say it can make or break a book is such an understatement. So far I'm thrilled with the photographer they've hired and the concept they've come up with, so there's no call for me to worry about the model selection, the dress selection, the pose, the palette, the title type...but, of course, it's me, so I do anyway.
I'm a little superstitious. Most everything about this book has been charmed so far, so I ought to relax. But I've always felt that if I stopped worrying about something that THAT's when the hammer falls.
If I can worry about this book up until it's on the NYTimes bestseller list, I'll have done my job well.
Update: The casting was actually really fun, although sort of anticlimactic. Turns out there is a real shortage of redheaded models, who knew! But it was fun seeing inside the fashion world, and talking to the photographer and the stylist, and seeing the girls (the photographer was also casting for a perfume commercial at the same time). Models are really pretty, but not as tall as I was expecting. Most of them wore platform shoes, too. Maybe I can get platform shoes after all? Hmm.