Save the Cat: Book Jacket

According to Save the Cat author Blake Snyder, one of the four keys to writing a winning log-line (elevator pitch) for a screenplay is generating “a compelling mental picture that promises more.” Part of this step is visualizing the movie poster.

As novelists, we don’t need a poster (yet), but we do need a book jacket.

I’m totally getting WAY ahead of myself here, but in addition to Save the Cat, I  got two other very closely related messages in the past few days, so I’m pretty sure it’s a sign from the universe to design some cover art.

First, I was sent an article on The Point of the Paperback from my book-loving friend American Book Junkie. There are some really great looking books here, and I found that in almost every case I was more drawn to the hardcover than the paperback edition. Super fun article! If looking at book covers is your idea of eye candy, you really need to see it. I practically squealed.

Then Overthinking the “Movie Tie-In Edition” Book Cover Phenomenon showed up on the Misanthropology101 blog. A favorite book of mine, Cloud Atlas, which was turned into a “meh” movie, and I agree: the poster does not work as a book jacket.

To be honest, thinking about what the book cover will look like feels a bit like hanging a decorative shelf on an unpainted wall in a half-built house. But since I’m on break from writing this week to focus on reading, organizing notes, and getting the big picture perspective, why not have a bit of fun? It’s kind of exciting because it makes me think, “I’m really doing this!”

Punk has an awesome concept for it. He even drew up a picture. I like it so much I think it might actually be the winning look for my book. So I’ll keep it a secret for now. In lieu of sharing it, here are a few book jackets that have lured me in over the years. If it hadn’t been for the cover art, I may not have even read some of these:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yep, I had a sweet little helper choosing favorites today. Good thing, too— he added a splash of color to an otherwise bland looking selection. (I must be in a yellow frame of mind.)

How about you guys— how do you choose your covers? Do you even think about cover art at all while writing the story, or do you wait to hang decorative shelves until after the house is painted?

Save the Cat: chapter 1

SAVE THE CAT
Chapter 1
WHAT IS IT?

Blake Snyder has a knack for distilling what a screenplay needs into a cat-treat sized morsel that’s all protein and no filler. What he calls a log-line is basically the elevator pitch– you’ve got ONE line to say exactly what your story is. I’d like to be able to do this for my novel now, before it’s written, and I’ll absolutely have to when I get to the query letter stage.
Here’s what he says I’ll need:

Four must-haves for every screenplay’s log-line (one-line)

•Irony. Things are not what they seem. The dish is full of cat food but it’s turned upside down.
•Compelling mental picture that promises more. What is it about? There must be a core story.
•Consider audience and cost. Maybe not cost so much, because I can blow stuff up in my novel without actually having to foot the bill in real life, or on a movie set.
•Killer title that says what it is. Heck, yes! I’ve had a title picked out for a year. It was one of the first things that came to me when the story began to surface. (Uncle John says poo on titles yet, even though the book is nearly half written.) The title I’m working with is not thematic. It just says what it is. Double points: it’s ironic!

Ripley literally saves the cat in Alien.

Maybe you’re wondering what “saving the cat” is all about. I didn’t have a clue. It’s a scene early in a movie that shows the character in a positive light. Often the main guy is potentially unlikable, which is a good thing because he has lots of room to grow and become awesome, but it’s a bad thing if your audience hates him. The “Save the Cat” scene shows him doing something humane, which hopefully gets the audience, or in our case, our readers, to care about him.
For example, in Aladdin, we see the hero as a thief (bad guy) but then watch as he gives the stolen bread to a couple of poor hungry kids (good guy).

I’ve been mulling over Dufresne’s approach to novel writing in Is Life Like This?, contemplating why it hasn’t turned out to be a good fit for me. I think it comes down to two things:
1. Uncle John assumes you want to write a novel but have no idea what to write about. But I already had a well-formulated idea of the story I wanted to write (title and everything!) and had already “written” many of the scenes, if only in my mind.
2. His program involves following around a character to see what they will do. His assumption is that the story the character will tell me is better than the one I want to tell. This cannot work for a woman who is trying to become a person. I can’t work on my codependency issues– learning to value myself, speak up for myself, trust my own decision making process, have opinions– and then give control of my project over to a character that I created.

Dufresne’s fiction is great, but that doesn’t mean his way of writing novels is the only way. I have followed his program to the letter, but it hasn’t improved my story. It’s turned a tight 17 beat plan into a 67 beat monstrosity. Kind of like driving from Detroit to New York by way of Kentucky’s back roads.
His program has also been invaluable, and I still recommend it if you want to write a novel but haven’t got the germ of an idea yet. Favorite sections were digging through my personal history for topics, characters, and themes; visualizing the setting, the town, the ambience of my novel in detail; working through the exercise on point of view.
All good stuff!
I checked out the next few chapters and the book (Is Life Like This?) is still totally worth keeping on my desk. It’s comprehensive so I know Uncle John won’t let me accidentally drop anything through the cracks.
But there’s a kitty on top of that book now. Campbell with his Hero’s Journey, and now Snyder with his cat, have brought me back to the story I wanted to tell in the first place, and restored my confidence in my ability to tell it well.