Disclaimer: I’ve never been formally educated in design. The closest I’ve come to that is a web design course during undergraduate studies. Most of what I know comes from over a decade of programming and web design tutorials and the tutelage of co-workers. Books? I’ve thought about designing them plenty of times, but I’m a complete newbie to this.

You’d think that I would use the entry title for this, but I prefer to use the title more creatively… here is the main issue I am here to discuss. I want to design my book right now, and not just “write” it until I’m done. Is this idiotic? Isn’t the main point of writing a book the written word? No. Not for me, anyways. As anybody who knows me already knows, I am a picture guy. I prefer my news in pictures, video, and most especially info graphics.

I’m kicking myself though, because I’m spending so much time worrying about how to lay out the pages, thinking about the table of contents design (someone mentioned to me that I should design the TOC as a map of the USA, and I like that idea), contemplating the placement and typography for the title of the book on Roger’s excellently-designed drawing which is going on the cover, and other non-written aspects of the book. I’m concerned over how to design the photographs which make up the bulk of the book. I love that Anthony pushed me towards scanning every single image to keep a consistent aesthetic throughout the book, but I don’t have the skills, time, or money to get some decent color reproduction. Think about this: the pictures were taken on different cameras by (mostly) non-photographers, printed out on more than one printer on many different occasions, and then I’m going to scan each of them on a budget all-in-one printer, and then print them out again in a book. Did I mention I don’t have any desire to get into color management for this book? I’m glad that Blurb doesn’t offer color management for non-pro customers.

So, back to the main issue I raised earlier. Should I be worrying about these things now? I’ve so far written about the planning stages and the first 6 days of a 21-day trip. I have plans on writing appendices, as well as organizing some of the notes and comments my friends have made in yet more appendices. I’m even thinking about publishing these in separate volumes, especially considering that at the rate I’m going, I’ll be over the page limit for most do-it-yourself print outfits, which won’t print more than 500 or so pages per book (without the planned TOC, introduction, & appendices, I’m already at 150 for the planning stages + 6 days of travel).

There’s a part of me that feels I should just concentrate on the writing and leave the design for later when I actually know how much information I’m working with. Then I would just write for a while and put things together afterwards, leaving less time for me to worry about design and layout, things that I might change my mind about in the future anyways.

Design is so important in this project, though! The conclusion I’ve come to over and over again is that I should lay out my writing with pictures, and that by placing them together now I can make better decisions about the direction the book takes. And I can’t foresee myself taking any other direction with this book in the near future. So I guess this book won’t be seeing the light of day for quite a while.

Was this all just a rant?

While going through my journal pages — the ones that will end up scanned and placed into book pages — you will undoubtably come across about one crossed out word on each page, or some similar imperfection that I spent little-to-no time correcting. An example:

Why do I do this?

I do this for a number of reasons. First of all, I never make a mistake on purpose. Then it wouldn’t be a “mistake.” It would be, at worst, idiotic, and at best, a shallow attempt at art, in my opinion. But I am attempting to create art here. Art based on non-fiction with a certain pretense… but still art.

And part of my goal with it is to recreate something that never existed before: a travel journal with an account of the places I saw and the things I did. And part of beauty in creating a [written] journal is that you can’t backspace your mistakes. The best you can do is bring white-out and blot out memories line by line. I didn’t want to do this. So if a drunk hand used the letter “d” instead of “g” (or vice-versa; I do this constantly, both on keyboards and on paper), I make a snap decision of whether to cross it out or try to “convert” it to what I meant to write. Or if I use a word incorrectly, and I catch it, I fix it, first crossing out the failed word.

And if I miss a mistake? Well, that’s OK too. For now. I’m not sure what to do about mistakes that other people find, or that I find later when I transcribe the text onto my computer for posterity. I’ll write about that when I figure it out. For now, I keep track of them by writing “[sic]” next to the mistakes when I type up the journal pages.

In a previous post I mentioned that I would be receiving artwork from my friend Roger to use on the cover of the book. Well, I did receive it, and I would like to show everybody what it looks like:

A larger version is available at flickr (click the “All Sizes” link above the image in order to get the 600-dpi scanned original if you like).

I have a few ideas for where to take this drawing, but I haven’t made an official decision on that yet. Perhaps I’ll color in some of the flowers. Or maybe I will color everything. I’ve considered coloring in certain flowers to spell out “Sunflowers”. In any case, I’ll post updates with new ideas and possibilities as I flesh them out.

I don’t know why I thought about the title so early, or for such a short amount of time. The title which I decided upon then (early October 2008) was Sunflowers, and it looks like it will probably be the final title.

The short version of how I chose Sunflowers as my book’s title is that one of the pictures above my desk was of Shane taking a picture of a sunflower field somewhere in South Dakota on the way to Mt. Rushmore.

The long version is only slightly more complicated. It involves the meaning those Sunflowers Shane was photographing held for me:

Why I don’t like stopping on trips

Man, I can be a real bitch sometimes. If I am on my way to a place many hours away by car, I can’t help but count every minute we would lose if we stopped to pee, to get gas, or even to eat. On this trip, we had an itinerary that made sense and was — short of any unexpected traffic — completely reasonable. But 4 days into the trip we were already arriving hours late to each of our destinations. Sometimes only 1 or 2 hours, other times 3 or 4 hours, but every time I would curse under my breath that we couldn’t figure out a way to arrive when we said we would, especially if it inconveniences another person who is graciously hosting us.

In this particular case, with the sunflowers, we were on our way to see Mt. Rushmore before camping nearby. This drive would take us nearly the entire length of South Dakota, which should only take about 5 hours; 5 hours was nothing on a trip that would routinely see us driving 8 or more hours straight between destinations. We got off to a late start after finding out the hard way that it takes more than an hour to pack the car back up, eat some breakfast, change, wash faces for those that believe in such things, and get on the road. That’s fine: we allowed for some generous leeway in our itinerary on most days.

On this day, however, we found a way to stretch a 5-hour drive into something more like 7ish hours before arrival. This was due to a combination of sunflowers, gassing up Katrina, eating, and a freaky place called “Wall Drug.” The real killer for me though were those damn sunflowers. I couldn’t think of a more useless way to waste our time, at least that’s how I was thinking at the time the idea was proposed to stop and take pictures of the giant things. I didn’t really have a say in the matter though, because I was in the back seat.

So there we were, on the side of the road, Shane taking pictures of sunflowers, Zach too, and Ben taking pictures of Shane taking pictures. And me sitting in the car fuming to myself about how much sooner we could be there, watching cars whiz by at breakneck speeds while we stood still.

Why my attitude sucked

Looking back, I realize that those sunflowers represented everything that the trip was supposed to be about. We were on a trip to see the United States, to see whatever we could possibly see in 3 weeks of that massive country, and I was more worried about sitting down and relaxing knowing that we’re on schedule and where we thought we would be at the time we thought we would be there.

I regret being such a stubborn jerk when it came to the sunflowers, and other stops like them. So choosing the title Sunflowers serves as a reminder of what was important, and that sometimes it is for the best to “stop and smell the flowers,” literally and figuratively, whenever the opportunity presents itself.

Other possibilities

The only other title under consideration currently is Corduroying, borrowing the meaning from the obscure verb form of the word “corduroy”. From the Random House Unabridged Dictionary 2006 Edition:

5. to form (a road or the like) by laying logs transversely.

I love that verb. It gives the feeling that you lay your own life out in front of you as you go along, working hard to keep going on the path you desire. And it is how I like to look at my travels. You make all the plans in the world, but you have to work hard to meet your goals, and just as in building a real log road, your expectations and outcomes change wildly with every bump you encounter along the way.

I knew what I wanted to write about — my road trip in 2006 — but I had no idea how to start writing. I had never embarked on such an ambitious project before. So I did the only thing that felt natural: I thought back as far as I could, to my earliest memory of the road trip.

In this case, the first thing I thought of was my dining room in the Abdab. The Abdab was my home from the summer of 2005-2007, and it was a home away from home for many of the friends of its inhabitants. We would play host quite often to Zach’s, Greg’s, and Max’s friends (they were my flatmates), since our home offered a warm atmosphere without the specter of parents lingering over us as we partook in activities they may not have approved of. This mainly meant we wanted to drink in peace (Max did not drink, but he definitely was a great friend to have around when we would drink, especially if we started doing wild things. His camera was always at the ready).

Naturally, then, the Abdab was where the first plans for the trip were laid out — literally laid out on the dining room table. Shane, a friend of Zach’s who I had met about a year before planning began (do I really have to introduce everybody in the book and in the blog?), supplied the map (and the beers, since he was the only 21-year old of us), and we supplied the space. It was a match made in heaven.

That memory was the first that I could recall regarding the road trip. Unfortunately, I cannot recall when we first discussed the idea, or when we made plans to make the plan. But I worked with what I had, and came up with a concept.

That dining room table

That first concept was to include a picture of the table — and the map too if I had a picture of it — along with a description of the place “where it all began.” This would presumably set the scene for how a road trip might begin, especially interesting to someone who might not have ever been on such a trip before. I thought that it would make sense to start small, and then build up to the first step on the gas pedal.

Unfortunately, there was no picture of a dining room table, with or without a map. So what now? I have a habit of sketching imitations of my favorite artist’s work. They often involve flowers, wheat fields, paths, and people (I have never been any good at drawing people), and since they are sketches, they would probably fit in with a journal-style writing, and the themes are represented in the trip which took us down park paths, by and through flower fields, and down roads surrounded by wheat and long yellow grass.

What this got me was the idea that perhaps I could sketch the scene myself in a style I love to imitate. Roger King of the Pine would draw all of the band’s artwork in a rough pen & ink style. Here is an example of the front and back cover for one of their 7″ splits:

I’ll right come out and admit that I have nowhere near the talent Roger has. I got as far as drawing a semi-3d dining room table with Shane’s head right above it before I realized it was a completely lost cause. I can handle drawing the “sewn patch” thing and the 2d flowers and grass sketches, but people, tables, and other three-dimensional objects were out of the question.

A compromise

This led me to a compromise. I would write about the dining room table, but there would be no picture or sketch of it. The best I could do was use a picture of the dining room from when we first moved in, sans table at the time.

I still wanted to incorporate drawings and sketches into the journal pages, so I decided to do this in a few ways. The first way was that I would begin different “entries” or “sections” with a title and miniature drawing underlined with a line of “sewn patch” stylings:

The second way was to draw one map of the proposed route, and then a new map for each new drive right before I began writing about it, each surrounded again by the “sewn patch.” For each of the “new” maps for each drive, I would include the previous routes and end with that day’s destination, so that the reader might feel like they are making progress with each new destination they read about:

The final way I planned on incorporating Roger’s style of artwork into the book was by asking him to design the cover of the book. I sent him a picture and an explanation of the book for inspiration, and he has agreed to do the artwork! I will hopefully have it in my hands tomorrow, and I’ll post the results here on the blog.

Now I can begin

For me, these decisions marked the beginning of the writing process. A bit convoluted, yes, but they laid down a foundation of style that was crucial to work out before I began writing, since handwriting is a lot more difficult to rewrite than words in a word processor. I couldn’t exactly white out an entire paragraph if I decided to draw in a title at the top of the page a month after I first wrote it.

On the flip side, these decisions also limited me going forward to a specific style if I wanted to maintain continuity throughout the book. So far, I think I’ve made the right choices, but I won’t know for sure until I change my mind. Hopefully those changes can wait until the 2nd Edition.

I mentioned before that I wanted to write travel journals during my journeys, but always failed. When I decided to write about one of those journeys years later, I had plenty of design choices to make, one of which was how I would lay out the text.

My main options in text-layout were:

1. Long typed narrative
2. Blocks of typed text (which do not connect narratively)
3. Captions only
4. Handwritten narrative
5. Handwritten journal

Let me explain why I didn’t choose 1, 2, 3, or 4.

Long typed narrative

This is how most books are written. The only breaks come where a new chapter or section begins.

Pros: If you know your typography and book design rules, these can be easy on the eyes and easy to read (assuming the prose is enjoyable, of course). People are comfortable reading this format, and it usually makes the best use of paper space. More efficient use of paper = less paper used = saving the trees of the world = saving money.

Cons: Boring! It doesn’t work well with photos — publishers always put them on a dozen or so glossy pages in the middle of the book, completely out of place (and always the first page I turn to). The photo issue was a deal breaker. Denied.

Blocks of typed text

Think of these as “memos” from the trip. Not as long and detailed as diary or journal entries, but not as concise as photo captions. Also differentiating them from captions, they do not have to directly relate to the photos.

Pros: Instead of dedicating the writing and reading to long descriptions of events one after the other, this works well for myself — I just don’t know what to write half the time — and for the reader — since you probably don’t want to read my rambling run-ons page after page. Also, this works much better than option number 1 in terms of photo placement options. Blocks of text and photos are both (usually) rectangles, so they can be placed on a grid, or perhaps haphazardly, like a collage.

Cons: Someone wishing to actually follow my journey may have a difficult time tracing the route using blocks of text that might not be placed in a logical order. The same problem as before could present itself because there is not any connection between each block of text. If there were, it might be hard to follow.

Captions only

The book would be a photo book. Captions would be the only text outside of the supplementary sections, such as the preface and epilogue.

Pros: Photos everywhere. One of my personal goals was to showcase the photos to provide a visual narrative where possible, and while most of the photos are obviously amateur, they impart a personal feel to the trip and the book. My personal feelings aside, sometimes pictures tell a better story than words.

Cons: Sometimes pictures don’t tell a better story than words. Like I said, this is not “portfolio-quality” photography. National Geographic would want nothing to do with this. Also, there are some portions of the trip with a surfeit of photos, while some events have a dearth of visual representation.

Handwritten narrative

Think of a handwritten version of the long typed narrative entry on book-size paper. Chapters, sections, parts, all the same, but handwritten for a personal touch.

Pros: Shares many pros with the long typed narrative. Gives a sincere, personal touch to what is a very personal experience. Feels like you are reading a diary entry, getting a glimpse into the writer’s life that few would be privileged with.

Cons: Handwriting is in the vast majority of cases harder to read than even badly designed type. And for a book which could easily reach novel-length before it ends, this could prove difficult and ultimately frustrating.

Handwritten journal

Something of a cross between the handwritten narrative and the blocks of text, it is comprised of handwritten journal pages which are significantly smaller than traditional book-size diaries and journals.

Pros: It provides the personal touch of the handwritten narrative with the adaptability of the blocks of text, and without the tendency to ramble on if given the opportunity with plenty of room on each page of the narrative versions and fewer pictures to get in the way.

Cons: Again, handwriting — mine particularly — is difficult to decipher. I not only have subpar legibility, but I tend to use some phrases that probably make no sense to many readers, which compounds the issue.

In the end, I decided to go with the fifth option of a handwritten journal. This is absolutely a very personal subject, and I wanted people to get that feeling when reading it. And I also feel that showcasing photos is important for this project. So a traditional book-style narrative wouldn’t work well in my opinion.

Another benefit to the handwritten journal is that it gives me, the writer, the feeling of writing a journal. I am not afraid to acknowledge the fourth wall, so I don’t have to try and fool the reader into thinking this is a bona fide travel journal, but the format certainly helps give me a feeling of travel journaling while writing about my experiences.

Although the length of the text may well reach tens of thousands of words, I believe that the small pages will help convey a sense of ease to the readers. I imagine that people who commonly finish a page before putting the book down for later reading will have an easy time finishing up one of the miniature journal pages before putting the book down. On a similar note, I imagine that the personal nature of the small journal pages will make the reader more at ease with the book, feeling free to jump around to different pages, not afraid that they’ll lose their place.

Essentially, I think that the handwritten journal offers a great compromise of personalism, great photo compatibility, and narrative flow without the pressure to read chronologically, at the expense of some readability.

I hope you will agree.