Layers and Bleed Lines

The hidden work behind my book cover (and why it nearly broke me)

Designing Under Pressure

I didn’t know a book cover could undo me.

Not in the emotional, artistic, “I feel so seen” kind of way.

I mean undo—as in unravel. Stretch. Exhaust. Test.

When I first decided to design my own cover for 17 Syllables of Me, I thought it would be empowering. Something creative. Soulful. Maybe even fun.

It was none of those things—at least not at first.

It was confusing. Technical. Frustrating. Lonely.

And somewhere around version 49, I realized this wasn’t graphic design.

This was soul work.

“Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.” — Thomas Merton

Every Pixel Had a Cost

What no one tells you about book design is that every little element has consequences. And that you’ll learn most of this the hard way.

The spine wouldn’t align unless I got the page count just right.

The bleed lines? A mystery. First I stayed inside them—wrong. Then I bled over—better. But by then I’d already redesigned everything twice.

And then came color codes.

Did you know blue isn’t just blue? There are thousands of shades—and every one sends a different emotional message. Deep blue, cherry blossom pink, purplish blue with a whisper of melancholy—each one changed how the book felt.

“Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.” — Psalm 127:1

Even petal placement became a spiritual exercise. Too far left? Unbalanced. Too crowded? Distracting.

I adjusted cloud transparency, font shadows, drop caps, and kerning. And just when I thought I had it right, KDP preview would slice off the edge and whisper, “Start over.”

The One Conversation That Changed Everything

Somewhere in that mess, I asked for feedback.

And I got it. Straight. Honest. Not sugar-coated. It stung a little.

But here’s the truth:

That conversation saved the cover.

My original design was “nice.” But it didn’t say what the book said.

It didn’t hold the emotional weight.

It didn’t feel like the haikus or the healing or the heartbreak.

“Wounds from a friend can be trusted, but an enemy multiplies kisses.” — Proverbs 27:6

So I went back in. Again. And again. I lost count the number of times I went back to the drawing board.

When I finally uploaded the final version, it wasn’t perfect—but it was layered. Meaningful. Honest.

It reflected the me who stayed in the process long enough to see it through.

“Let all things be done decently and in order.” — 1 Corinthians 14:40

Soul Insights

1.) Beauty has a process—don’t shortcut it.

You can slap a stock photo on a cover and call it done. Or you can craft something honest. The difference? Layers. Time. Meaning.

2.) The invisible work matters most.

The subtle tweaks—the font weight, the petal direction, the cloud opacity—changed everything. Even if no one sees it, I know it’s there.

3.) Feedback is a mirror, not a weapon.

Criticism doesn’t have to crush. It can refine. That one conversation made the design stronger and made me braver.

4.) We’re all mid-design.

Just like a cover, people are layered, in process, adjusting. Don’t judge someone by their current draft.

5.) The outside should match the inside.

A cover is more than packaging—it’s a message. It should say what the soul of the work says. Clear. Whole. Aligned.

Final Thoughts: The Becoming Behind the Beauty

The final cover of 17 Syllables of Me didn’t come from inspiration.

It came from late nights, lost files, self-doubt, pixel nudging, and perseverance.

And maybe that’s what makes it beautiful.

Because now I see that every color, every font, every petal and shadow and subtle layer—they’re not just design choices.

They’re evidence of what it took to bring this book into the world.

“Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin…” — Zechariah 4:10

So if you’re building something that no one else sees yet—don’t give up.

Keep adjusting the spine. Keep layering the color.

Keep believing in the quiet, holy work of becoming.

And when you’re ready—

come take a look at the cover.

It’s called 17 Syllables of Me: A Collection of Haiku and Heart.

It’s not just a design.

It’s the story behind the story.

Soul Path Insights