The changing face of books

I'm getting novel #1 ready to self-publish. I'm planning on using CreateSpace, through amazon, and having both a Kindle version and a paperback version. So in addition to working with the edits from my proofreader and some ideas from an early reader about one of my main characters, I'm also trying to sort out copy for the cover.

I have a title I really like and I've painted an image and scanned it for the cover. It's the back cover that has me stumped. I know I want a blurb, a brief description of the story that will entice the reader to buy and read but do I put a bio on the back with a picture or do I get some advance readers to give me comments?

I personally don't read a lot of reviews. I read the first pages of books and make my buying and reading decision on that and on the blurb. I find out from the blurb if it's a subject/story that interests me and I find out from the first page if I like the author's writing style. That's more important to me than what someone else said. But when I've surveyed some of my writer friends for their opinion, all but one said do blurb and comments, and put the bio inside.

Now here's the changing face of books dilemma: my book is probably not going to end up in bookstores. With self-publishing, the bookstore route is difficult, tedious, and not profitable. Big chains won't take self-published books and independent bookstores will only take one at a time. So selling my book will be mostly on amazon. People won't pick the book up to read the cover. They'll see it on line.

The other way I'll sell books is at workshops and conferences and people will be interested if they heard me speak and liked me, not what others said about me on the back of the cover.

So what to do? Any thoughts from you readers?

My muse

I attended a wonderful workshop on poetry as therapy this weekend with John Fox, author of Poetic Medicine and Finding What You Didn't Lose. In addition to writing some good poems and hearing some great ones, I met a whole new sisterhood of writers. I am so lucky!

Here is one I wrote about my muse.

A heaviness comes
unbidden, unannounced.
A hot breath
on the side of my neck.
A huff, a growl
so low, so tender
so familiar
that my cells turn
as I sleep.
And the dreamtime
turns gold and red.
And the scent of huckleberries
and hot pine pitch
and the coming cave
lie over me like down.
And when I wake,
there is a sharp knowing
at the third eye
that her claw
has penetrated
my is and will be.