Bullet Journals Revisited, And A Defense Of Rapid Logging

A few weeks ago, I read Ryder Carroll’s book The Bullet Journal Method.

I’ve been using bullet journals for years at this point. Not the pretty art-pieces that you’ll find on the internet, full of scrolling calligraphy and Washi tape, but a series of beat-up journals that are filled with messy handwriting and scribbled notes. Notebooks with no interest in being beautiful objects, but plenty of practical use as a tool. I picked it up around 2012, after being impressed by the way my friend Kate Cuthbert organised her work at Harlequin Australia.

Ten years of relatively consistent bullet journaling is a long time. Over the years, I’ve gotten large chunks of my family into the habit — there’s often a family Leuchtturm shop around the end of the year. I’ve experimented with different approaches, from one dedicated bullet journal for everything to bullet journal by project to bullet journal by context (writing/work/life). I’ve researched and experimented with layouts and approaches, and found stuff that really worked for me (elements of Tobias Buckell’s hacks and showrunner John Rodgers hacks have both been useful).

All of which is really a prelude to saying I wasn’t expecting much from Ryder Carroll’s book. I picked it up because the Bullet Journal method has been a lifeline for me in recent years, and I wanted to throw some cash his way for sharing it so freely back in the early days, but I worked on the assumption I knew what I was doing.

Turns out, not so much. 

Going back to basics on bullet journaling after a decade of using the system has been an interesting experience, because there’s a certain amount of drift. You cleave to the practices that are easy and useful, and let other parts fall by the wayside.

Going back to basics—with a more detailed explanation of why they’re in place—proved to be a transformative experience. There are three big tips that have wildly changed my relationship with my bullet journal notebook, but the biggest has been recommitting to my daily log of activities and making notes.

The log, in my experience, is one of the first things to go as people get familiar with the Bullet Journal system. It feels less transformative than indexing and threading, which change your relationship with the contents and thought processes. The value of rapid logging your day is easily overlooked—certainly, for the last few years, I’ve been more likely to implement a daily plan than a daily log.

The Bullet Journal Method convinced me to give logging another try, and it’s value was proven in the weirdest of places—giving our cat medication. 

Some backstory: we’d been giving The Admiral pills because the poor kitten has a UTI and some teeth issues, and for the majority of that time my spouse, Sarah, has been our designated pill delivery person. Not that I wouldn’t try — I’d give it a go every morning — but my first few attempts were unpleasant for me and the cat, and Sarah would step in and take over in order to avoid distressing The Admiral further.

Fortunately, Sarah had some insight into what I was doing wrong, and would give me a tip after every attempt. Unfortunately, since the pills happen right before I started work, those tips would ordinarily get lost in the sudden transition from “home Peter” to “work Peter”, with slow (or no) improvement.

The cat’s illness coincided with the recommitment to logging, and part of that meant jotting down every event—work tasks, books started, giving the cat pills — and one or two notes about the experience.

So instead of letting things fall out of my head, every bit of advice Sarah gave me got  logged and reviewed. I made my own notes, critiquing each attempt, walking through each step until I figured the point of divergence between concept and practice. I’d create notes to supplement that advice with my own research, hitting up youtube and web pages.

And it only took a few days for a task that I would have flailed at for a week, giving into the option of learned helplessness, to become something I could wrap my head around. Admittedly, right at the end of our three days of giving tablets, but there’s now a record of thinking through and correcting all my mistakes to review the next time I have to do it.

The same philosophy’s started to spread through day job tasks, and publishing tasks. Projects that had stalled for months started to pick up speed, both because I was thinking about them with more clarity, and because taking notes gradually led to building system.

Logging’s become a habit worth keeping over the last two weeks, and one that I’ve stuck to far more consistently than other journaling habits.

That said, it comes with challenges: I’m used to a standard bullet journal lasting me between three months and a year, depending on what I’m doing (faster while researching a PhD, slower when working for places that have their own project management systems). Logging and note-taking on this level is chewing through pages far more quickly than I’m used too, and it’s conceivable I’ll go through a notebook a month if I stick with the rate of pages-used-per-day that I’ve run with over the last two weeks. 

On the plus side, I’ve got a *lot* of blank notebooks, but I can see a future where I need to think really hard about how they’re all going to get stored once they’re filled.

In the meantime, The Bullet Journal Method‘s a recommended read if you’re interested in trying the BuJo out or revisiting the foundations. Trust me when I tell you there’s more to get out of it than you’d think. 

Behind The Scenes On A Cover Redesign

Last year I did a new cover for Alan Baxter’s Shadow Bites: A Horror Sampler, a free bundle of stories and novel excerpts for folks who’d like to get a taste of Alan’s work. It’s a project from a longer conversation Al and I were having about title development, the stuff we’ve both been doing in the indie publishing space, and the difference between the titles where development has been nigh perfect (The Roo) and the stuff that could do with a little spruce.

Here’s the original and the refresh side-by-side for context. Original is on the left, my revamp is on the right. 

I won’t comment too much on the original, as it’s not my work and wasn’t specifically design with Al’s book in mind, but I will break down some of the reasons I pushed Alan to consider making a change. Mostly, these reasons have nothing to do with the cover design, and everything to do with a mismatch between the books goals and the design.

For me, the starting point for covers isn’t “is this a good/pretty cover?” but “does this cover fit the title development for the title?”, which is a slightly knottier question that benefits from a little thought. Title development starts with an emotion—you figure out what you want the reader to feel about the book, then work your way back through elements such as cover design, price, title, subtitle, trim size/format, production value, interior design, and synopsis to make sure that everything is working in sync.

Some of those decisions were already made by the time Alan and I were talking: Shadow Bites is Al’s loss leader, an invitation for new readers who’d like to check out his work for free and decided if they’d like to buy more. It’s ebook only, a mixed-bag of stories and excerpts that range from otherworldly horror to action-horror or urban fantasy horror, and the titles and subtitle were set in place.

But here’s what I was advocating for from a title development stand-point:

It may be free, but it needs to look expensive! This one was a big one, because Al’s back catalogue has a lot of really nicely designed books in it, and the original cover stood out in all the wrong ways when you stacked it beside the rest. Beyond that, we come back to the emotion—something like the sampler should have the thrill of new discovery mixed into its DNA. The cover should be as evocative and enticing as the fiction inside, because it’s where you first make that promise of something cool.

Alan’s name needed to be big and legible at thumbnail size. One of the un-spoken assumptions about book cover design these days is that every book cover is an ad. Not just at the point of purchase, but every time a reader picks up their e-reader and thumbs through the list of unread titles. Even if they don’t actually pick Shadow Bites as their next book, that subtle reminder of Alan’s name every time they scroll through helps remind them he’s an author they wanted to keep an eye on.

Al’s name was the element that disappeared entirely in the original cover—subsumed into the chaos of the design. Rather than being pulled towards the name or the title, my eyes naturally pulled towards the large, dark area on the cheek of the screaming face. We debated whether the cover would work better if the name became a block colour, but I was already thinking of other ways the cover could change for the better. The two issues above were the big picture changes, but there were a half dozen smaller considerations that went into new design. I’m going to post a larger version of the redesign here, ’cause I’m going to talk about really small-scale stuff, and it might be useful to get in and see more detail.

And a quick list of small-scale design decisions I’m really proud of, mostly emerging out of the process. 

The Zombie Dog cover image is a neat little tactical choice I’m pleased to have been able to make. Originally, I went searching for monster maw images on stock art sites, hoping to find something that could look like it was devouring the title. Then I stumbled across the zombie dog from TPXYA Illustration and knew it was the winner. The image does three things for the cover that are really useful.

1) a neat horror image that won’t look out-of-place among other horror novels. It’s also an overtly supernatural horror monster, which is a little cleaner than the fractured face of the original cover (which could beread as psychological horror)

2) It’s a subtle link to some action-horror franchises which feature undead dogs, such as the Resident Evil films. Even if you aren’t familiar with those films, the notion of an undead dog conveys a different type of motion and threat compared to human zombies, and that dynamic works for the book. 

 3) The dog links link back to Alan’s social media persona, where his love of his dog features heavily in a lot of the posts. It’s the most lightly subliminal thing going on on this cover, but the goal here is to get people to invest in Alan and his work, and that continuity may help as they go from book to Facebook/Instagram. 

And yes, points 2 and 3 are really small things that folks won’t consciously notice, but I’m all about reinforcing brand where I can on something like this.

Moving on, then. The Big Chunky Title Font is a step away from some of the horror conventions in books, but it’s done with a reason. Do a tour of the big magazines that publish horror short stories every month, and you’ll often find big, chunky mastheads at the top of the page. Since the free stuff in the sampler is all short fiction and novellas – and the sampler itself is occupying a similar, temporary space that magazines used to occupy – the title font is making a subtle allusion that helps set the tone for a new reader.

The Orange and Teal Shading, which is so faint that you probably haven’t noticed it yet. Look on the left side of the cover image and there’s a subtle light blue shading over the background, while the right side of the image has an orange-red shade. This pulls double duty as a design element—it gives the cover depth and pulls your eyes towards the centre, and it evokes any number of action-horror, sci-fi, and fantasy films where Orange and Teal is the dominant colour scheme.

The Use of an Unaltered Font on A Horror Sampler and the pitch. While I distressed the larger fonts and added textures to give them a worn feel, the font in the square box advising readers this is a sampler (and what’s contained within) is left untouched and in a pristine white. That makes it the biggest point of contrast on the front cover, and the place where the eyes tend to rest naturally in the same way the dark cheek on the original cover pulled the eyes towards it. 

The goal here is to make that resting point information rich, reminding people about what the book is (a sampler) what they’re getting free (three stories and a novella) and what call to actions will probably follow (buy some longer works). Separating them out into the list makes it easy to process, but also reinforces that Alan is a guy whose work has breadth, with a deep backlist to go devour if you enjoy the sampler. In a crowded marketplace, that’s a not inconsiderable advantage.

There are probably other things that came up along the way that I didn’t make note of, but this is already slightly longer than intended. And we don’t yet know if the new cover is going to make a big difference to the downloads of the sampler—title development and cover design is often a series of best-guesses based on experience and core principles, and it’s ultimately the marketplace that tells you whether you got things right or wrong.

I think it’s edging up on something that is better aligned with Al’s goals for the book, though, and I’m quietly confident it’ll work based on the feedback Alan got from early previews on his social channels.

If not… well, the nice thing about the current publishing landscape is that it’s easy to try again. And we all get an insight into the way my brain works when I’m sitting down to design covers these days, and the tiny decisions that frequently crop up that were invisible to me three or four years ago when my default was “image, same font, done.”

If you’d like to sample Alan’s work, you can download a copy of Shadow Bites for free at most major ebook stores.

And if you need a cover, I’m available for hire as a freelance cover designer if you’d like me to take a crack at one of your books, and have some pre-made covers that might fit if you’re working to a budget.

Research Links 20200413

Years ago, when I first discovered Tumblr, I’d intended to use it as a public dumping ground for research links and images I might want to use later.

Resurrecting the idea here, since virtually nobody comes to blogs anymore, but the folks that do probably share my obsession with seeing how ideas manifest some five to ten years after a writer first discovers them.

Gravstar unleash a new bluetooth speaker design which looks like a battle-scarred war robot from an episode of Doctor Who you haven’t got around to watching yet. Watch the accompanying video for a full sense of their commitment to the motif, and ponder what these choies say about human ideas of authenticity and aesthetics.

As sports stadiums prepare for the resumption of play amid lockdowns, some of them are replacing the crowd experience with robotic stand-ins. Some of them are being given fan’s faces in Belarus. Freaking me out, because I’ve been writing scenes like this for an upcoming project about MMA in space.

Every SF writer who reads this is probably making Mythos jokes right now. Flagged because I need to steal the line “Fungi are basically the digestive track of the plant” for something.

Think about the amount of difficulty into getting an SF-concept like self-driving cars to work, and please shut the fuck up about not having a jetpack already. The future is trickier than anyone thought, but also more amazing.

One lesson from searching for a house to buy: concrete doesn’t age well unless it’s tended for. Much as I adore the design of this, it feels like the “before” picture of a very grungy dystopia.

For all your “I want to go work in a silver-age-of-sci-fi spaceport” needs. Flagging this because it seems likely I’ll want to revisit it for a project I’ve got planned for the second half of the year.

A 53,000 square foot office building in Italy that has minimal technical needs due to the placement of chimneys that handle the lighting, heat, and airflow issues usually relegated to electrical systems. Incredibly beautiful design. Go check it out.

Then ponder why this doesn’t feel anywhere near as sexy as a bluetooth speaker designed like a beat-up war robot.