Your First Book Cover: How to Write a One-Page Design Brief

Despite the saying, don’t judge a book by its cover, we all know the importance of a great book cover. It shows the potential buyer the genre and tone of your book among other things. That means writers who self-publish must learn the ins and outs of designing their book cover or hire someone to do it for them.

If I hire someone, how do I need to tell that designer what I want?

Today’s post from guest Brigitta Körmöndi tells us just that and in a hilarious way.

About Brigitta Körmöndi
Brigitta is a Hungarian digital artist and book cover designer, and the creative mind behind BoN Editions and the Coverlog blog. She creates original digital collages and premade book covers, combining visual storytelling, artistic experimentation, and a healthy dose of humor. Through Coverlog, she shares practical insights into book cover design, creativity, and the occasionally absurd adventures of being an artist.
Visit Coverlog

Your First Book Cover: How to Write a One-Page Design Brief (An almost painless guide to keeping yourself—and your designer—sane.)
by Brigitta Körmöndi

Congratulations! You’ve finished your first novel.
You survived rebellious characters, plot twists, and the discovery that your protagonist had blue eyes on page 73 and brown eyes on page 240.
Now you just need a book cover.
Simple.
All you have to do is explain an image that exists inside your head.
An image nobody has ever seen.
Including you.

1. What’s Your Book About? Briefly!

Your designer doesn’t need your 120,000-word manuscript, three alternative endings, or your protagonist’s childhood trauma.
They need the genre, target audience, and central conflict.
For example:
“A psychological thriller about a woman who suspects her husband isn’t who he claims to be.”
Perfect.
The designer doesn’t need to know he’s actually a time-traveling accountant.
Especially if your readers aren’t supposed to know either.

2. Three Mood Words. Not Nineteen.

“Dark, but not too dark. Romantic, but not sentimental. Minimalist, but with lots of details. Cheerfully depressing.”
Your designer is now considering a career in agriculture.
Choose three words: mysterious, melancholic, threatening.
If your nineteenth adjective is “hopelessly optimistic,” you’re probably no longer writing a design brief.
You’re asking for help.

3. Show Examples. Not Twenty-Seven.

Choose three to five covers you like.
Explain why.
Typography? Colors? Composition?
If your examples include Scandinavian crime fiction, a pink romantic comedy, and a medieval demon-summoning manual, some explanation would be appreciated.
Mind-reading isn’t included in the design fee.

4. Your Cover Isn’t a Crime Scene Evidence Locker.

You want a woman, a forest, a castle, a raven, a bloody knife, a pocket watch, and a wolf.
The wolf appears only in Chapter 17.
But he’s essential.
Naturally.
A successful cover doesn’t need to illustrate your entire novel.
Choose one or two strong visual elements.
Leave the wolf alone.
For now.

5. Burgundy Isn’t Red.

“I’d like a deep red.”
The designer sends a draft.
“Too burgundy.”
Another draft.
“Too red.”
A third.
“Could it be warmer?”
The designer checks their own body temperature.
Specify two or three dominant colors, preferably with examples. Mention colors you want to avoid.

6. Your Title Must Be Readable. Unfortunately.

Beautiful handwritten lettering sounds wonderful.
Unless your title is:
The Chronicle of the Inexplicable and Extremely Unfortunate Disappearance of the Rutherford-Wellington Family.
In tiny letters.
Against a detailed forest.
Good luck.
Provide the exact title and author name. Remember that your cover must work as a tiny online thumbnail.

7. Technical Details: Art’s Unpleasant Relatives.

Ebook or paperback? What dimensions? Which publishing platform? What’s your deadline?
Print covers also require accurate spine measurements based on the final page count and printer specifications.
Yes, the page count.
The number that was 312 yesterday, 348 today, and will probably be 291 tomorrow.

8. The One-Page Brief That Might Save Your Designer’s Sanity

Here’s what your brief should contain:
Title and author: Exact wording.
Genre and audience: Who will read it?
Synopsis: Three or four sentences.
Mood: Three adjectives.
Main visual idea: One or two elements.
Colors: Preferred and forbidden.
Typography: Style and readability.
References: Three to five examples, with explanations.
Avoid: Unwanted imagery.
Technical requirements: Format, dimensions, platform, files needed.
Deadline and budget: Actual numbers.
That’s it.
One page.
You’ve significantly reduced the chances of your designer disappearing into a remote mountain monastery.

9. Plot Twist: Your Cover Might Already Exist.

After all this advice, I have a confession.
You might not need a custom design brief at all.
I know.
We’ve worked so hard.
Premade book covers are designs created before a particular author purchases them. You choose one, and the designer adds your title and name according to the purchase terms.
They’re often more affordable and faster than custom designs. You also know what you’re getting.
However, customization may be limited. Always check licensing terms and whether the design is sold exclusively.
I create premade covers myself.
It’s rather like running a matchmaking agency.
One client is a novel.
The other is a book cover.
My job is to introduce them.
Whether you choose premade or custom, the goal is the same: a cover that makes readers curious.

10. And Then There’s AI.

Of course, no discussion of contemporary design would be complete without AI.
Mention it in a writers forum and someone will probably start building a barricade.
Sometimes the same writer who rejects AI-assisted artwork asks ChatGPT to check whether their angry comment sounds sufficiently outraged.
To be fair, editing text and creating images raise different ethical questions.
In my own work, I use digital collage techniques. Some pieces are entirely AI-free; others incorporate AI-generated elements that I combine and edit in Photoshop.
The creative decisions remain mine.
Technology can assist the process. It doesn’t replace artistic judgment.
And clients deserve to know what they’re buying.

The Final Verdict

A good cover brief doesn’t require telepathy.
It requires clarity.
A good cover doesn’t need to reproduce every detail of your imagination.
It needs to attract the right readers.
If you’d like to see the premade covers waiting to meet their future novels, visit Coverlog.
As for the wolf?
He’s submitted an invoice.
We’re still negotiating.