I have a bowl at home, a pretty glass bowl, which is filled with glass butterflies.  So when I am sitting at home watching television, I normally have it in my lap and run my hands through it.  I like the clanging noise it makes.  My undutiful offsprings beg to differ.  It annoys them.

So, mostly tongue and cheek, I named my novel “A Bowlful of Butterflies”

I dreamt of this as a cover.

Yeah, yeah.  It is not original and probably has a whole lot of copyright issues.  But I thought it looked classy and dignified.  That is me, I borrow class and dignity you see.  My impetuosity does not grant me much of it in my person.

My huge fear was that the cover would be pink or blue and scream out on the shelves of book shops “This is by women, about women and for women”

That would scare any male buyer of the book, and that is 50% of the population.  Horrors

So we went through a gamut of covers.  Writing the book was easier I must say.  A word of appreciation for my editor, she is so patient.  Shikha, Lady RESPECT!  You’re a saint.

And then we hit upon this one, which I loved

I loved the green, loved the mystery that this cover seemed to convey.

But sadly it was not to be …

As my DIL points out, it has too much detail, it may turn out cluttered.  Well, she is an interior designer and has impeccable eye for detail.

So this is the final face of my book

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