Errr. Rather, a new headshot. Why is it such torture having a photo taken? One of the things I need as an aspiring author is a great headshot. I can use it on my blog, on my business cards, on the cover page of my proposals and one day on the dust cover of my actual, printed, hold-them-in-my-hands books.
Which means the really lovely photo taken seven years ago just wasn’t going to cut it. Nor would the photo taken by holding my arms way out in front of me with my own digital camera. And don’t even think about the headshot cropped out of a family snapshot. Sigh.
Luckily, my neighbor and good friend Amy (Amelia’s Eye) is a professional photographer. So last Sunday she came over after church with her awesome, real-photographer-type equipment and began torturing, er, photographing me.
Here’s my problem. I’m a smiler. I mean BIG smiles. Smiles that crinkle my eyes and wrinkle my nose. Grins that expose gums and sometimes cause me to tuck my chin in a way that should NOT be captured on film.
Amy: Smile. No, not that much. Little smile. Okay, you look like you’re in pain. Shake it out and start over. Good, good . . . now you’re glazing over . . .
And so it went. Fortunately, Amy is patient and talented. To the right you see the results of her persistence. My husband loves it. My mother loves it. I think my eyes are too crinkly and my hair is too flyaway. But if I squint a little and don’t look too long, I guess it’s pretty alright.
The writer’s conundrum–we think our words are perfect, but our headshots are forever flawed.