Oh No! It’s That Face Again: When My Phone is Full of Selfies

Ding! My phone is offering another “special moment,” my photos compiled and set to bouncy guitar music. They are all pictures of me, taken by me. Selfies. Instead of smiling at pictures of loved ones, I critique. Bangs too long, bangs too short, no bangs, what was I thinking wearing that yellow top, gosh I have a lot of wrinkles, oh, that one’s not too bad.

Google, I don’t want to look at that much me. Save? Why?

Some days Google gives me photos of Annie, my dog. Look, says Google, we found similar photos and made a collage for you. Same boring music. These pix make me sad because she is so old now I keep checking to make sure she’s still breathing.

Once in a great while, my phone will show me beach pictures, photos from somewhere I traveled, or yet another sky shot from my yard, but mostly it’s me and Annie, each of us alone.

The last time I had formal pictures taken was at church for the parish directory. The photographer was sure I’d like to order some 8 x 10s, 5 x 7s, and wallet-size pictures to give to my loved ones. “Surely your kids will want some,” he said. “I don’t have any kids,” I said. The young photographer looked at me like I’d just said I was from Mars. Doesn’t every old lady have kids and grandkids? No. Some of us just have dogs.

If my phone was filled with pictures of family gatherings, multiple poses of little ones, or romantic getaways with my lover, it would be a whole different experience. But I travel alone. I take my own pictures, hoping to get a little scenery behind my big head. I smile because my unsmiling selfies scare me.

Why bother? I need photos for my website, blogs, back covers of my books, publicity, bla bla bla. So I take selfies. Sometimes when I make a public appearance, someone in the audience will photograph me and I’ll beg for copies, but mostly I’m taking pictures of myself on days when I feel attractive. Sometimes I do a video. Same face but moving. I might have just gotten a haircut, the lighting is perfect, or I’m all dressed up and think, why not. I usually don’t look as good as I thought I did.

I have studied the art of the selfie: Hold the camera up high not down low, have the light in front of you not behind you, watch out for poles, halos and other things that might appear to be growing out of your head. Practice with different poses and facial expressions.

I’m so sick of my own face.

I got two dings this morning. One was scenic pictures for which I might want to order canvas prints. The other was . . . me.

What about you? What pictures come up on your phone? Do you take selfies? What do you do with them? Will you take a picture of me if I take a picture of you? Can we do one together?

Here’s some great advice on how to take pictures of yourself: https://www.wikihow.com/Take-Flattering-Photos-of-Yourself

And some more: https://thirdeyetraveller.com/take-photos-of-yourself-when-travelling-solo/

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Don’t Shoot! Oh Wait, I Need Photos

Some cultures are said to believe that when a photographer takes your picture, he is stealing your soul. I think my dog might believe that, too.

It was time for new author photos. I had been using the same ones for years. My hair is grayer now. I have a new book, Seal Rock Sound, to sell, and I didn’t want people looking at my photo and saying, “Is that you? You look different.” I hired local photographer Chris Graamans because he does terrific work. We did the deed last week.

For me, getting author photos taken is on a par with getting my teeth cleaned. I’m going to have to live with these pictures for years. They’ll show up online, on the back of my books, in articles about me. They have to be good, and I’m all too aware of my imperfections. When I asked Chris if he could shave off 20 years and 30 pounds, I wasn’t kidding. He just smiled.

As Chris brought in his light stands and umbrellas, backdrop and camera and commenced to take pictures, Annie acted very strangely. She usually says hello to visitors then lies down, but she kept walking around him and brushing against me. I don’t know if she was trying to protect me or begging for attention, but it was strange.

I wonder. Humans (and some monkeys and apes) are the only animals who bare their teeth when they’re happy. For most critters, it’s a sign of aggression when they’re getting ready to attack. Again and again, even though it felt strange, I forced that smile, showed off my massive choppers. I have seen myself not smiling and don’t like the way I look.

We all want to show up with perfect skin, perfect hair, a slim figure, a perky nose and maybe some dimples. I’m going for “friendly.” Or maybe “interesting.”

We don’t see ourselves the way other people see us. I know that. Other people may not even notice things that look terrible to me. Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I’m horrified. Do other people see that? How can I show my face in public? Of course, it could be the other way around, too. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.

You can’t photograph a soul, a spirit, the essence of who you are, and no, the camera does not kidnap one’s spirit. It only captures the outside shell that holds it.

But if you’re going to be a writer, you have to have photos.

As a reader, I always look for the author’s photo. I want to know what the person who wrote this thing looks like. Frankly, if they’re too attractive, I don’t trust them. So maybe this will work out all right for me.

People are drawn or repelled by pictures. Sitting at my table Saturday at the Florence Festival of Books, I saw very clearly that the front and back covers are the most important things when people are strolling around with a few dollars to spend on books. If the front cover doesn’t grab their attention and the description on the back cover doesn’t make them want to read more, they’re moving on. They’ve got 40 more booths to visit.

If they pause long enough to talk to you, you need to be able to tell them what kind of books you write and what they’re about in just a few words. Do not make people stand and listen to the whole story when they didn’t even ask for it. The man at the next table was great at this. He writes “Humorous murder mysteries” about a professional wrestler turned private detective who runs into Big Foot in the woods while on a case. Who wouldn’t want to read that?

One author said her books are like Clan of the Cave Bear but rated PG. Another said he writes “biker poetry.” Another offers “inspirational nature photo books”.

With my many different kinds of books, I’m still working on how to sum it all up in a few words: true and fictional stories and poetry about childless women living alone on the Oregon coast? No, that’s still too long. Suggestions?

Have you had your picture taken lately? How did it go? Feel free to share your stories in the comments.

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