Photo Shoot

My book is at print and arriving SOON. The holdup has been some minor, last-minute edits and, my biggest issue, the “head shot.” Ugh.

As a teenager, I used to not be afraid of being noticed, standing out, being different. I’d jump in front of a camera anytime, anywhere, blithely unaware of how the shot came out because the evidence wasn’t revealed for at least a week. I was a theatre girl. I wore hats of all types with abandon. Life was just one big costume box to be explored.

But then, motherhood came and my role became the gal behind the camera ... in a t-shirt and yoga pants. I kind of lost my photo mojo.

And so, when the subject of a photo shoot for my book came up, my daughters had a bit of an intervention with me. It was like an updated, more humiliating version of the high school senior photo shoot from 1982. “Mom, you are pretty woman,” they said to me. “But your photos don’t look good because you’re not posing right.” They proceeded to stage a sample photo shoot with me, coaching me on where to look. “Look up, but not like that.” “Smile, but not too hard.” Or, “Smile with your eyes.” And then, “Mom ... you’ve got to stop talking.”

That’s the other thing ... most of the photos of me are awful because that moment just as the photo is being taken makes me so nervous. That silence when everyone is holding their stomachs in the lifting their chin? Hate it. Cringe. It all feels so ... fakey. Consequently, I am always the dolt in the shot who is in mid-sentence, talking, looking the wrong way or blinking when everyone else is paying attention, looking forward, and taking a decent photo.

But, no more. I need my children and someday, grandchildren to know that, you know, I had some good hair days. I am committed to at least trying to pose, smile, lift my damned chin (but not too much) and have a halfway decent, not completely horrible photo. Yes, Millennials, I know that photos can be edited, but who has time?

My sainted mother was quite photogenic ... or at least that’s what the record shows. I know for a fact that she would often either rip up any photos that were unflattering or cut herself out of them, leaving the photo to look like a hastily edited ransom note. I guess she was ahead of the curve on the whole photo editing thing.

So, I a am proud to say, thanks to the talents of photographer Tom Kondilas (and a tiny shot of tequila), I have some actually nice photos and head shots that I am proud to share and include in my book, What the Farm? Not sure if I look like an “author” or not ... but at least I am not talking or blinking.

What the Farm? Poignant & Profane Stores from My Unplanned Life is coming soon!

Just Keep Swimming

I just completed a wonderful beach vacation where I was fortunate enough to go scuba diving with my husband, my best friend and her husband in gorgeous Caribbean waters. Unlike my mermaid friend who honestly is in, on, under, through or around water pretty much 100% of the time, scuba diving does not come naturally to me. Even though I am a certified diver, every time I go diving, I get into an anxious state: Will the seas be rough? Will I get seasick? Do I remember how to dive? Will there be sharks? Anything else scary? Will there be a strong current?

We get up early on dive days, and I make sure to eat a big breakfast to assuage any seasickness, I lather on all that sunscreen. Oh, and I’m a morning pooper, so got to do that as well. And I’m a nervous pooper, so there are many bathroom visits before rushing out the door. I don’t move fast in the morning either, so it’s all a bit unnerving for me.

But I do dive ... I make myself get to the back of the boat, don all that ridiculous gear, breathe in, breathe out, take the step into the water – SPLASH!  -- and then … it is lovely, serene, colorful, fascinating, beautiful.  

The thing about scuba diving is that it really forces you to be “in the now”, in the moment. All the troubles and worries of the day, of life, necessarily are pushed aside because all your attention is on breathing, watching, being vigilant on your air consumption, your dive buddy, your depth. Oh, and sharks. It was nice to be down there, away from my worrying and fussing about the how-to’s of publishing, my self doubts and all that crap.

Coming up from deep blue, watching my bubbles rise above me, it occurred to me that this book project I’m working on is much like my diving expeditions. It is unnerving, going off into new territory. It is scary, not knowing exactly what lies beneath the surface of this whole endeavor. And it’s a bit nauseating. Will I be ridiculed? Humiliated? Embarrassed? Will the seas of social media be rough? Will there be sharks out there?

Maybe ...

My hope is that instead, I will find all sorts of new experiences through this process: connect with other colorful writers, relate with lovely readers, and get beautifully inspired. So, I’m fighting through the nausea, looking forward to an upcoming meeting with my editor (keep breathing, keep breathing) and another meeting with a graphic artist to talk about cover designs. Eeep! The biggest shark in the water that worries me is the – gulp – “author photo shoot.” God help me, I am a spaz at getting my picture taken. If I can just stop chatting with the photographer and hold a pose for a second, we might get a decent shot.

Sigh ... The only way forward is through. Right?

Breathe in, breathe out, take the plunge ... SPLASH!

I’ll keep you posted on how it goes!

Thanks for reading my stuff!

Love,

Mary

Popping Off

Lots of people have been asking me lately, “Are you still writing?” I am! Just quietly, for now.

Over the past year, I have been learning a lot about the process of bringing my blog writings to a book. I've talked with a creative coach, who referred me to a book coach, who worked with me to craft a business plan, complete with “mission statement,” “vision statement,” “elevator pitch” to use as tools as I move forward. Everyone keeps telling me that I need a social media presence (insert groaning sounds here).
 
I have experience in public relations, marketing, and promoting OTHER people and causes, but I’ve gotta tell you ... the idea of promoting MYSELF makes me feel like a precocious seventh grader. So, I’ve been avoiding the issue. I’ve been editing my writing, meeting with an independent editor for input, writing some new content and only doing the social media thing in fits and starts. 
 
Back in October I worked up the nerve to attend the Erma Bombeck Writer's Workshop in beautiful Dayton, Ohio, which was fabulous. There, again, they kept talking about the importance of “engaging your audience” (see this letter), creating and nurturing a social media presence to establish and promote your brand, blah, blah, blah. Ugh, I could not get away from this task, looming over my head!
 
And then, all of the sudden, I became viral. Not in a Covid way or even RSV or the flu. I am – brace yourself – trending on Instagram.
 
Let me explain: 

The day before Thanksgiving, I was given package of chestnuts by our friend who has thing for these odd little nuts. He even planted a few chestnut trees on our farm. He gave me a quick rundown on how to roast them. First you soak them, then you put them into a 350°F oven ...“Yeah, sure. I’ve got it. Thanks!” I said dismissively. How hard could it be?The next day, my husband, the Host with the Most, and I had family over for Thanksgiving, per usual.
 
Weeeelll .... I obviously missed a crucial step on those chestnuts. The next evening, just as my whole, beautiful Thanksgiving dinner was coming to a crescendo, I started hearing muffled popping noises coming from my oven. Eager to take a peek at what I expected were my chestnuts gently opening, I opened the oven and this happened.
 
It was mayhem. And hysterical, to say the least.
 
It turns out, as you can hear my husband, The Big Nut, reprimanding me in the video, I was “supposed to crack them before putting them in the oven.” Of course, every 20 something in the house whipped out their phones and recorded the incident. Next day, my daughter, who is savvy at these things, helped me post it to social media.
 
And then it happened. I went viral.That stupid video with me cackling and the chestnuts going off like little bombs started flying through the social media sphere. As I write, it is up toover 3.7 million viewssince it was posted the day after Thanksgiving. Incredible.
 
So, my daughter took my hand and helped me crafta follow up video.
 
So, all this is to say ... what, exactly? I don’t really know. I still don’t know what I’m doing with social media ... but I guess I’ll just keep at it as I work to get the book version of What the Farm published and publicized.
 
Thank you so much for reading my blog and for your support and kind words over the past 5 years of its existence. If you don’t mind, I’ll keep you updated with occasional status reports on my progress on all fronts.
 
In the meantime, ... beware the chestnut!!!
 
And Merry Christmas!
 
Love,
Mary