To be honest, I’m not sure why I’m not skipping right over this author photo bit and moving on to The Four Ms. Bradwells showing up on Amazon. I. Hate. Photos. Of. Myself. For my author photo for my first novel, I went to a swanky photographer who worked with a make-up artist who, among other things, eliminated my freckles and gave me eyebrows. When the book came out, my friends had a wonderful laugh over a game of “Who is the woman in this photo?”
For The Wednesday Sisters, I scheduled a new sitting with a new photographer months in advance … and proceeded to come down with one of those awful watery-eyes, red-nose colds three days before. 
I canceled, and it was going to be some time before I could get on the photographer’s calendar again, so Mac suggested, “Your camera, my hands, in the back yard.” He made the case that if I chose the camera settings – not in his bailiwick – he could keep me laughing, and at least it would be fun. Only a little bit of make-up this time. Flattering red afternoon sunlight instead of six studio lights all trained on my imperfect skin. Something more than four inches between my face and the lens.
And definitely the promised laughter!
We narrowed the choices to a few photos on which a collection of people voted: I voted for the bottom one here, and would not have included the top one in the choices. My husband, my kids, my mom and dad, my agent, and my editor all voted for the top one. My best friend did too, although she did put the one I’d chosen as a second choice.
For The Four Ms. Bradwells, I saw a wonderful author photo a friend had just had done … and somehow heard myself asking my editor if they needed a new author photo. Why in the world did I volunteer for that again?
She came back with, “We all like the one we used for The Wednesday Sisters.” So I guess I’m off the hook until the next book. (But feel free to vote below … for the photo I liked!) – Meg
