I wonder if “camera shy” is an anachronism. It’s hard to imagine anyone under thirty being camera shy. A generation born with the camcorder and raised on increasing megapixels and direct-digital recording to the extent that pictures and videos are routinely recorded by telephones (!) and placed on a global bulletin board, a generation whose fawning and narcissistic Baby Boomer parents insisted on recording every diaper change and Gerber’s yark before handing that torch off to the kid’s own grasping hand — camera shy? Yehright.
So perhaps I set myself on the other side of some techno-immersive media-chic line of demarcation when I say that I am camera shy.
Well, not camera shy. More like camera conscious. When I know a camera is pointed at me I get self conscious. Either my face tightens up or I start to mug — the headshot equivalent of William Shatner’s acting.
Mostly this isn’t an issue. The world isn’t really clamoring for artful pictures of Steve obscuring famous landmarks, or looking all writerly and authoritative on a convention panel, or whatever. But then there’s the issue of the Author Picture. Publishers want a picture of you on the book jacket, especially if it’s a hardcover, and when you promote the book you want a good headshot for interviews. Then it’s an issue. Mostly because very very few people can get a good picture of me. It’s not their fault; some of them are very talented photographers. It’s that camera-conscious thing.
Now here’s the deal. I’ve gotten to where I want my Author Shot to reflect the book it’s on. To be similar in mood and theme. Because of that, and because I seem to change my look a lot, I want a different author shot for each book.
Enter Ken Mitchroney. He’s been my friend for 28 years. I could write a book about him, and if he isn’t careful, I will. Ken is a director, animator, comic book publisher, modified sportsman-class race car driver, pinstriper, car customizer and pinstriper, friend of and collaborator with the legendary Ed “Big Daddy” Roth, railfan and classic locomotive restorer, steel guitar player, official illustrator for the Oakland A’s and the Baltimore Orioles (he redesigned their logo a few years back), and god knows what else. I have been blessed with great friends with whom I have had the good fortune to work on a number of memorable and creative projects, and Ken is most definitely one of them.
Ken somehow manages to take good pictures of me. He took the author shot for Elegy Beach (the same photo session that yielded the shot on my writing website banner, as well as one of the main shots I used on my podcast newsletters for a long time). So I asked Ken if we could do a shoot for Mortality Bridge. “Sure,” he said, “it’ll be fun.”
I’d planned to come down to L.A. and get some shots in some of the locations in the novel. Then Subterranean moved the pub date up from November to July and I needed to get some shots fairly soon. “No problem,” sez Ken. And next time he comes home to the Bay Area he takes me to the Point Richmond Ferry Tunnel. Which was perfect.
As a director Ken’s very aware of the ambient light throughout the day, and we got there in the late afternoon when the tunnel’s textures would really pop. We took a ton of pix, but it soon became evident what the best location was and we concentrated on that. Cars zooming by and honking in the tunnel, pedestrians and cyclists streaming across the walkway, and us grabbing as many shots as we could in between. Ken saying, “Follow my finger. Don’t look that way, look over my shoulder. Chin up. Smile. Not that much. Hold that.” Click click click.
I mention all of this not out of egotism — believe me, when it comes to photographs of me I got nothing to be egotistical about — but because author pix are one of those things you see all the time but maybe don’t think so much about (and I see a lot of author pix that I don’t think the author thought so much about, either), and it seemed worth talking about what goes into getting one. For me, anyway.
You run all over the location and take about 100 pix to find the 4 or 6 that really stand out. You crop them to accentuate the composition. You color correct and sharpen. You try them in black & white and adjust light & contrast. You bother the crap out of friends like some ophthalmologist (“Better this way, or this way?). Then you pick one and send it off. And with any luck the other contenders can be used as publicity stills.
Here’s the one we picked for the Subterranean Press dust jacket of Mortality Bridge.
