I don’t have the budget for professional headshots yet, and I tend to take better selfies anyway. I clam up in a proper photoshoot situation, so the photos always come out beautifully lit but starring an uncomfortable-looking subject.
But still, I decided to treat the occasion with gravitas. I strategically chose an outfit and backdrop with the help of my wife and I planned to give myself ample preening time to get my hair and makeup right. I would put on some confidence-boosting music, maybe pour myself a flute of something fizzy and enjoy the fact that I was taking my author photos.
These are the photos I had been dreaming of, yet failing to envision, since childhood. They had to live up to the decades-long hype.
But when the day came, I was too sick to give myself all the time and luxury I had wanted.
Worse still, I was on a deadline. I was due to appear on a radio show later that week and they needed images for socials. Struggling with nausea and a feeling of general wrongness, I decided to just send a few pics from my phone’s gallery. I quickly got the feedback that they needed something more formal and they needed them within the next hour or so.
My options were to dust off the aging Covid selfie or to power through my illness and take some photos that I’d be happy to use as my official author photos. I opted for the latter, but it was tough.
I had to keep a lined pot on hand in case the nausea morphed into vomiting, but I somehow managed to shower, do basic hair and makeup, get dressed into the pre-determined outfit and take a few passable selfies against a sky blue backdrop.