I left my cave today and ventured into the world. I scheduled an appointment to go to a studio to have a headshot taken. It was an odd experience, explaining to people that I’m an author. Though it still feels like it’s a HUGE fib…but regardless that’s why I needed professional headshots.
I started off the experience chatting with the photographer. She was a personable woman, and we got to talking about art. She explained that she was never good at traditional artwork, couldn’t draw or anything, but she always liked creating things. Her mother was an artist so unlike a lot of families it was pretty much in tradition to work in the arts.
Rather than be put off because she couldn’t paint, or draw, or sculpt, she found an outlet that worked for her. I loved her view of photography which was that she got to create the scene she wanted, make the art, and then take a picture to capture her vision. I guess she sees that as an easy way of creating the world she envisions.
I personally think taking a picture is very much its own skill since I take awful photos. I thought mine were the worst until I tried to get my husband to take pictures of things…at least I can get the subject properly in the frame.
But I guess we all create worlds in the ways we are able.
Anyhow, the whole thing made me think about why I got into writing. It’s because I’m a control freak. I need things to be my way all the time.
What better way to control the world than to write your own from ground up? When you make a world, you get to make all the rules. There are two suns if I say there are and if I say the water is red who are you to tell me differently?
It would have worked if it weren’t for the darn characters. Little did I know that characters never listen. Like children.
But I got to choose from a bunch of amazing photographs. Talk to some people outside my home (which for a cripplingly introverted recluse like me is a significant event.) At the end, one of the employees said, “I have a friend who would be so jealous of you.”
That was staggering. My first thought was ‘why?’ But then I thought back to all the years when being published at all was just this dream. And I conceded the point internally. I may not be like the photographer who’s making a living with her art…but I am blessed.