I have certain rituals when I’m choosing the next book to read.

First, I have to like the cover enough to pick up the book. Once I’ve picked up the book, I have to like the blurb about it. Then I open the book and read the first paragraph. If my interest is piqued, I’ll check out the author photo.

I’ll study the portrait. Does the writer look like someone I can relate to? Does he have a nice smile? A sincere look in her eyes? Or at least a good haircut I might want to show to the salon on my next visit? After all, if the author looks like a potential friend, I’d probably be able to relate to his story. Right?

Okay, I know what you’re thinking. I’m aware it sounds a little shallow. Well, a lot shallow. I never said my book selection process was profound, but hey, it works. And what might be a turn off for me? Well, there are many reasons why I’ll reject a book based on the author’s photo:

1. If the writer looks younger than I. In recent years, I’ve had to relax a bit on this one because, well, it’s way too limiting. Still, if an author looks like he’s in his twenties, I’ll probably slam the book down. Why should he have it so easy? When I was in my twenties, I was plagued by self-doubt along with rejection! Why isn’t she? Plus, what could this youngster possibly write about? College pledge week? A first boyfriend? Being grounded?

2. If the author seems too serious and intimidating. You know those pictures–the unsmiling, backlit profile; face deep in concentration, eyes blazing at you. It’s a look that screams, I’m smarter than you and I’m going to allude to those Greek philosophers you only read in Cliff’s Note form. (Joan Didion is exempt from this–because, well, she’s JOAN DIDION).

3. If the photo is too studied. The ones where the author is posed, palm on cheek, head tilted playfully; or she’s learning against a tree, hands on hips, a half smirk. The look that says, I’m trying a little too hard to get you to like me. Or, I hired a professional photographer because my advance was much bigger than yours.

I’ll admit it–I’m a very judgmental person. But you are too. You know you look at that author picture too and decide whether or not you could be friends . And, if you can be friends with the writer, you might want to read what she has to say. Right?

It’s too much pressure. It’s paralyzing, to say the least. I want you to be my friend too. Because, well, I need about 100,000 friends like you so I don’t have to get a real job.

For my latest novel, Pieces of Happily Ever After, Larry (my husband and personal photographer) snapped several photos of me, but it wasn’t working. Every smile felt forced. Every solemn expression seemed pretentious. Every prop was contrived. Larry threw up his hands. “You’re too difficult,” he said. Then he dove into our photo archives. (An excellent photographer, Larry has thousands of photos stored on his computer). He perused photos for hours and came pretty close to giving up.

Then Larry perked up. “Wait a minute, here’s one that will work,” he said, studying it. “And don’t worry. I can photoshop the um…laugh lines.”

I looked at it and I couldn’t help but smile. I remember the day it was taken perfectly. We were visiting my family in Connecticut. My parents, sister and our families went to Essex, a town on the river, to ride the SS. Tourist Trap. My father loves two-plus hour cruises where the captain expounds on the history of every buoy along the shoreline. As the boat was pulling out, Larry and I jumped off. We ran away, giggling while Jeannine, my sister, screamed. “At least take your kids, too.” She tried to feign fury, but I could tell she was just jealous she hadn’t thought of it first.

So Larry and I laughed and waved as the boat groaned along the coast. Then we went to the Griswold Inn, a great, old tavern. We drank beers from frosty mugs, listened to a ragtime band and laughed some more.

As we headed to wait for my family to come off the boat, Larry snapped a photo. I felt happy and free and a little mischievous.

So there. Like me. I’m fun and zany. Be my friend. Buy my book: Pieces of Happily Ever After.

It’s a saying we constantly hear in the brutally honest world of broadcasting, and its one of the major reasons I went into radio.  I was looking forward to just being heard and never seen.  I couldn’t have been more mistaken.

 The internet has ruined the delightful anonymity my broadcasting predecessors enjoyed. 

It turns out people like seeing what their favorite on-air personalities look like (and to be honest, I think I’m much hotter in people’s minds.)   My first “exposure” (pun intended) to publicity photos was during my second radio job in Miami.  I was told that as part of the on-air staff, I was required to get a “head-shot” that would be displayed in the station lobby along with all of the other on-air talent.  The horrified look on my face should have been my head-shot.  I was immediately panicked and stopped eating for 2 weeks until the dreaded day of my first photo shoot.  I know I have that silly picture roaming around somewhere but it’s just too embarrassing to re-live publically.  Picture a much younger, much plumper version of myself, playing “serious grown-up news reporter” in a blue suit, and some ridiculous chunky gold earrings I borrowed from my friend Patty.  (Thanks Pat, your earrings live on forever.)

Years later, I left the serious side of “news broadcasting” for the lighter side of FM morning radio. I got to take a more candid pic, and this was the result.  Why did I look so happy?  I really don’t know.  I was waking up at 3am and stuck in a studio with no windows for 6 straight hours every morning.

This was my next publicity shot, when I was doing a “Daliah-esque” evening “love-songs and dedications” show.  I was happier (since I wasn’t waking up at 3am anymore) and I was definitely more comfortable being in front of the camera.

Not too long ago I decided to set-up a website for my up-coming book, and my genius husband thought it would be a great idea to get some pics taken.  That’s the result of this racier pic.  I’m smiling because I’m stepping on his tie.

And finally, here’s the most recent shot literally taken about 2 weeks ago.  Its for my new show where I have re-united with my first partner (Steve) and I’m so comfortable in front of the lens, I can do it naked!  (Well, not exactly.)  Again, don’t ask me why I look so happy.  I’m waking up at 2am now, and my life has officially gone full-circle.

“Say Cheese!”

And so, appropriately, my first article for Mindful Marketing stressed the importance of chance encounters, because those chance encounters might very well result in mutually beneficial professional opportunities. “Keep taking action,” I wrote. “Increase the odds that your big chance connection will arrive — probably when you least expect it.”

In the language of yoga, we might say that if you open yourself up to the universe, abundance comes pouring in.

In other words, put yourself out there, because you never know where things may lead.

A few months after Megan hired me, I pitched a story to the editor of Yoga + magazine. The editor read my Mindful Marketing clips, then commissioned me to write a feature. So my chance encounter with Megan extended well beyond her e-newsletter; thanks to those clips, I was able to reach a large international audience, and convey an important message about the struggles of combat veterans, and the benefits of yoga.

Another case in point is how I came to find photographer Karl Seifert. This past September, I admired a gorgeous photograph posted by a Facebook friend, Beth, who happens to own the yoga studio next-door to my apartment. Knowing I would soon need a studio portrait for my book jacket, I asked Beth about her photographer. She highly recommended him, and I hired him.

Because I “Friended” my yoga teacher, and because she posted his photographs, Karl’s work (not the above photo; that’s a self-portrait!) and his name will appear on thousands of copies of my book. And it’s anybody’s guess whose hands those copies will end up in.

The story doesn’t end there. Beth’s husband Brett directs my town’s library. My husband Matt gave a talk at the library last fall and donated a portion of his book sales to the Friends of the Library. Brett then asked Matt to appear in a promotional video for a library fundraiser. Matt hired those same filmmakers to create a trailer for his next book, a young adult novel called Sorta Like A Rock Star. One of the filmmakers teaches English at a nearby high school, and he’s now considering teaching Rock Star to his students when it comes out next spring.

Do you have a similar story to share? What chance encounter in your past has led to a mutually beneficial working relationship — or several?

~Alicia Bessette

I wrote about it for my newsletter subscribers a few months ago (what? you’re not a newsletter subscriber? sign up quick – I give away books and Godivas every month!) Here is the tale of that memorable day:

The photographer came over one afternoon during a narrow sliver of time when I’d organized a baby-sitter for my baby and a Wii extravaganza for my older kids. I was showered (a minor triumph), mascara’d, and though I hadn’t managed to squeeze in a haircut or a trip to buy new Spanx, all things considered, I was feeling pretty triumphant about my grooming.

So there we were, me and the photographer, in my backyard, ready to take the picture that would proclaim to readers: See how friendly (but not too friendly, certainly not in a stalkerish way!) and smart (not too smart, though! No threats to you Mensa members here!) this author is? Isn’t her novel just leaping into your hands and compelling you to start reading it?

The problem was, it was hot outside. Brutally hot. And I was wearing a sweater (even I knew better than to trot out my usual summer uniform of slightly stained Old Navy t-shirts).

“Perch on this chair,” the photographer suggested.

I obligingly perched, smiled, and sweated while the camera clicked. After a few minutes, my thigh muscles complained about perching on the edge of a chair and suggested we all go inside for a little restorative chocolate treat.

“You don’t look comfortable,” the photographer said. “Maybe a different outfit?”

I raced inside, changed, came back outside, and posed again.

“Hmm…” Hilary the photographer said. “I’m not sure that shirt is the right color for you.”

Since I know and trust Hilary – she shoots my photo for a magazine column I write – I dashed upstairs again to change. I tore through my closet, which was stuffed with shorts and t-shirts, maternity wear, and a few very outdated business suits. Where were all my clothes? My cute, trendy, flattering clothes? Did I really dress like this? The horror!

“Mom,” one of my kids whined, “can we have popcorn?”

“I’m having a photo shoot,” I said importantly. “You know, for my book.” The kid looked at me blankly.

“The Opposite of Me?” I said. “Due out in March? At bookstores everywhere? Didn’t Mommy teach you to say that whenever possible?”

“He bit me!” came an outraged wail.

“Stop fighting and I’ll take you to the pool in ten minutes,” I lied to my children, whose sense of time is seriously warped from scenarios just like this one.

“I’ve got to go,” the babysitter said apologetically. “I have another job to get to.”

“Let’s put the baby on a blanket outside,” I said desperately. “He can watch the photo shoot.”

“Did you powder your nose? You really should,” the photographer asked, clearly feeling this was no time for subtlety.

I powdered, brushed my hair, threw back my shoulders, and posed again.

“THARM alert!” The photographer shouted.

(A “Tharm” happens when you position your arm in such a way that it appears to be bigger than a typical arm — more like a thigh. Like the Ebola virus and men with bushy toupees, it is to be avoided at all costs).

I shifted, sweated, and posed. The baby rolled off the blanket into the grass. The older kids made popcorn themselves and doused it with a pound of butter. Was the baby eating a bee? Why were the older kids being so quiet inside? And why didn’t I have cuter clothes? Wasn’t it bad enough that I drove a minivan?

“Smile!”

A day or so later, I saw the proofs from the shoot. This is the photo I liked best.

But here’s the funny thing: I realized I’d taken better pictures before. So I searched through my computer to find the one Hilary took of me for a magazine column a while back. I didn’t have on much makeup other than tinted sunscreen, and I was wearing an old sweater – but I’m relaxed and casual, and I think it shows.

Here I am in that photo, in my old green sweater, with my dog Bella. (Er, I’m the one on the right).

So here’s what I learned: When you’re taking a publicity photo, it’s how you feel on the inside that really counts.

What about you? Do you think posed photos turn out better than spontaneous ones? What’s the best picture you ever took?

I also did a shoot (with Helen Bartlett) on the grounds of one of the colleges where the book is set. I made a lousy mess of my hair that morning. I tried hot rollers when my hair was still damp and…well, there are strange cowlicks that emphasize my gray. I also made the mistake of failing to employ a “shaping garment” underneath my sweater. The resulting lumps put a few otherwise good pictures out of the running.  These look a lot more like “me.”

(In that last one I look totally weird but that cool mask in the ivy is arresting!)

In both of these shoots I wore sweaters I bought at the new John Lewis store in downtown Cambridge. (You don’t see much of the sweater in the first pic, but I think its bright blue really adds something.) I’d been in a complete panic over what to wear, and they have an amazing free service where an employee with taste will take an appointment to shop with you. She didn’t pressure me at all, combined my preferences with her experience, and set me up with this sweater in three flattering colors, to go with trousers and a coat I already had. Her name is Dolly and she’s terrific at her job. (Thanks, Dolly!!)

You know something I love about living in the UK? They don’t make fat people shop in fat stores. As much as I like shopping in Lane Bryant back home (they really do have nice clothes), I really would rather have gone into the Limited or Express (which are all owned by the same company as Lane Bryant) and just seen the same clothes in ALL sizes. Why is that so hard?

Here, I can shop in all the big department stores, and not in a plus-sized section, either. I can just walk up to a rack, and they go up to my size. Rule Britannia!

New York Times bestselling author Allison Winn Scotch endorses Deb Sarah’s The Opposite of Me, saying it “hits the delicious sweet spot in its portrayal of a woman who must lose everything in order to find herself.”

When the Debs picked the topic of “favorite online resources,” I bet they were thinking of writing resources.  And, sure, I have some of those.  I love to use the random word and random sentence generators from watchout4snakes to develop prompts for writing exercises.  And when I’m wracking my brain for a good character name, baby name wizard is my favorite, because it not only helps you locate names but names that are appropriate for the age of the character (which boy names were popular in 1953, when the English department chair of my fictional college was born?).

But if we’re being perfectly honest, my favorite on-line resources have almost nothing to do with my writing.  They have to do with my own personal brand of crazy.

Hello, my name is Wendy, and I’m a hypochondriac.

My husband says it’s charming (one of the many, many reasons I love him), but I know different.  It’s annoying.  Can I tell you how nuts I made my coworkers when the anthrax scare was in full swing?  Particularly since I worked for the federal court system at the time.  Every sniffle, every tickle in my throat, every incipient headache, and my personal threat level hit red.  And don’t get me started on being a teacher during these days of H1N1.  I have seriously considered buying surgical masks and latex gloves to wear on campus.  If I can find them in pink, I may yet.

It should come as no surprise, then, that my favorite on-line resources are webmd and mayoclinic.  Two words:  symptom checkers.  I have a mysterious pain in my big toe?  What could it be?  How could I find out?  Or that weird bump on my earlobe?  Hmmmm.

I console myself with the knowledge that my WebMD consultations save me a small fortune in doctor visits (and keep my doctor from screening my calls).  Still, I know it’s unhealthy to spend so much time obsessing about the daily aches and pains that plague us all, especially as we “mature.”  And, bottom line, that weird bump on my earlobe has been there for at least twenty years; if it hasn’t killed me yet, I can probably safely ignore it.

But until my friends and relations install Net Nanny on my laptop and block the medical sites, I will keep visiting them.  And clicking through until I know the differences between the four types of porphyria (none of which I actually have) and the various home treatments for arthritis (which I may have, if my self-diagnosis can be trusted … which it cannot).

The really cool thing?  The fascination with these sites is fed by my crazy, but it actually does, on occasion, pay off in my writing life.  I’ll stumble across a little factoid about sensitivities to certain drugs or symptoms of poisoning that mimic common illnesses … just the sort of trivia that makes a mystery author’s life a little easier.  In fact, I don’t want to say too much, but one of those little tidbits of information became a crucial clue in my current release, I Scream, You Scream.

So tell me . . . what are your vice sites?  Celebrity gossip?  Fan fic sites?  And what are the hidden virtues you find there? Leave a comment and you’ll be entered into a drawing for a copy of Wendy’s book!

Now, I know what you’re thinking…”Boy, she’s perfected procrastination to a fine art, hasn’t she?” Yes, yes I have. But that’s another post entirely. Now I am going to tell you how this wonderful little resource can help you as a writer. At CDP, you can also search for specific places. So if you want to know what Gresham, Oregon (the setting for most of Restoring Harmony) looks like, well, click on this link. I used to live in Gresham so I’m pretty clear on what it looks like. However, if one of my descriptions needs a little boost, then I can go back and have a look at these photos. Always dreamed of going to Paris? Well, here’s your chance (you can also go to Paris, ME with that link).

Or let’s say you want to see something you’re reading about. Like…never been to Deep Valley, Minnesota where the Betsy-Tacy books by Maud Hart Lovelace are set? Well, no one has because she made up Deep Valley, but you can check out a bunch of photo blogs of Minneapolis where Betsy lives in the last book. You can go to Scotland or South Africa, to middle America, and you can even start your own photo blog if you’re so inclined. In fact, this photo blog is special to my heart because it is my husband’s and it’s of our island. Want to know what Molly’s world looks like? Well, I expect that even though my book is set in the future, her island will probably look a lot like this (the photo in this post is by my husband, Victor Anthony, for his blog).

I will leave you with a most amazing story that happened to me BECAUSE of CDP, two photographers, some lucky shots, a musician in the right place at the right time, and what can only be considered destiny. However, it’s a long-ish story, so in the spirit of this week’s topic, I give you this link.

Where are you going today?

That’s the website I visit most frequently these days in my eternal search for some valuable  personal time friggin peace and quiet.  It keeps my son busy and that’s all that matters.

 As I review my lengthy list of online “favorites,” I also stumble upon www.xanax.com. I am reminded of some unpleasant visits to a few licensed professionals shrinks…but things start to get foggy, so let’s get to the next item.

 Since I’m in the “radio biz,” I’m OBSESSED with new music, so I spend lots of time listening to illegally downloading ( me?? NEVER!) fresh samples on various sites, and reviewing breakout artists with a truly original sound  to offer.

For some reason, I find myself visiting www.cdc.gov  almost on an hourly basis, checking for swine flu updates.  You see, “Manhattanites” are especially concerned with contamination because GODFORBID you get sick, get someone else sick, and ruin their perfectly lovely Thanksgiving trip to Vermont to hit the slopes and take in large doses of vitamin water.

Oh, here’s one site I especially love!  In the quest to market my book’s website www.101WaystoTortureYourHusband.com  I stumbled upon one of the coolest websites ever: www.zazzle.com.  There, I was able to custom design some t-shirts for the book merchandising line I created called “Team Torture.” My radio pal, and good friend Julie suggested I make a t-shirt that simply says “Husbands Suck” featuring a picture of a lollipop to enhance the logo.  It will soon be available for your wardrobe enhancement.   Thanks zazzle!   

(Disclaimer: no lollipops were harmed during the t-shirt creation process.)