Admission of guilt

Regular readers are probably wondering if I have any neuroses at all, as I seem to always be declaring that this, that or the other writer’s problem is not my problem. So it’s time to come clean. Becoming a finalist in the University of Hertfordshire Writing Award brought my biggest neurosis to the surface. They wanted a photograph for their press release.

I hate having my photograph taken.

Now that may sound odd from somebody who used to be a model, but it’s not. The point is that I hate having MY photograph taken, because it’s a picture of ME. Being photographed as a model is to enter into a deception with the photographer to produce a picture of an unreal person – it’s a bit like writing fiction actually. You reinvent yourself, rather than characters, and somebody else sets the narrative and location, but otherwise it’s quite similar.
A picture of me though, is somehow meant to represent me – the person. And the reason I write, in part, is to represent, or at least express, myself to the world. And no photograph, no matter how flattering or otherwise, can ever come close to the means of expression I’ve chosen as my own. So having my picture taken causes all kinds of confusion, resentment and fear in my psyche. Hundreds of shots result in one or two images that I can actually bear to look at (although none that please me) and a whole sunny day is wasted as I snap at my nearest and dearest and scowl at the lens.
The me I see has already been taken.
Stephen Donaldson has a wonderful jacket photograph on his Gap series; it shows his head in eclipse, almost entirely in darkness, wrapped (or possibly rapt) in cigarette smoke. It’s like a Leonard Cohen song as portraiture. And that’s how I see myself – and it’s not a bad representation of a lot of my writing which is, as one agent said ‘dark, lovely and unmarketable’ – may she prove wrong on the last one! Sadly though, I’m actually a gerbil-cheeked, rather sweet looking woman, with a completely undistinguished face and a good body for my age.
So, having reduced 137 photographs to two, I am being brave and sharing with you the one I decided wasn’t suitable for a press release – would you buy a novel from this woman? Please say yes …

9 Comments

  1. Anonymous
    3rd May 2007

    Yes 🙂

    I’ve been assidiously destroying photos of myself for many years, pretty successfully. Not too sure why, just have never liked myself in photos.

    Mark

    Reply
  2. Vanessa G
    3rd May 2007

    Of course.

    Anyone who eats pink ice cream MUST be a great writer.

    V

    Reply
  3. McKenna
    3rd May 2007

    Yes!

    It is hard to look dispassionately at photos of ourselves, and I wonder if we even should try to be dispassionate. They do, after all, freeze a moment that is the culmination of all moments before it.

    Your photo is wonderful. Trust me.

    Reply
  4. Anonymous
    3rd May 2007

    Oh dear.

    ‘assidiously’ = assiduously.

    I hate that worse than being in photos.

    Mark

    Reply
  5. Kay Sexton
    4th May 2007

    You’re all very kind. Mark, blog-spelling can be relaxed I believe, like texting, Vanessa it’s even worse, it’s pink frozen yoghurt!

    Reply
  6. B.A. Goodjohn
    4th May 2007

    You know, Hon, I think that’s a very good photo. You look great and approachable. I’d ask you questions at a reading…

    Reply
  7. Anonymous
    9th May 2007

    Unbelievable. 137 photographs? I really think you should worry a little less, this is bordering on self-obsession.

    Reply
  8. Anonymous
    9th May 2007

    PS: it’s a very nice photograph.

    Reply
  9. Mary Akers
    11th May 2007

    Yes!

    Reply

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