First, they put Vaseline on the camera lens.

Next up was rose-colored lighting, shooting through pantyhose and soft focus.

And then, just in time for my first author photo in 2010, came Photoshop.

Few tell the truth, so for the “me-too-ism” of writers everywhere, I offer the unadulterated, unvarnished, un-photoshopped truth. These are the things I did to prepare for my first author photo:

1) Googled ‘how to look good in photos and found advice. Very helpful advice. (Turned it into a how-to.) 

2) Went for a professional make-up ‘consult’ (would that be tax-deductible?)

3) Visited the ‘hair whisperer’ and told him, “Do what you will. Just don’t cut it short.” Which he did. But I loved it. Price: Very high. Satisfaction: Priceless. Cost: if the husband discovered the cost, there could be lawyers.

Don’t even ask about clothes. I bought and returned an entire section of Bloomingdales, and I tried on every combination of outfits and accessories.

My sister Jill Meyers, a person for whom I never have to pretend, is a talented photographer and a super-talented sister. She studied portrait-shooting techniques to make the best author photo, bought the talented Marion Ettinger’s book Author Photo for inspiration, and invested in equipment to make me glow (and look, ahem, less mature.)

Jill did an incredible job. She shot hundreds and hundreds of photos; we reviewed, eliminated, consulted, and polled until we found ‘the one.’ Then she really went to work. With a stroke of her magic computer pen, lines disappear. Adjust the lighting: I warm up, I cool down. I flushed, blushed, and smoldered.

How far could we go? I’d already applied makeup with the skill of Bobbi Brown herself. Per Brown’s advice, I wore the pearl earrings that cast the most glow on my face. I chose the green shirt that matched my eyes (that was, in reality, despite the new outfits, a ragged pinhole-ridden Gap tee shirt; the holes wouldn’t show in the shoulder-up picture.)

Now I had to answer the question: was it kosher to erase my lines? Would it be like using Botox? (Is it cheating to use Botox? Is it less bad to use only Photoshop Botox?) After a second of agonized deliberation, I decided—just a few minor, um . . .. adjustments. The furrows between my brows came from worrying over my children; for goodness sake, I should adore them in sisterhood with mothers everywhere. 

Would softening those badges of motherhood make me a bad person? And what about those pesky forehead lines? The puppet lines by my mouth?

Jill went to work. And I loved the final product. Perhaps too much.

What if my sister had made me look so good that no one would recognize me?

A friend of mine, a lovely-looking woman whose book was about to be sold, vowed to have her picture taken sans artifice so no one would be surprised when they met her. 

I salute her.

And I will never be her.

On the other hand, I dreaded resembling the ever-increasing photos of authors blurred into ghosts of themselves (albeit often lovely ghosts.)

After my book came out, people did recognize me at readings. No one asked me what century the picture was taken.

Okay. Lying. There was one.

(I did promise the truth, right?)

The woman who gave me a facial, the one who stared at me under those glaring lights of truth – she asked when the picture was taken.

Maybe my friend had the right idea. Jill did such a good job with that photo. Fourteen years later, I still worry:

Was it cheating to use a taste of Photoshop? (But everybody’s doing it!)

Next week, I’ll have a new author photo taken—a new book is coming in 2025 (to be announced shortly!), and the need to update (my last one is six-year-olds) is more than evident to me.

But I shall use Vaseline, P-Box, and lipstick. I will probably also wear an old gap tee shirt to have the right color near my face. 

I shall try about a hundred selfies via my MacBook photobooth this weekend. I shall also take ten pictures to my hairdresser when I get my hair cut (oh, and colored). 

I shall try every earring, necklace, and scarf I own to find that pop of color needed by women of a certain age.

And while I will ask my sister to smudge a line or two, I will fight the urge to turn me from this selfie (with good lighting, I admit) taken in October:

Into the below AI-BeFunky Randy. (even though I’m kinda fond of her.)

Into AI-BeFunky Randy