Picture This by Andy Scheer

The author photo you send makes a statement about you—even before the recipient opens the document. The simple fact of how you label the file sends a message about your professionalism.

Am I overstating the issue? Just ask any periodical or compilation editor. Or anyone in a publisher's marketing office.

A Tale of Five Photos

Today for the publication I edit, I received five photos. Only one showed true professionalism; the other four were typical. And this was before I opened the files.

IMG_5159.jpg
Is anything right with this image?

The quality of the first image was laughable. Intended as a headshot, the image was taken horizontally (“landscape” rather than “portrait”). Standing against a harshly bright outdoor background, the person's face was in deep shadow, with a pole in the background emerging from her head.

The image forced me to ask the author for something else. Surprisingly, the replacement was focused, correctly exposed, and taken against a neutral background. It was still a horizontal, but the 3MB file size allowed me to crop a head-and-shoulders image.

Two other photos were simply adequate. They weren't awful, but they didn't communicate that the writer really cared.

In all fairness, the fifth photo set the bar high. A studio image, its lighting was flattering and the image was crisp and tightly cropped. The subject, who speaks professionally to promote her writing, wore a scarf that matched the background color. Nothing in the image was over the top. It quietly said, “I'm a professional.”

What's in a File Name?

The file name of the fifth photo made me expect something good. The name of the image, from Ima Writer, was “Ima Writer 2013.jpg.” I was dealing with someone who cared to make things efficient for an editor. She knows what it's like to search a folder of anonymously tagged files.

The other four photos, two from “from Wanna Bee,” were labeled: “bookcover mug.jpg”; “newWBmug.jpg”; “#0053.jpg”; and IMG 0058.jpg.” Enough said.

You Don't Need a Studio

Producing an adequate author photo doesn't take a trip to a studio. With a bit of planning and a digital camera, you can achieve a photo that’s fine for publication. Just make sure you, and the friend who takes the photos, follow these tips.

1. Dress appropriately. Your appearance should say you’re a professional.

2. Stand in open shade, not facing the sun or with the sun at your back. This prevents harsh shadows or glare. If the camera has a “fill flash” option, try it.

3. Check what’s in back. Stand before a plain, uncluttered background—one not the same color as your outfit or that doesn't clash. Avoid the “tree-growing-from-the-back-of-your-head” syndrome.

4. Step away from a wall—if you take a photo inside. The flash will cast a harsh shadow behind you. Stand six to eight feet from a wall (and make sure it’s plain).

5. Turn the camera sideways and zoom in. Unless the publisher requests an “environmental portrait” that shows you at work, use a telephoto setting and take vertical “head-and-shoulders” shots.

6. Use the camera’s “portrait” setting.

7. Don’t settle for the first try. Taking extra digital images will yield better results. Try several poses, with multiple shots of each. Then send only the best one—clearly labeled.

Hello Marie – I Mean Richard by Andy Scheer

The other day I got a query about a novel from Marie. I knew it was from her because that's the name that was displayed in my email folder. And that was the name that accompanied the email address at the top of the letter.

As I read the query, I envisioned how this female writer would handle the male POV character she described, especially considering he was a soldier during wartime.

Then I got to the closing paragraphs--and discovered the person writing me was actually a retired police office named Richard who lived with his wife, Marie.

Oh!

I had to recast my impression of everything I had read in the letter. Especially my view of the author's professionalism.

How hard is it to get your own free email account through Yahoo! or G-mail? Yes, my wife and I share several email accounts—but not the ones I use professionally.

Meanwhile I've added to my list of writing pet peeves. One is a dramatic scene that, without warning, turns out to be only a dream. My new pet peeve is wanna-be writers who identify themselves one way with their email account—then pull a switcheroo.

Please, remember what you learned in kindergarten: Put your name—your own name—on the top of your paper.

Please Follow the Directions by Andy Scheer

First thing this morning I rejected three inquiries from people who wanted to be my clients. They made my choices easy.

While none of the projects were in genres I felt well-positioned to represent, that's not what made my decisions easy. None gave more than a hint of having read and followed the directions.

The Hartline Literary website details what we need to see from a potential client. It spells out the vital elements of a book proposal. There's a reason for such specificity. Without a complete picture, we can't correctly assess a project's potential—and neither can a publisher's acquisitions editor.

I just returned from the annual convention of a book collectors group. In my five years with them, I've gotten to know the people—and what to expect from them. Some I can count on to do the right thing. I enjoy being around them and try to help them if I can. Other think they deserve special privileges. I try to be polite, but ...

I was reflecting on that convention experience as I reviewed this morning's emails.

One person concluded her query by asking if I'd like to review the full manuscript. (Nope. If I were interested, I'd like to study her proposal.)

The next (a retired CIA agent working on a spy novel) sent his resume in the hope I'd take him on as a client. (I told him to wait until he'd finished his novel, then send a proposal for it.)

The third, who'd written a combination memoir/devotional, send three attachments: a table of contents, three chapters, and a sample devotion. All important elements, but lacking key ingredients—especially in a buyer's market.

Maybe they are fantastic potential clients—just too new to writing to know the expectations. So in my responses I tried to educate them. But I'd rather work with someone who comes across as a serious professional.