A few months ago, a photographer friend came to my house to take some high-quality shots of yours truly. I generally loathe having my photo taken and loathe even more looking at those photos. More often than not, what I think I’m projecting to the world doesn’t quite square with what has been captured with angles and light. It’s humbling.
I took a little more time trying to hide the shadows underneath my eyes. I even pulled out the mascara and some eyeliner, two tools that live comfortably at the bottom of my makeup bag. For a few moments, I wondered if I should have done something about the salt and pepper look of my hair, but it was too late. If I squinted my eyes, I looked good enough.
The photographer arrived. We hugged and got down to business looking for the best places in my home to get what we needed. I nervously joked with her just a little bit.
“Hey, Barbi, can you make me look forty?” We laughed and just got the job at hand done. I waved at her as she backed out of my driveway with my fingers crossed that there would be at least one shot I felt confident about. This photo wasn’t for the family holiday card or my LinkedIn profile.
For this shot, the stakes were a little higher: I needed it to promote my first novel. I’m closer to 60 than 50, and I just signed a contract with a publisher for a three-book series. My path to publication has not been linear, but I would not change a thing about it. Not one thing.
I have been writing professionally my entire life. I’ve written articles, features, theater reviews, essays, blogs, a column, press releases, annual reports, the whole works since I was in high school. My first pass at the novel about to be released was scratched out with a pencil and a stack of yellow legal pads when I was in my late thirties and in the full throttle of working and raising my family.
When you have three kids, a husband, and two dogs, doing something lofty like writing a book feels self-indulgent. I don’t think anyone was neglected while I did this, but there were times when some kind of witness protection program sounded worth exploring.
I worked closely with an editor, and even pitched the book to agents, getting close to the next step a time or two, but life got in the way. I shelved the book and got on with my other priorities, hoping there would be a season to come that had more room for creativity, a little more time to do what I wanted to do. I’m here to tell you that this has not happened.
I still work full time. Our nest has been sporadically empty, but not in a permanent way just yet. I have been on standby for aging parents, have a yard full of leaves that need raking, and somehow, I’m still responsible for what people are eating next in our home. Let’s just say I am still needed in ways big and small.
Lately, I started putting writing back on the to-do list because it’s fun. One of my writer friends once compared her own relationship with writing to escaping away to meet a lover. I totally relate. Writing is my idea of a good time. I’d pecked just enough short stories together last year that I decided to reach out to my first editor.
He was happy to hear from me, and to read what I had. He encouraged me to pull out that first novel I started 18 years ago and shake off the dust. We both read it again, agreed that it needed a tweak here and there, but still had legs. He suggested that the other two short stories I’d sent him, combined with the first novel, had the makings of a good series. This time, the agent search was easier. We put together a solid pitch, and before I knew it, I had contract.
I think what spurred me to start sneaking away again, to reach back out to the editor, to just take a shot was less about pursuing a goal, and more about seeking joy. When I’m writing, I’m more generous and interested in others. I watch people more intently, think about where they have been and where they are going. I have more discerning eyes and ears than I did back when I started telling this story.
The photos for the book promotion came back. I don’t look forty anymore. I look about my age, and it’s working for me.
Anne Shaw Heinrich lives in Kirkwood, MO. Her debut novel, God Bless the Child, will be released in June 2024. It is the first in a three-book series, The Women of Paradise County, to be published by Speaking Volumes.
To learn more about Anne, visit anneshawheinrich.com.
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