So, if you've read these ramblings the past month, you'll know I've been trying to figure out what to do about photos. I definitely knew I wanted to have some professional photos done, because, hey, I'll take all the help I can get. Plus, I've never particularly liked those author photos that are obviously Polaroid snapshots from last Tuesday.

So: last Saturday, I ventured off to Red Lodge with photographer Celia Mangus (celiamangus.com), and we spent a lovely afternoon venturing to various locations and snapping photos of moi. Celia was a joy to work with--I recommend her highly, should you find yourself in Montana and in need of portraits--and had plenty of great ideas.

After going through the photos, I kicked out a number of them in which I was smiling broadly--the opposite of what I'd usually do with a photo. Unfortunately, as I tried to imagine the photo accompanying materials about my book (a supernatural suspense novel, if you recall), a big smile seemed oddly inappropriate. After all, would you want to buy a scary book from a guy with a big cheddar-eatin' grin?

A few of the photos:

I really like this one. Yes, there's a bit of a grin there--difficult for me not to grin--but I love the framing of the shot. Seems mysterious.

Downed timber near Wild Bill Lake. I like the desolate feel of the background.

Yeah, a wee bit of a smile in this one, too. But not too big of a smile--nothing that says "I enjoy writing about serial killers WAY too much."

When you're having your photo taken in a cemetery, I can tell you that people driving by slow way down to check out what you're doing.

Part of the publication process is the "editorial feedback"--the document your editor prepares requesting final changes and tweaks on your book. For many writers, it's a dreaded document, because it outlines what the editor thinks should change. I understand this natural fear. After all, the editor has looked at your precious baby and said the expected things about how cute and adorable she is (the editor has, after all, bought the manuscript), so why would s/he now be talking about the warts? My baby has warts?, you say indignantly. How can this editor say such a thing after he was just raving about her rosy cheeks and angelic smile last month?

Hey, none of us like our darlings criticized.

My editor, Dave, is obviously aware of this. Over the last few weeks, he's sent occasional emails to let me know his editorial feedback is coming--and to let me know it's a document that concentrates on changes, not on the strengths. At one point, he even suggested I should read the feedback, spew out a few appropriate curses, wait a few days, then read the feedback again. (Well, he didn't say exactly that, but it's a close paraphrase.)

Can I tell you I was starting to get a little worried the editorial feedback was going to be longer than my book itself? So when it came, I held my breath, clicked it open, and began reading.

And liked what it had to say.

Does this make me a masochist? A good candidate for Freud's couch? Perhaps. But as I read Dave's editorial feedback (considerably shorter than my novel, I might add), I started to get excited about jumping back into the book again. It has, after all, been some months since I cracked it open. Dave had some great suggestions--maybe even a few bordering on brilliant--so how could I not be excited?

After all, my baby is going to be even cuter now.

I cringe whenever I hear the question. I'm guessing most novelists do. After all, it's no small task, summarizing 90,000 words in just 25. Film folks like to call this a log line, and after approximately 1.7 billion revisions and tweaks, I came up with: "A man who has died and come back to life three times must unravel the mysteries of his own deaths to stop a killer." It gets across the unique hook of the story--a guy who has recurring deaths--and establishes the genre as a suspense/thriller with supernatural elements.

But just try saying it aloud with a straight face. Go ahead and do it now. I'll wait.

See? Doesn't work so well, does it? Especially when you get to that "must unravel the mysteries of his own deaths" part. It reads fine, but it's not exactly casual conversation. So I usually have to re-tool the statement a bit: "Well, it's about a guy who has died and come back to life three times. And he has to find out why he keeps dying so he can stop a killer."

As I say this, I carefully study the faces of the people I'm saying it to, gauging their reactions. By and large, folks seem interested. Still, a part of me wants to keep chugging along: Does it sound too brutal, because it really isn't that brutal, well, okay, it has a serial kidnapper who preys on kids, but none of that really happens on stage, and it's not really ABOUT the serial kidnapper, it's about the guy who keeps having Near Death Experiences, but I don't really like that term, "Near Death Experience," because the guy really DOES die three times, so it's not "Near Death" at all...

I don't envy the people at the publishing house who have to come up with marketing copy for books--especially when they run it by the authors.