Got an interesting email today. It was from Harcourt. They'd like to arrange a photo shoot of me here in Austin. As you might've guessed, a brotha kinda liked that. I'm flattered, honored, supercilious, ghetto fabulous, you name it.
Thing is, I'm not photogenic. Cameras aren't very nice to me. Publicity photos, such as the one in the upper right hand corner of this blog, have the benefit of being retouched in Photoshop. That melanin pigment on the white of my right eye? Gone! with a single click of my mouse. Sweaty nose shine? Gone! Bad afro day? Fixed! Grey hair? Dyed, but sometimes the grey hairs get photographed anyway, but — gone! I won't have any control over a photo taken by someone else, and when it comes to photos of myself, I'm a control freak.
I've welcomed them to send a photographer, of course, however, I've requested to see the photo first. No kidding. One time, a pretty nasty photo of me ran on the inside cover of an anthology, and I about died every time I opened the book, partly because it was the 80s, and I was wearing a bad Michael Jackson hairdo, but mostly because it was just plain ugly.
Now, stop laughing at me.