I truly dislike photo shoots. The one that I have just suffered through was, in fact, relatively painless. Probably because my husband was the photographer.

Why did I force myself through this dreadful process? Because, dear readers, it’s in my contract that the Publisher has the right to use my name and likeness to promote the new series. Hence the need for a likeness to send down.

We used two alternating cameras, just as extra insurance. Different hairstyles, different clothes, different poses. Glasses off, glasses on.

Now we have three rolls of film to develop (yes, there was one in our camera already, and no, I have no earthly idea what’s on it — oh, wait, Elim (muah-hah-hah), and various Yule celebrations, including the now-traditional shot of myself and Roo. Right.)

I’ll get them same-day processed, then HRH and I will pore over the various shots to choose the three best, and I’ll have them enlarged to 8 x 10 formats. Then I’ll Purolate them down to Boston, accompanied by the signed contracts that arrived in today’s mail.

If nothing else, I’ll have piles of photos to send to my grandmother and my parents and such.