I Dig a Poster (with Charles Hawtry and the deaf aids)

Yep. It's true.

At nearly 48, I have made it. I can die happy.

I may never have another book deal. I may never have fortune and fame.

But, apparently, now, I am a poster*:

*coughs*

It's true. As promo for the Rochester Teen Book Festival (May 19), you can order my author poster and hang 46** year old me on your wall (*more coughing*) like some fading Charlie's Book Nerd Angel.

Thanks to my pal, Rick Kopstein, a fantastic photographer whose work you can see there on that link or HERE on his Photo of the Day website, it's not a bad representation:

Me, in my best light, if you will.

As much as this whole poster-me thing brings me endless amusement, like everything else lately, it's also a mixed bag. It brings up issues for me. Indeed, there something sad and poignant and ironic (?) about it, weighed against my lamentations here of late about loss of youth and physical appearance.

I mean, here's the the new fear brewing: that I will sorely disappoint in person.

And don't start typing comments to make me feel better.

I'm almost 48. It is what it is.

Still, I can hear them now, the slack-jawed rumblings from the twitter and facebook crowd, and others who know me from my author photos, as I walk to the dais and sit down:

Blogger A: "Is that her?"

Blogger B: "Man, that must have been years ago ..."

Blogger C: "Years and years and years..."

Nope. *sigh* Just two. Hey, look, I'm teetering on the brink of 50 here. Besides, it's nothing a little photoshop can't hide.

Anyway, here's the deal. I've decided I'm coming to the festival armed, just in case, with a few 8 X 10's of me now:

Me, this minute, standing at my computer

Plunk me in a pool in the bright sunlight with a good photographer, and I look exactly the same.

*coughs*

Okay, maybe not.

What? There are a few more creases and lines. And, yes, the bags...

Crap.

Poster, anyone?

- gae

*poster is really only an 8 x 10 I think...
**author photos taken 5.8.10

Why is this a theme for me?

So, a few weeks ago, I blogged about the repeat imagery that crops up in my writing (tuna fish and mayonnaise, paper umbrellas, and, of course, water, to name a few).

Yesterday, while I was swimming, I was noticing the themes that repeat themselves in my writing. Themes I seem not to tire of exploring, that creep in, even when I'm not expecting them to -- in both my women's and my young adult novels:

Friendship, and particularly, the betrayal of friends, especially female friends;

Surface beauty vs. inner beauty, and whether you must give up the effort to maintain one to achieve the other;

Marriage and infidelity, and how the latter affects the family unit.

Of course, these themes are universal, so not hugely surprising for me to write about, but still interesting how they always pop up. The first personally affected me -- in h.s. my closest girlfriend betrayed me in a swift, cruel act (that was borne of a moment of weakness on her part rather than sincere, and I long ago forgave, but which certainly shaped me and my trust toward women at that time); the second played itself out over and over in my family growing up; and the third not only is a common issue for anyone in a long-term marriage (mine is going on 17 years...), but is a focus of my "paid job" as a divorce mediator, and before that, a divorce attorney, so permeates my waking life.

What are the themes that drive your novels? Do they crop up time and time again?