It is time for me to start thinking about my author photo. I’m not a big fan of my own face, but apparently I’m not going to get away with just submitting a picture of my formidable back musculature.
As always, I turn to you, fine readers.
I’ve recently taken some photos. It’s probably going to have to come from this batch.
What can I say? I wanted some truffles and couldn’t find any.
This isn’t my finest moment, but it does a rather good job of illustrating my unchecked aggression when I am feeling frustrated and entitled.
And it uses my scary white left eye to great effect.
I can’t remember if this is a picture of myself or Terry Goodkind, but it feels right. But then, when does a spandex turtleneck feel wrong?
It sure was dark in that room. Good thing I, or he, had my, or his, sunglasses.
A shot of me during my off-season diet. Demonstrates both my glossy pelt and my commitment to mass. And my love of sloth.
If I had better dental care I would go more often, but I don’t, so I won’t. I do have to say that the day they took this picture, I was registering some cataclysmic personal records in hind-legs kicking force.
I’d be leaning towards this one, but it’s not quite happy or sweet enough. And there are too few stars and giggles and rainbows for anyone to really think that this photo really says “Now that’s what Josh Hanagarne is all about.”
I can’t really remember what was going on this day, except I had decided to look down at the world through some clouds. There was a cameraman down there on stakeout; he snapped this before I could fly away.
So, that’s the first batch. I don’t know what to do.
Guide me. Steer me. Grant me your wisdom, O reader. I don’t want to blow the book deal by selecting the wrong photo.