I spent a couple of hours yesterday standing still in dirty, dirty alleys while local denizens strolled and bicycled past. And by that I mean they stood and stared from uncomfortably close distances, saying nothing as they smoked or drank from their paper bag-wrapped bottles.
Why, you ask? Was I on some sort of pigeon flu and hepatitis investigative mission? No, or, only incidentally.
That's just what a photo session looks like when you tell the photographer you write urban fantasy and that urban fantasy tends to happen in urban environments and he decides that nothing says "urban" like busted drug vials stuck to the soles of your flip-flops.
It's all very glamorous.
So, we've got dozens of photos to sort through. The general theme is that I tend to look either suspicious or angry most of the time, which of course is just what people want to see staring back at them from the back of a book they've just finished.
We'll see if we can't sort something out, maybe photoshop me a smile or something. And then it will be time to build a website on which to paste said altered photo. So much to do, so many things I'd rather be doing.