Category: drama

Hey, Not Too Bad!

Yesterday, as I blathered on and wrote a blog post and then decided I wanted to nab a selfie that

1) didn’t make me look like an old hag

and

2) showed off a rare day when my hair was rockin’ (sadly, it was a one day only event) I found myself contorting, head tilting, and generally being weird.

And that was before I had the camera turned upon myself.

At the end of the day, I’m pretty happy with the selfie that I captured yesterday. Respectable enough. It took a lot of work to get that one decent photo, however.

In snapping my own self, I remembered a tutorial I put together a few years back. I still use all of these tips and tricks. Even when The Good Man grumbles at me while self photographing. (he’s not a fan of the selfie)

So hey, I figured I would share again. Here it is, for your fabulous selfie-know-how edumacation.

Enjoy.

______________________________

Your Mobile Phone Camera And You
Originally posted December 21, 2011

Ok, look. Facebook finally got me. Like a hungry, persistent mountain lion, it pounced on me, grabbed me by the throat and took me down.

Anyhow.

As I’ve been spending more time in the cavernous Facebook labyrinth, and seeing a lot of pages and a lot of faces, I’m starting to notice a trend.

Remember the infamous MySpace pose? That’s the self-photo taken with the camera above you, eyes looking up but chin down. Sometimes called the Princess Diana pose. Yeah, I think we’ve all seen plenty of that pose.

But that’s so over now.

The pose I’m seeing a lot of these days is the in-the-car self-photo.

Yup. Hold the phone way out to one side and snap a shot of yourself in the driver’s seat.

Post it.

Magic.

Look, I fully understand the need to look good in our Facebook profile. An old boyfriend or girlfriend from college might show up or something. None of us wants to look all haggity.

Believe me, I get it.

So what’s with the in-the-car profile photo and how can we make it better?

I will now dig into my deep and (not so) closely held secrets of the art of photography and perform a public service.

Ya wanna know why you like that photo of yourself in the car?

Two words: Natural light.

We ALL look better in natural light. When you are in your car, good ol’ fashioned sun comes pouring in through all the windows. Real sunlight makes you look hot.

I’m not kidding.

So assuming you want to have a nice photo of yourself on your Facebook page without your steering wheel in the background, and assuming you are all alone or too shy to ask for help, and assuming you want or need some advice on self portraiture…..


Here’s Karen Fayeth’s tips for a smoking hot profile self-photo:


Either get outside or if you have a nice sunny spot in your house filled with natural light, go there.

Next, what would be a nice background? How about a wall with a fun pattern or a wood fence with character? Sit down and lean back against it. Sit up straight! No slouchy here because we’ll all see it.

Make sure the sun isn’t shining directly in your face. That will make you squinty. Then make sure the sun isn’t directly behind you. That will make you halo-y and a dark shadow. It works best if it’s a sunny day but you are in shadow, or the sun isn’t directly on you. An overcast day is even better. That diffused light is majorly hot.

Hold your phone camera out at about eye level and a little off center. If you hold it above your eyes, you’ll get that eyes-up MySpace look. If you hold it below, now you are looking down and no one likes a double chin in their photo.

Seriously, no one.

Keep your chin up but not too high. Keep it at normal level as if you are looking straight forward.

Keep your elbow slightly bent. Don’t straight arm it or you will see your arm in the photo. Here’s an example.

Relax your face. Don’t force the smile. Try thinking about something that makes you laugh or smile naturally. Think about that time your buddy slipped and cartwheeled on the ice. Or think about how much your love your kid/spouse/dog/whatever. Something that tickles your funnybone and makes your eyes twinkle.

Look into the lens. Don’t look at the screen. Don’t look off to the side. Don’t look up. Don’t look down. Locate the actual camera lens on your phone and then look that lens square in its little lens eye and snap the shot.

And then another. And another and another and another and another.

Don’t be shy about taking A LOT of photos. You are looking for one good one among the many that make you go “uh, no”. It’s every photographer’s little secret. Take lots of shots.

Wait! Don’t just upload that one photo you like right from your mobile phone to your Facebook page!!!

Pause.

Look at it on a bigger screen. Download it or email it to yourself and look on a regular monitor.

Check out the photo and crop it down if you want. Look in the background ALL AROUND you in the photo to be sure there isn’t something weird going on back there. (be especially alert for dogs pooping, kids barfing, etc. Check out This is Photobomb for a sense of what I’m putting down here. That site is totally not safe for work.)

Then, if you are happy with the photo, go ahead and make it your profile photo.

And wait for the compliments to roll in.

Oh, and one last piece of advise: Fer chrissakes, no duckface!

No photos in the mirror either.



Sooo many things wrong with this technique. Good light though!




Image found all over the web. If it’s yours I’ll gladly take it down or give credit, at your request. Thanks! I found it here.




I’m an Idea (Wo)Man!

Oh yes, I am the rainmaker of ideas here in my place of employ.

The next big thing is what comes tripping off the end of my tongue.

I’m on the cutting edge.

Watch me work:

Yesterday my Boss Lady (who is the Department Big Boss) was in my office. She stopped by to say hi and happy New Year. She was also lying low for a bit as she can barely walk the halls of this place without being pounced on from all directions.

So as we sat and kibitzed, I dropped my next big idea on her.

Me: “So, I saw this info graphic yesterday. It showed that, like, the majority of the country has a ninety percent chance of freezing temperatures.”

Boss Lady (BL): “Yeah, I know, isn’t that crazy?”

Me: “It is…it is…really crazy. I mean…schools and businesses are closed down because of this crazy weather.”

BL: “Really? Wow, I hadn’t heard that.”

Me: “Yeah, yeah…so don’t you think that we should stand in solidarity with the rest of the country and stay home today?”

BL: “…”

Me: “I mean…doing our part as good Americans and all of that.”

BL: “Karen.”

Me: “Yeah.”

BL: “You sit near a window.”

Me: “Yeah.”

BL: “Look out your window.”

Me: “Yeah.”

BL: “It’s 65 degrees out there.”

Me: “Yeah.”

BL: “I can’t really sell a snow day when it’s 65 degrees.”

Me: “I see what the problem is here.”

BL: “What’s that?”

Me: “I need to do a better job of managing my manager.”


The best big ideas are the ones that seem weird at the start. The ideas that are easily pooh-poohed.

The crazy ones.

Sometimes the difference is not in the idea, but how you sell it.

Genius comes in many forms.

I shall continue to make my pitch on this topic as I continue to stand in solidarity with all the poor souls who don’t have to go to work today.

I should be with you. I really should. Here’s hoping my employer can make this right.









Image found here. Check out that page for one school principal’s ritual guaranteed to net you a snow day.




New Year. New Word. Copyright, Mine.

Today’s post is a bit jumbled and haphazard. It began as a free form brain dump (actually, a free association exercise). Letting the brain off the leash is always very telling. Anywhoozle, come along for the ride on the crazy train.


Well, here it is. Long awaited, much anticipated, heavily planned for. The year of our lord two thousand and fourteen.

What shall I make of this year?

To kick the year off in high style, I started out in the small hours of today with a massive migraine. Oh, and it is a beaut. I had the joy of not one but two auras at the same time. Like a double rainbow. Wooow. What does it mean? (reference)

Only not pretty as much as terrifying.

I wish I could say the headache is from the high spirits and revelry of my New Year’s Eve celebrations, but I am afraid that wouldn’t be correct. No. New Year’s Eve was a quiet affair in my home, just the way I like it.

Earlier today I watched a video of an MRI while an aura happened in the brain. It scares the bejeebers out of me. No really, it did. It was crazy to see what the hell is going on in my brain when that happens. Like an electrical storm, actually.

That seems…not good. You know?

So my 2014 started of not with a bang but with a headache. Is that a sign of things to come? An inauspicious beginning to what, for all intents and purposes, looks to be an incredibly good year.

I have no idea. I just know right now, today, my fingers seems not to go *quite* where I want them to go. My eyes are a little sore. My neck hurts. My head hurts. And I am just…off.

Back to the start. Here we are at the beginning. Day one. 365 days lay ahead full of promise and ideas and art and creation and joy and angst and agony and defeat and joy again and more promise.

Sometimes when something starts off inauspicious, it actually bodes well. Early inauspicious is sometimes actually auspicious. Perhaps it feels better to succeed when you have had to scale a mountain at the start. Troubles to solve early on.

I don’t know, I’m working on a theory here. I have nothing to back it up. No science or data. Simply a gut feeling.

But guts and grue and sudden thoughts that enter my head are the most reliable compass I have these days. Oh certainly, the best guides I have found.

Scientists would laugh at me for these ideas, but they are true and they are worthy and they are mine.

All mine.

My words are my own and my ideas, as far-fetched as they may seem, and my personality are mine, mine, mine. Not to be taken away and never to be impinged upon, even when I am wrong, so wrong, utterly and completely WRONGOLONGY.

Wrongolongy. What a great word. I just made it up. It also belongs to me.

Wrongolongy. Copyright © Me, 2014, all rights reserved.

Heh. It’s day one and I’ve already dropped my copyright on something. I’m on a roll.

Oh sheet. I just googled it and someone else seems to have used that word before me.

Blast it!

(edit: Just looked, it turns out that someone used wrongology but not wrongolongy. That N means my © is intact! Yes, yes, yes!! In your face Google. **sashay, shante**)

So I claim my copyright anyway, on these pages. Any reproductions or representations cannot be made without the express written consent of the Office of the Commissioner of the Karen.

Ay god, is this really how I am starting my 2014? By lawyering?

That’s perhaps more inauspicious than a migraine.

Ok. Let’s start again.

Happy First Day of 2014. May every one of the 365 that lie ahead be useful, cheery, meaningful and worth every moment of your time.

Salud!








Image found here.




Made My Own Club. Won Top Prize. So there.

I’ve talked a bit on this here blog about the photography club I recently joined filled with stodgy scientists and photographic perfectionists.

The way it works is that each month we are assigned a theme. We can either submit photos we already have that fit the theme, or it’s highly encouraged to go out and shoot new photos. Most months I dig into my inventory and pull out a couple photos and submit them to be evaluated. Some months I’ll push myself to produce something new, so I often have one new and one previous photo to submit.

This month’s theme is “Holidays” and I didn’t have a ton of photos already lined up and ready to go, so I decided to shoot a couple fresh pictures.

The due date for submitting photos is usually the day of our meeting, but somehow I missed the memo that this month (due to the, um, holidays) the due date is way earlier. I thought I still had this weekend to shoot then upload, but alas, no.

Here is the photo I did manage to shoot and submit:



Image Copyright 2013, Karen Fayeth



Took that while setting up the Christmas tree. Turns out photographing Christmas lights is harder than it looks.

Here is the photo that I shot this weekend and can’t submit. I had this photo in mind for a while, planned and set up the shoot and executed on it. I’m pretty happy with the results.

But sadly, cannot put this in the running for the December contest.



Image Copyright 2013, Karen Fayeth



So pooh on all of this! I made my own club. I have my own contest.

And I win. Yes. I get to win because nanny-nanny-boo-boo.

But seriously…I have to keep a closer eye on due dates.

Whoops!





Both photos Copyright 2013, Karen Fayeth, and subject to the Creative Commons in the right column of this page. Both taken with a Canon Rebel and touched up slightly in Elements.




The Art and Science of Rejection

As longtime readers know, I have been trying for a few years to get my little ol’ words and stories published out into the big, cold literary world.

To that end, I have been using a really lovely submission service to assist. For a fee, these kind folks proofread my work, do market research and help me get submissions out there.

Which means that every three months I go out to somewhere between 25 and 30 magazines and journals, asking them nicely if they will publish my stuff.

What this also means is that I receive piles and piles of rejections. When magazines were still mostly paper submissions (not that long ago, actually), my mailbox would fill up with my self-addressed stamped envelopes returning home with a form letter tucked inside.

Now that most submissions are online, my email inbox gets loaded up with rejections by the dozen. They always seem to find their way to me when I’m having a bad or cranky day and that rejection is like a little sparkly topper on my crap cupcake.

Last time I had a check-in session with my support team at the submission service, they quoted some stats for me. As of a month ago, I had sent out something like 400 submissions, which had resulted in five acceptances. (one of my essays was actually accepted to three places)

What I’m getting at here is that I get a lot of rejections. A lot. And over the course of something like 400 submissions, I have become fairly immune to them. Another day, another no.

I am quite sanguine with rejections and don’t take them much to heart anymore. It’s all a numbers game. My submission service says their long and vast history shows that the average is about one acceptance for every 100 submissions. Average. Which means some people go less than that, and some people go more. But over the course of many quality writers, it takes 100 nos to get to one yes.

Those aren’t great odds.

Early in this past calendar year, I ran across this really funky short story contest. It was being put on by a well-known luxury brand and was open to everyone on the entire globe for stories written in any language.

They offered a prize worth €5,000 (~$7,000USD) and worldwide publication in a new literary collection that would coincide with their new product line. The collection would be sold online and in retail stores around the world.

I was really intimidated by this contest but couldn’t get it out of my head. I hemmed and hawed and finally read all the rules and restrictions. I even searched for and downloaded the special font they wanted submissions to use.

I twisted and agonized and worried over this contest. Then I made a deal with myself. I had to enter. I made myself promise to simply submit a story, even if I knew it was crap. Just…I had to simply write SOMETHING and submit it.

What happened next was just short of magical. I wrote a story that wasn’t crap at all. It was one of those “in the flow” moments where the words poured out of me like clean fresh water and splashed beautifully onto the page.

I sincerely believe it is the best thing I have ever written. I often worry that it is my pinnacle and I may never do better. Then I get mad at myself and proclaim I can probably do better but I will have to work really hard at it.

At about an hour before the deadline (in June), I sent my beautiful little work of art off to the good people in Europe and I walked away.

After 400 submissions and counting, I have learned to send it and forget it.

But I couldn’t forget it. This contest and this story haunted me. I had dreams about it and would catch myself thinking about it with some frequency.

And I knew this was Not Good. Overthinking never comes to a good end for me.

In August when I was on a trip to a family reunion, and I was in the car with The Good Man and my beloved cousin, I brought up the topic. These are two safe and supportive people and I knew I could be completely vulnerable with them.

They heard me out, gave me many comforting words and sagely suggested that I do my best to simply forget it before I made myself certifiably nutty. They had both read the story and knew what I was worked up about, but they also knew I had to let it go. Just let it breathe.

Their words were soothing and I did my best to heed them. I pretty much let go of thoughts of this damn contest and would only think of it now and again when something would remind me.

Well, long way around the barn, last week I got notice from those folks at the lux European brand. I didn’t make it.

Of course I didn’t win. I knew I wouldn’t win. I think somehow I found myself a little too in love with my own story and that blinded me. And hopeful. I was too hopeful.

So yes, I didn’t win and I took it very, very hard. You would think after 395 rejections that one more wouldn’t matter. For reasons I can’t quite articulate, this one really got under my skin.

My callus is not quite strong enough yet, because this one story that makes me actually believe I am a genuine writer (and not a dilettante) can still work a blister on my tender psyche.

I think my cousin (who is also a writer) calls the submission process a meat grinder. Or maybe that’s what I call it? No matter. It is. A meat grinder.

What’s next from here?

December brings the next cycle of submissions through the service I use. I will pull out one of the many stories and essays I have built up and I will edit and sculpt it and I will submit it. Then I will receive another thirty or so rejections.

In 90 days I will submit something else and I will get more rejections and the cycle will continue on, as it should.

And this one really sore spot, the unexpected blister, it will harden with time. It will add another layer to the callus. It will make me that much more resilient the next time around.

To any who might wish to give me the well known platitudes like “Each rejection brings you one step closer!” can hang on to them. 395 rejections and five acceptances mean that I’m well past platitudes. I’m not a newbie. I know what I’m up against.

And I know I wrote one hell of a story. Perhaps one day I will give it another chance to weather the mean old world on its own. But for now I’ll hold it close and hide it away until the owies stop.

It’s an exquisite pain, really. One I have earned.









Image found here.