Daily life of a multi-pubbed author
The English interviews are always done by email, and I send my press photos with them.
The Dutch newspapers however, always talk to me in person, and they make their own pictures to accompany the articles.
Today is picture day again.
The newspaper photographer calls to tell me I write the most wonderful beach and vacation novels, so he thinks the woods near the sand drift (we call them Dunes) set the best location for a marvelous pic.
He asks me to take lots of books with me, to give readers the right feeling.
Since he doesn't tell me how many books are needed, I fill a huge heavy box, and manage to charter my hub to carry them for me.
The novels, hub and I meet the photographer near the yellow Dunes, and the three of us make our way to search for the perfect spot.
At the fist step my sandals sink into the loose sand and I know I've made a terrible mistake by wearing open shoes.
Yet, these shoes are all have, so they'll have to do.
We drag ourselves up a sandy hill, and the photographer points at some thorny briars on top.
If I'll sit down between the thorns, he'll make the best picture ever.
I install myself as far away from thorns as I can, hub gives me some novels, and with a beaming smile I start 'reading', trying to show the cover in the best possible way.
Within half a minute I get severe cheek cramps, but I must keep on smiling while the photographer takes all the time he needs to make several pictures.
I can assure you, dear reader, that's a hell of a job.
At last he's done, but when I heave a relieved sigh, and get to my feet, I find out the tortune session has only begun.
There must be an adorable tree somewhere around, and he wants to take some pictures over there too.
Trudging through the loose sand, we come across a barbed wire fence. At the other side the photogenic pine tree makes eyes at us.
What can be done?
Climb the fence.
The two men have no problem at all, but the barrier is much too high for me.
All I can do, is lie down in the sand and trie to get underneath it by snaking. Am I lucky I've put on my jeans!
When I've conquered the fence at last, there's sand everywhere. On my face, in my hair, in my clothes...
We reach the tree and the photographer asks me to climb in.
Huh? Climb the tree? He must be kidding!
Too bad... He hasn't been more serious in his entire life. :-)
I take a deep steadying breath, climb the tree and, in an elegant way, I nestle myself on huge bough.
Little spouts of sand dripping down from my back and shoes, and desperately trying to keep my balance on the narrow branch, I force a beaming smile and start 'reading', while the photographer shoots the winning World Press Photo 2006.
:-) Anita Verkerk.