1/ A story.
I have known Lylah Rose Wolff since she was a little girl who was frequently up to her elbows in a craft of her creation. She is trying to look fierce in that first photo, which I snapped in the late ‘90s during a painting project in my home.
I have known Lylah Rose Wolff since she was a little girl who was frequently up to her elbows in a craft of her creation. She is trying to look fierce in that first photo, which I snapped in the late ‘90s during a painting project in my home.
2/ Lylah was such a kind and whimsical child, and had the habit of suddenly sitting next to me on the couch, on the floor, on our front porch to ask questions that launched my mind into flight. I remember just one, because I wrote down our exchange in a notebook:
3/ “If you didn’t know my mom, would you still have found me and become my friend?”
We were planted on my front steps, sitting hip to hip after picking up dropped blooms from a hanging fuchsia. Her opened hands were full of petals, her eyes focused on my face.
We were planted on my front steps, sitting hip to hip after picking up dropped blooms from a hanging fuchsia. Her opened hands were full of petals, her eyes focused on my face.
4/ I said what I believed. “Some people in this world we are meant to know and I was meant to know you.” I tapped the tip of her nose. “Fortunately, I met your mom, so you were easy to find.” She stared at me for a moment. “I like that,” she said, nodding. “True, and crazy.”
5/ Follow me to 2019: My novel went through multiple drafts. After I sold it, I had to cut more that 50,000 words. At one point, my editor sent me a dozen, single-spaced pages of notes. None of this scared me like the email asking for author’s headshots.
A photo?
Oh, no.
A photo?
Oh, no.
6/ Anyone who loves me knows how insecure I am about being photographed. My lifelong ridiculousness has been further compounded by marriage to one of the most photogenic people I know.
My editor has known this about me for 15 years. “Yeah, yeah,” she said. “Just do it.”
My editor has known this about me for 15 years. “Yeah, yeah,” she said. “Just do it.”
7/ I reached out to Lylah, who is now a young woman. She’s still creative, still asking those questions of the world. She is also such a talented photographer.
I called, and Lylah brought the magic.
I called, and Lylah brought the magic.
8/ In the beginning of the photo session at our home, I repeatedly winced and declared myself a hopeless subject. At one point I said, “God, I look so old and haggard.”
Lylah lowered her camera.
Lylah lowered her camera.
9/ In the gentlest voice, she said, “You would never tolerate a friend saying that about herself. You would tell her all the reasons she is beautiful.”
Quoting me to myself sure shut me up. Within minutes, we had the photo for my book jacket and profile pic.
Quoting me to myself sure shut me up. Within minutes, we had the photo for my book jacket and profile pic.
10/ Every time I see my picture published in book coverage, I immediately look for that photo credit.
Her name is Lylah Rose Wolff.
The friend who found me.
Her name is Lylah Rose Wolff.
The friend who found me.
