Page 58 of The Heartbreakers
Chapter 16
The Heartbreak Chronicles was doing pretty well, extra stress on the “well” part. Since uploading my first post a week ago, the blog had been viewed more than three million times. Of course, it helped that Paul had shared news about the blog on all of the band’s social media channels, but I was still blown away by the number of hits, and that didn’t include the thousands of times my pictures were shared across the Internet or the hundreds of comments they each received.
The overnight attention and support gave me a much needed boost of confidence, but I didn’t realize just how well it was doing until the boys had a stint onTalks with Tracy. Tracy Hoop was the queen of daytime talk shows, the favorite of forty-year-old moms across the country. During the band’s interview, I got to sit in the front row of the audience, a spot my own mother would probably run me over for. About twenty minutes in, Tracy turned the conversation in a new direction.
“Now, boys,” she said after taking a sip of coffee, “I’ve been hearing quite a bit of buzz about—what is it? A blog of some sort?”
I nearly fell out of my seat.
“A photo blog,” Oliver told her. “Basically it’s a website with a running collection of pictures of us hanging out and stuff. The idea behind it is that our fans can see that we’re regular dudes who just happen to have a not-so-regular job.”
“How creative,” Tracy said. “Are these selfies you take, or how does it work?”
“Actually, our friend Stella is a photographer,” JJ said, pointing me out in the crowd. “She hangs out with us on a daily basis, takes pictures, and largely deals with making us look good.” The audience laughed, but my stomach turned to rock because two different cameramen swiveled in my direction.
“Oh, she’s here with you today? How wonderful!” Tracy exclaimed. To me she said, “Stella, is it? Did JJ cover the basics of what you do, or is there anything else interesting you can share with us?”
Ohman, this isn’t happening.
TheTracy Hoop was talking to me. Worse, this was going to be on TV! I wanted to lean over and empty my stomach onto the floor, but instead, I glanced up at the boys. Oliver was watching me, and when our eyes met, he smiled and gave me a thumbs-up. The small gesture was enough to help me shake my fear.
Youcandothis, I told myself.
Taking a deep breath, I turned back to Tracy. “He did a pretty good job,” I said, as my adrenaline rushed. “Although he forgot to mention how hard it is for me to make them look so good, but I do what I can.”
Everyone laughed, JJ the loudest.
“So if I understand correctly, you get to travel around with the band? That sounds like every girl’s dream come true.”
“It’s pretty awesome,” I said. I could feel my palms starting to sweat, but I wiped them on my shorts and forced myself to continue talking. “The guys are great and I get to do something I love, so it’s the perfect situation.”
Tracy smiled and nodded. “I assume you’re talking about photography. Do you have any other projects besides the blog for the band, maybe one of your own?”
Her question confused me, and I took a moment to respond.Aprojectofmyown?I considered the Heartbreak Chronicles my project. That’s how Paul always referred to it, and it was the first time I’d ever displayed my photography for the world to see.
“I have an entire portfolio of work that isn’t related to the band,” I said slowly, not sure if that was the answer Tracy was looking for. “But nothing I’ve really shared.”
“Well, I’m sure that will change in the near future considering the success you’ve gained just by working with the Heartbreakers,” she told me. “Congratulations on the blog.”
After the interview, JJ apologized for what happened, saying he never intended for Tracy to put me on the spot, but I waved him off. As terrifying as the impromptu conversation had been, I couldn’t stop thinking about Tracy’s final question, and eventually I was struck with a realization.
Before I uploaded my first post, Alec told me something that didn’t quite resonate with me. He’d said that I could take a picture of anything related to the band, and people would love it no matter what. While the positive reaction to the blogdidhelp boost my confidence, now I understood it wasn’t really my work that everyone liked. The boys’ fans didn’t appreciate my style and careful technique—they enjoyed the blog because of the Heartbreakers.
TalkswithTracyopened my eyes to the fact that the Heartbreak Chronicles didn’t really belong to me. Yes, I took the pictures and ran the blog, but was it really a representation of who I was as a photographer? Not really.
And surprisingly, I wasn’t upset.
So the blog wasn’t truly mine. That didn’t mean it wasn’t important. My first upload was the perfect warm-up, a practice round that showed me my potential. If I wanted to know what peoplereallythought about my work, then maybe I needed to put a little of myself out there and create my own project.
Over the course of the next few days, I spent my free time combing through all the old work on my computer, trying to decide which pictures really defined me. Someone might argue that they all did since I took them, but it didn’t work like that. To me, not all pictures were equal.
I considered each one carefully, and some stood out, bright and clear, screaming, “This is Stella!” It was an intuitive process, one that I compared to driving through a storm. As I drove, the rain came down so hard that the windshield wipers could barely keep up, but suddenly I would see the green of a traffic light. The light would glare through a sea of black telling me to go, go, go! When I came across a particular picture like this, it would snap me back to a moment or person or place. That’s what made it important. Even though my world had moved on, the memory I’d captured was still the same, and that’s what I wanted to share with people.
“Whatcha up to?” Xander asked.
It was Saturday morning, and we were in the airport waiting for our flight to Houston to board. The band’s schedule for the day was packed, so I was trying to use the few spare hours to get some work done.
Glancing away from the screen, I looked down at him. “Working.”
