Well, the life of a wildlife photographer is never boring. On this trip, we were charged by an alpha male white-faced capuchin. That was a highlight. Of all the beautiful things I witness, I only capture a few in images. For the rest of the time, there are often near misses. I thought it would be fun to share a few of those.

I was photographing something else when my photo friend, Amber, saw this toucan fly in and land. I swung the camera around and shot off a few frames before checking the settings. He took off again just as I got the settings changed, but leaves always have a way of being in an inconvenient spot.

Sometimes birds take flight so quickly and there’s no time to adjust.

More pesky leaves:

Sometimes I just plain miss the focus (I’ll blame it on the autofocus not being able to read my mind!)

Then there was this baby spider monkey. We saw several, high in the treetops, moving quickly. Not much of a chance for photos. One quick moment and I missed it. Bad focus. Darn!

Then some other random blurry birds:

This basilisk was taken from a raft, zinging down the river. I kinda figured it was a long shot.

But this one, taken of a keel-billed toucan is the blooper of the trip. Talk about a pesky leaf!

Should I pander or stay true to my vision as an artist? This may sound trite or even, well, uppity, but, honestly, it is a struggle for anyone trying to make a living in any artistic field. I spent many hours pondering it with my photography, with the magazine, and now with my writing. What do I mean, you ask?

Recently, I wrote about removing swear words from my Poppy books. I stick with that decision, they simply aren’t necessary (though I did get an interesting compliment for not holding back, but anyway…) and that one item seems to be an interesting deterrent to many readers. I liked the story and particularly the character with them, but I’m fine with them removed.

But I’m now pondering other advice out there, parameters of genre. (Of course, I’m struggling to place my story within one definitive genre. Now that I say it, maybe that’s the problem. Hm.) For example, my female protagonist in a crime fiction suspense thriller action adventure (whatever you want to label it, I’m still working on it) absolutely, never ever, EVER, is allowed to cry. Really? Never? Okay, I get that no one wants to read about a wimpy woman who bursts into tears when she breaks a fingernail, or gets stuck on the subway, or her boyfriend breaks up with her. So noted. (No need to note. I couldn’t stand her myself.) But one of the main things I wanted to explore with Poppy (**SPOILER ALERT**) was how someone who is so passionate about animals that she’s made saving them her life’s work would react when coming face-to-face with the horror of abuse and neglect. How would she act the part undercover of an uncaring, brutal wildlife trafficker under that pressure? That first time, completely unprepared for the power of her own feelings, what would happen?

Frankly, I like that Poppy is that vulnerable, that passionate that she can’t hold it together. She’s not yet jaded, pessimistic, or numb. All her fire and passion is alive and raging. That’s what I love most about her. And I’m betting my readers will too.

I suppose I’ve answered my own question. Do I comply? H-E-double-hockey-sticks NO.

What do you think?