Lights, Camera....and more contest action!

This week, Sandy and I will be giving away copies of What I Really Want to do is Direct, our second novel for adults.

While Speechless was loosely based on some of Sandy's experiences as a government speechwriter, this book was inspired by my experiences in the film business. And though this is a work of fiction, certain events in the book did really happen to me in real life. In fact, part of the fun of writing this was seeing if Sandy could guess which of the crazy happenings on set were true, and which ones I invented.

For those of you who’ve already read it, I’ll let you in on a few secrets. The story about the “alien” who insists on staying in character—to the point of trying to sneak his costume home for the weekend—is totally based in reality. In real life, the character was actually a knight and the actor tried to sneak his custom-forged armor off set so he could wear it around town and stay in character.

And then there’s the famous diva character from the book who tapes up her face every day to achieve the look of a facelift. She too exists in real life, although I can’t give you her name because some secrets just can’t leave the set. But this I can say: when you’re reading the book and you’re trying to decide which stories might be real, for the most part, the crazier the story, the closer it comes to reality.

Now, I’m not saying that everyone in the film business is crazy, although quite a few could benefit from some time on the couch. Like the well-known director who brings his teddy bear collection to set, props each one up in a director’s chair in front of the monitors and consults them regularly about the shot. Or the A list actor who reduced someone in craft services to tears because her egg white omelet contained air bubbles. Or the other A list actor who had someone in craft services fired for not washing grapes.

But I digress. My point is, for the most part movie making only seems like a flakey business. It’s actually run with an almost military-like precision. The hours are long, and the jobs are demanding. Mistakes cost a lot of money, so people are frequently fired. When you combine that tension with a lack of sleep, strong artistic personalities, and settings that run the gamut from depression-era brothels to futuristic zombie colonies, it’s not surprising that crazy things happen.

And not just to actors and directors. As part of a film crew, abnormal just becomes normal. After all, it’s still work, whether you’re reporting for duty on a mountain top, a sewage factory, or a ship on the Atlantic. Still, it sometimes surprises me when someone mentions my own extraordinary experiences. Recently, when some camera assistants were swapping war stories, one of my colleagues brought up the time I was nearly swept overboard by the backwash of a helicopter landing on a coastguard cutter. Then I reminded my colleagues about the time an overzealous camera operator tried to get a better shot of a grizzly bear and inadvertently shoved a colleague into the electrical fence that was meant to protect him from the bear.

What I really wanted to do in this book was give readers a look at the other side of filmmaking—where there’s little fame, less glamor but a lot of other rewards.

Here's what it says on the back cover:

Roxanne Hastings has wanted to be a director ever since she started storyboarding home movies and demanding that her teacher recast her grade-school play.

The climb up the film crew ranks has been slow and grueling, but Rox has made it to assistant cinematographer. It's quite a coup, but what she really wants to do is direct.

Rox is convinced that the big budget action movie rolling into town is her big break. But then longtime friend, Libby McIssac, offers Rox a screenplay and the best seat in the house: the director's chair. Given the chance to call the shots, Rox does what any wannabe filmmaker would do. She says yes. To both projects. (And the one guy she knows she shouldn't have.)

Can Rox juggle two lives? Either way, it will be an award-winning performance!

Despite the back lot backdrop, Roxanne is just another gal trying to get ahead in the world. It’s a story that anyone can relate to—especially people with big dreams that keep colliding with reality.

If you’d like to find out what happens to Roxanne, drop us a line or leave us a comment. And if you have a crazy story about YOUR work you’d like to share, we’d love to hear it.

Last week, we loved the comment we received about The Black Sheep covers from Carmen Alexis Tsang. Carmen, you've won the copy of the new Black Sheep paperback, so please drop us another line with your address and we will send you the book.

Summer Makeover

The Black Sheep has lightened up for summer with a fresh new look. That’s right, the paperback version has arrived in bookstores!

But just as in real life, a makeover doesn’t mean anything has changed on the inside. The Black Sheep is still the same story about love, reality TV, annoying parents—and sea otters. (Don’t worry, the sea otters are minor characters).

Here’s what the back cover says:

Fed up with her parents and all their ridiculous rules (they keep a binder full of them), fifteen-year-old Kendra Bishop writes away to The Black Sheep, a reality TV show that offers the chance to swap families with another teen. But when the camera crew shows up at her Manhattan apartment, Kendra starts to have second thoughts.

Too late! Kendra is whisked away to Monterey, California, to live with the Mulligan family in a household that couldn’t be more different from her own. Of course, when Kendra falls for Mitch, the Mulligans’ seventeen-year-old son, it only complicates things further, especially since Mitch despises the reality TV show and everything it stands for. But given the chance, Kendra might just be able to juggle first love, her new stardom, and a pushy TV producer who will stop at nothing for higher ratings.

We loved the sheep on the original cover so much that Yvonne actually brought him to life in a video. (Yes, it’s a boy—can’t you tell?)

But this is a good look too. It’s bright and fun—possibly the best fit for what Publisher’s Weekly called “A cheery fish-out-of-water romance.”

So tell us, what cover do you like best? Leave a comment or send an e-mail and we’ll draw two winners—one for the paperback and one for the hardcover.

P.S. The winner of last week’s Introducing Vivien Leigh Reid: Daughter of the Diva giveaway is Cyndi. E-mail your address, Cyndi.

The Inspiration that Keeps on Giving

As the spring book giveaway continues, it’s time to talk about our third book and first novel for teens, Introducing Vivien Leigh Reid: Daughter of the Diva.

In typical Collins-Rideout fashion, we decided to write this one on a whim. The short gap between our two adult novels felt teen-sized. And we knew we’d have no trouble capturing the voice of a fifteen-year-old girl. Why the confidence? Because Yvonne and I made a choice long ago to remain immature permanently.

That’s harder than you think.

Sure, it was easy enough when we met at 13 and 15. Then, we were immature without even trying. And believe me, it showed.

At the time, we were working at a public library in a Toronto suburb. I was initially suspicious of Yvonne because she was a cheerleader, and I dislike peppy people on principle. But she was hiding a cruel wit beneath her pom-poms and it wasn’t long before we were behaving so immaturely at work that the evil head librarian began scheduling us on separate shifts.

We credit this separation for launching our coauthor career because we wrote hilarious (at least, to us) notes and limericks and pinned them to the staff bulletin board. When asked to desist, we started putting unsuitable books “on hold” for patrons for the joy of watching the head librarian place the notification calls. (e.g., “Hello, Mr. Cox, it’s Mrs. Tanner at the library. We have A Woman’s Body on hold for you.”)

We reveled in our immaturity and expected it to last forever. Given our antics through high school and college, we had every reason to think it would. But eventually we graduated and got real jobs. I worked in government and Yvonne in a bank. The future of immaturity looked bleak.

Fortunately, we came to our senses quite soon and blew off those jobs for something more appropriate. Specifically, I handed out towels in a gym and Yvonne tended bar. We rented a house together downtown, and devoted an entire room to two bicycles and a cedar chest full of booze. We lived on Kraft Caramels and Smarties. Every so often, we’d host a massive party to give ourselves a reason to vacuum.

Those were good times—immature times—but they had to end. Nothing kills immaturity faster than an empty bank account. Besides, we were starting to hear complaints from the suburbs: “Aren’t you ever going to grow up?”

Bending to pressure, we downsized to a smaller place and got real jobs again. We worked long hours. We ate vegetables. We got pets, relationships, washing machines and car loans. In short, we grew up.

Then, one night, as were nodding off in front of the TV at 9:30, it struck us that we were old before our time. “We can’t give up that easily,” Yvonne said. “We have to fight this.”

The only solution was to make immaturity a priority in our lives. We had to commit.

“Politically Incorrect Thursdays” were an important first step. It meant staying up late and maybe having a drink and some caramels for old time’s sake. It meant saying outrageous things that we’d never dare think on regular weekdays. Who knew regressing could feel so good?

Rejuvenated, we took our act on the road, behaving immaturely in a number of locales, including several cities in Texas and right up the coast of California.

But vacations are easy. It’s the daily grind of responsibility that puts immaturity at risk.

That’s where the teen books come in. Writing one gives us a license to think like a teen for months at a time.

In Daughter of the Diva, Leigh Reid is quite a brat and we truly enjoyed slipping into her head. Sadly, by book three in the series, Leigh has become more mature than we are.

These days, we make it a point to surprise each other now and then with small acts of spontaneous immaturity. Just yesterday, I opened an e-mail from Yvonne to find she’d done unspeakable things with a hideous photo of me that I’d (stupidly) shared. It was iMac “art” worthy of the Immaturity Hall of Fame. Vanity prevents my sharing it here.

Anyway, here’s what Daughter of the Diva is about:

Leigh can think of a million ways she'd rather spend a summer besides visiting her movie-star mother, Annika. But her dad insists the two need some "mother/daughter bonding time" and packs fifteen-year-old Leigh off to Ireland, where she'll become her mom's personal assistant on the set of her latest film, Danny Boy. It could be worse. Annika may be a distant, self-absorbed diva, but Sean, her young co-star, is the hottest guy Leigh has ever met.

Things heat up when Leigh lands a bit part in the movie, and soon Leigh and Annika are sharing scenes, scripts—and the spotlight. With tensions rising on the set, Annika and Leigh must finally grow into their most demanding roles: mother and daughter.

Leave a comment or send us an e-mail and we’ll enter your name in a draw for a free copy of the book.

And now I’m off to plot my revenge on Yvonne.

Never Too Late to Learn

Yvonne and I took Robert McKee’s “Story” seminar last weekend. It was held in Toronto over three (very long) days. Here I am at the end of it.

Yeah, it was tough. Good, but tough.

The seminar focused on screenwriting, but the techniques apply to story-telling of any kind. It’s something we could have used seven or eight years ago, when we started our first novel. The project later evolved into Speechless, but in its early form, “Unspeakable” may have been a more fitting title.

Having written non-fiction with relative ease, we were a trifle over-confident. How hard could a novel be? All it takes is a cool concept, right? And we thought we had that. “Unspeakable” featured two protagonists, one a political speechwriter, the other a camera technician (any resemblance to our biographies is purely coincidental), who exchanged funny and fascinating stories about their professional lives through an e-mail dialogue.

Although it took three times as long to write as our first book, we managed to churn out a draft. It comprised dozens, maybe hundreds, of these e-mails going back and forth, back and forth, on and on and on for 564 pages, single-spaced.

There were a few funny moments, but it definitely wasn’t a story. There was no structure to speak of.

Could we see that at the time? Nope. We thought it was a rather fine piece of comic fiction.

Our then-agent, unfortunately, disagreed. “Publishers aren’t interested in epistolary fiction anymore,” she wrote. You could tell she was typing with one hand as she pinched her nose with the other. “No one would want to read about a politician with a flatulence problem anyway. Flatulence is not funny.”

Let me tell you, I worked for a woman who had that very problem, and in a corporate setting flatulence can be very funny indeed. Especially if you’re as immature as I am.

At any rate, our agent was missing the point. Our book, if we dare call it that, was the opposite of what McKee calls, “a good story, well told.” It was just a string of anecdotes going nowhere fast—yet somehow not fast enough.

Our agent fell speechless from horror, leaving us to figure out what to do with what we were beginning to sense was a piece of crap. After much wringing of hands, we asked our former editor, now freelancing, to take a look.

She didn’t mince words. “This isn’t working,” she said. “Break it into two books and find a story arc for each. Write it in straight narrative. And read “How to Write a Damn Good Novel.”

Recognizing good advice when we heard it, we got down to work. And a couple of months later, she pronounced the first 50 pages of our new version quite readable: “Now you’ve got it. Keep going.”

The farting politician disappeared in revision, along with everything else we thought we could be sued for. When we were satisfied, we sent Speechless directly to Red Dress Ink, which had recently launched a chick lit imprint.

Here’s what it says on the back cover:

Libby McIssac is known for two things: catching bridal bouquets and having a way with words. Since the former isn't something that looks good on a resume, she's parlayed the latter into a new career as a political speechwriter. But just as she's making sure her boss looks as if she knows something about…well, anything, Libby's world is turned upside down.

Enter a handsome British consultant who upsets the delicate chain of command around the office and somehow always gets what he wants. Including Libby?

When a media leak of a big-time scandal sends everyone into a tailspin, Libby fears she may get caught in the crossfire. Cue the fake alliances, the secrets, the sex, the subterfuge and the hidden friendships.

Welcome to the world of politics, where perception is everything, nothing is as it seems and the last thing you want is to be left speechless.

After taking McKee’s seminar, I can see room for improvement. Still, we have a soft spot for this book, the first of our seven novels. At the very least, it helped me exorcise a few professional demons.

This week, we’ll share a couple of copies with you. Send us an e-mail and we’ll draw two winners. Note that while it’s pretty tame (except for that one scene that scandalized my father, but that’s another story), we wrote this book with adult readers in mind.

Another winner

Just a quick note to say that Marjolein has won a copy of "Totally Me: The Teenage Girl's Survival Guide." Send us your address Marjolein!

Check back in a day or two for the next giveaway.