This, of course, was life before the Internet and Wikipedia. Later on, I couldn’t find out much about Anne Rice either. On the paperback version of The Mummy, I was given the tiny nugget, “Anne Rice was born in New Orleans, where she now lives with her husband, the poet Stan Rice, and their son, Christopher.”

One time Stephen King stepped out from behind his typewriter, and was interviewed by Writer’s Digest. I remember reading, and re-reading, an article about how he described The Craft. I practically memorized his take on being a writer. He’s not much different today. He advises that all writers be voracious readers, and I tend to agree.

As an author, a screenwriter, and Hollywood tagline writer, I’m sometimes surprised how many times I’m asked the same questions. But, as a reader, I understand that yearning to find out. Readers want to know how writers create characters, and what inspired the story. (And there’s always a back-story to the story. That goes for movies, as well.) Readers want details on how the plot was constructed because it left them turning pages late into the night.

This isn’t a spoiler alert, but I was asked by a woman at my literary agency, Dupree/Miller, why a dog had to die in one of my books. And was the dog really dead? It wasn’t so much a question as a demand. She demanded to know!

I’m also asked about the writing process—do I map out the story, or write off-the-cuff? Do I use the same technique every time? What are the similarities and differences in writing a screenplay versus a novel? And what about those taglines? How do you come up with them? Personally, I wondered about Peter Straub’s Ghosts’ tagline: “What you can’t see can scare you to death.” It bugged me for years. And what’s a tagline doing on the cover of a book?

One of the great things about being a reader in this day and age is that you can find out about your favorite author online. Dig a little deeper and you’ll probably find your author interviewed on Youtube, a Vlog or Blog, or a radio podcast.

I gave a radio interview the other day. (One of many I’ve been doing lately.) Click HERE to listen to the interview on Culture Wars, a radio program out of New York/New Jersey.

I actually like talking shop with interviewers. Maybe it’s all those years spent in public relations. Among some of the things readers want to know wasn’t just the details of my work, and how I do my work, but they want to know about me. The way I wanted to know what kind of dog Piers Anthony had… if he, in fact, had a dog. Or if Anne Rice had ever met a vampire.

Okay, I don’t really want to know that.

Yes, I do.

During my career, I’ve been interviewed hundreds of times on practically every media outlet: radio, podcasts, TV programs, magazines and newspapers. I’m an extrovert who writes, so I rather like being interviewed. (I know this is a strange combination: prolific writer who loves to gab.) My friends in L.A. think I’m an odd glitch in an otherwise well-designed universe. They also want to come up with a new word that describes people like me.

Talking shop about movies, novels and stories in general is enjoyable because I’m passionate about it. I keep up-to-date on everything new in my industry (Hollywood and the literary world), and I like imparting what I know, or have learned, to anyone who’s interested in the subject.

But, there’s a big difference between having a conversation and being interviewed. In a conversation, there’s a tendency to talk over someone else, express yourself animatedly, raise your voice, or even intentionally interrupt to get your point across. Okay, maybe that’s just me and the fall-out from my mother’s Midwestern genes.

In an interview, while you’re trying to remain conversational—after all, no one wants to listen to someone reading prepared answers (yawn!)—you have to consciously make an effort to slow down and speak clearly.

It sounds easier than it is.

If you’re a writer who gets an opportunity—and it really is a great opportunity—to give an interview, try to do as much as you can to prep before it takes place. Impromptu is great if you’re good at winging it, but most people get nervous, and there’s nothing worse than dead air. (That “nothingness” that you hear every so often on the radio.)

Do some research and find out about the radio station or podcast—listen carefully to previous interviews and what the interviewer’s style is like. Ask if they can provide you with questions before hand, or even offer ideas of what you’d like to be asked. Review your questions; write out the answers if it helps you formulate your responses. But, try not to “read” them on air. It sounds unnatural and stilted. Instead, practice your interview with a trusted friend or family member. There are loads of tips and good advice online, too.

Remember to stop, breathe, listen to the questions carefully (sometimes the interviewer changes direction). I tend to pepper my interviews with “um.” (Don’t do that!) It’s my way of thinking and taking a breath, but it’s much better to simply stop for a moment, think and then answer.

After you’ve given your interview, listen to it carefully. A lot of people don’t like the sound of their own voice, or cringe at their replies because they think they’ve blown it, but usually you’re your worst critic. Listening to yourself will give you ideas on what to do differently next time, what things to improve upon, or even to cheer because, hey, you got through it and lived!

Last night, I gave a very lengthy pod cast interview. The questions were thought-provoking, and that got me all tingly, so I drank a double espresso, turned on Skype, and babbled my way through a fun one-hour conversation about books and movies.

Later, after the coffee buzz wore off, I realized I get asked a similar question all the time. When I’m on the east coast, it’s about Hollywood. When I’m in L.A., they want to know about my novels. It suddenly occurred to me that Hollywood is in love with the Literary World. And the Literary World is enamored with Hollywood!

Alright, this may not be news to anyone, but there are things going on right now between the two that a lot of people might not know about. The publishing industry is going through significant changes—writers are now self-publishing at a clip faster than George Clooney is going through women and Kardashians are endorsing products. And Hollywood is looking for content because “Content is King.” That just means good stories delivered via various forms of media.
But now you don’t need to wait for a novel to hit the Best Sellers list before it becomes a movie. (Incidentally, readers aren’t that interested in Best Sellers—about 65% of readers, according to Publisher’s Weekly, are more interested in—here’s that word again—content.) Now, Hollywood is actively seeking out writers who have great manuscripts, taking the manuscript and delivering a movie and a book at the same time.

Yes, this is indeed a good love story.

Hollywood is fascinated by people who not only can craft a great tale, but make it readable on paper. You know what I mean—without being riddled with grammatical errors and typos. And The Literary World can’t get enough of sitting in the dark watching Robert Downey, Jr. beat up bad guys in a heavy red iron suit.

This is already happening. I watched it in real-time in L.A.—in less than 15 minutes, a 350 page manuscript was made into a movie and book deal before I finished my glass of wine.

So, here’s the big question for writers. While you’re writing your book, do you hear a soundtrack? You should.

I’m not certain what these desperate film makers were expecting. A producer isn’t going to hear his bird call, fly across a crowded room and reply, “I’m here! Would you like me to fund your movie?” What I did see was an arrogant man who replied, “yes,” to some poor soul who all but genuflected in front of the ass. Then the “producer” shot a disdainful look at the screenwriter, like he was something nasty that got stuck under his shoe, and quickly exited the bar.

First of all, let’s clarify: An executive producer is usually the person responsible for financing, or securing studio backing. Producers come on at the beginning of a film, and, whether they’ve provided some funding or not, typically are involved in a project from script to completion. In Santa Monica in the fall, when a chilly wind blows off the ocean, the Loews Hotel fills with all kinds of creative people who are interested in one thing—making and selling movies. I’ll add to that—movies that make money. Heads up: you may not need to buy an attendee badge (although my business partner and I did). Hang out in the lobby at happy hour and, if you’re astute, you’ll figure out who is who. More importantly, you’ll figure out who is right for you to be having a conversation with.

Among the diverse group of people I met over the week was Straw Weisman. His ice breakers include, “Are you going to drink both those cocktails?” (Um, of course I am!) and “What are you doing here?” To the second question, he added, “And I’m not talking in an esoteric way.” I liked Straw right away—mainly because I like people who are forthright and funny. Straw could easily be overlooked. (I’m not making height jokes, although he knows I really am.) He doesn’t wear a black T-shirt, jeans, sneakers and a baseball cap. He has a wry, smart sense of humor, and he doesn’t look down on you. (Okay, that was blatant.) And while he “multi-tasks” as he talks to you, he actively listens.

Here’s what I really like about Straw Weisman. When it comes to making a movie, he knows there are different ways to get lift-off on a project. Keep that in mind if you’re ever tempted to cry out, “Are you a producer?” to some random person in a bar.

And when you embark on a new relationship, consider how you might work together to achieve mutual goals. This goes without saying—keep in touch with those new relationships. Just don’t tell Straw, “We’ll get together shortly.” (I’m seriously catching flak for that one.)

How Authors Get Their Book Covers Right

His breath smells pretty good, and I’ve examined his knuckles and can report that he’s well-groomed and not hiding excessive amounts of hair or spiky toenails.

If you’ve ever had the chance to watch him in action as a dad—which I’ve had the honor of doing—you’d see an attentive, caring man who knows exactly what his priorities are—his family.

Of course, I’m really not sure which definition of troll Charlie Sheen was referring to when he called Jon Cryer one.  Maybe the one who posts off-topic messages in an online community?  Eh, I have a very hard time seeing Jon getting his kicks by writing lewd things in a chat room.  Maybe Charlie thought Jon was a “wicked troll king in search of a mystical ring” from the 1986 movie, Troll.  Although I’ve already checked, and Jon was definitely not in the cast.  (Maybe he was too busy starring in really cool John Hughes movies.)

Of course, on Conan, Cryer admitted he was, in fact, a troll. “It’s not something I like to talk about,” he said.  “My parents don’t even know.”  He also reported the extensive time spent in electrolysis and hair dying.  In this case, Jon would be one of those strange looking dolls with shockingly long pink and blue hair.

Jon Cryer’s self-deprecating humor gives me a smirk.  I’ve always felt it was the best way to handle condemnation of any kind.

When I wrote Dead Asleep, a novel that comes out in a few weeks, I worked very hard to create a character that was resilient and didn’t have a problem making fun of himself.  My character, Kevin Macy, goes through several transformations and becomes very similar to the type of man Jon Cryer is in real life.  I’m rather proud of that, since I wrote the book before I met the man.

With the Emmys under his belt and Two and Half Men back on TV, I’m certain that Jon Cryer will be cracking jokes at himself in the mirror before show time as he brushes his long blue locks and then tucks them back into his wig.

Take that, Sheen.

I was pulling into my mother’s house on the south shore of Boston, Mass., when my cousin called my cell phone. She was highly agitated, almost frantic.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

I don’t know,” she said. “I’m scared.”

“Scared of what? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Something bad is going to happen. Something really bad.”

I told her she was freaking me out. (I don’t like to be freaked out. I get zits.) I looked in the backseat where my two-year old son was sitting and got a bad feeling.

“Is this about someone in the family?” I asked worriedly.

“No! I don’t know what’s wrong, but something bad is going to happen and—” She paused. “I have to go!” she cried and abruptly hung up on me.

Well that was weird, I thought. I got to my mom’s and promptly told her about my cousin’s call. A gloomy expression spread across her face. “Your father could do things like that,” she said.

“Like what? Scare the crap out of me?”

My dad, who’d passed away from cancer six years prior, was “gifted” according to my family. Growing up, I’d seen him do strange things like move a penny without touching it.

My mom said, “Just before the phone would ring, your dad would say, ‘the phone is gonna ring and it’s Lou.’ Then minutes later, the phone would ring and it’d be Lou. That was your dad.”

“Good. You just gave me the heebie jeebies,” I said, thinking I could feel a pimple already forming on my cheek.

We put the TV on for my son while my mom, an editor, helped me review galleys for my book, The Witch and the Devil’s Son.

I remember re-reading the same sentence in a part of the book where the antagonist, Van Masterson, writes in his journal:  It’s like we’re both waiting for something to happen. And something will. I read that sentence over and over wondering what was wrong with that phrase.

It was about 8:15 a.m. when my cousin called me on September 11th, 2001 (9/11). Shortly after her mysterious call, the first of two planes was flown into the World Trade Center. It hit the North tower at approximately 8:46 a.m.

My mother and I stared at the TV and cried, watching the events unfold. Finally she said, “Coming events cast their shadow before them.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, alarmed.

“Your cousin’s call is like that old adage. Before a significant event occurs, often there are warning signs. Sometimes it’s just a feeling.”

My book came to a halt after that morning. The whole world came to a halt. In time, the cog of life began again, and we all exhaled like we’d been holding our collective breaths for a very long time.

I remember everything about that day, the menacing look of the bright blue sky and the utter absence of planes. And my cousin’s ominous call.

It’s been ten years and The Witch and the Devil’s Son is getting a facelift with a beautiful new cover. It’s only coincidence that this all came together now and that the photo shoot for the cover is a day before the 9/11 anniversary. Still, coincidence never felt so eerie.

Can you smell it? That’s fear. It’s not coming from me, though. I wear a good deodorant.

I spent the summer in Los Angeles—specifically North Hollywood, right down the street from Universal Pictures. As I do every several weeks, I meet with film companies, pitch stories and leave my material—scripts and film treatments—to be reviewed. A meeting can be anywhere from twenty minutes (that’s my shortest) to several hours. It can also involve food, but more often it’s in an office somewhere in Beverly Hills or Wilshire Blvd.

I typically go into a meeting with at least eight to ten stories under my belt in all stages of development. I’ve pitched everything
from all ten to just one. After every meeting, I’ve been asked to provide a film treatment or completed movie script. (That’s a pretty good average.)

I write in almost every genre—from comedy and chick flicks to young adult and drama—you name it. That’s because I adore a great story, I love writing and I’m prolific. I watch more movies than anyone I know, and I tend to watch them more than once. I read and I admire book lovers, bibliophiles and authors. I write books, too—lots of them. I believe that success comes when you love what you do.

There’s a lot of confusion about what Hollywood is looking for. In fact, that’s the main question not just with writers, but with
film makers themselves. What’s the next best thing?

The answer is: the next best thing is what you believe it is. It’s what you’ve written for a target audience you know intimately.  You conjured the story, so it must have bubbled up from that magical place. The one when you get goose bumps not just after you wrote it, but as you’re writing it.

If it’s good, and I assume it is, then trust it will find a home. I do. That’s why I don’t sweat in meetings. Well, that, and my deodorant.

Since I’ve already set forces in motion, I expect that they’ll be realized.

Here’s who I’ve met—people who are fearful. I call them Noodles because they’re slippery, without much substance, and they easily fall through your fingers. They often make sounds like “hmmm,” and “ummm,” without any kind of  declaration of what they felt or thought about a story. Their livelihood depends on whether they should take a chance on your work—or someone else’s. Taking a chance means a studio and distributor spend lots of money. If they make the wrong choice and the movie bombs, someone might call them out on it.

Noodles don’t like to take a chance. They want certainty. And we all know what that means.

This is what I like—the people who are fearless. I call them Tanks. Things bounce off of them and they often make comments like, “I hate it, I like it, I’m impressed, I’m offended, I feel, I think…” That’s a good thing. I know where I stand as a writer.  Hell, I know where I stand as a human. Tanks move boldly forward.

There’s something to be said about living courageously and passionately. And yes, you’ll hear, “no” from time to time.

Again, I’m not afraid. I’m not worried my story isn’t good. Not every movie script is right for every film company.

By the way, I’m not particularly offended by the Noodles. They simply need someone—that’s you—to ask this question: “What is it you like?” Abruptly, you’ll find the conversation turning into a discussion instead of a pitch. That’s okay. If you listen, you’ll get a story out of it.

Maybe not one you’ve written, but one you’d like to write.

-   Jennifer

Email me by hitting the Contact Button. I reply to everyone. The Witch and the Devil’s Son is being rereleased with a fancy new book jacket—thanks friends from Universal Pictures—and will be available on Kindle. Cheap. Because that’s the way we like it.  If you want to respond, I look forward to your comments.