Celebrity Encounters with TV Writers - Is That an Oxymoron?

We don't generally think of TV writers as celebrities. No, we really don't. Truthfully, TV writers (and I count myself among them) are generally not the most photogenic lot. We work behind the scenes for a reason. Also we often work from home, in sweat pants, sans make-up. If we do need to go out, we put in a modicum of effort to look a bit more presentable, but generally speaking fashion is not our forte. 

Last night, however, I was in the presence of a true Celebrity TV Writer. No, he isn't particularly photogenic or fashionable. But it doesn't matter because he is Vince Gilligan, creator of my favorite series of all time (and the favorite for many), "Breaking Bad." 

Actually he's kind of cute, isn't he?

He was being interviewed as part of the Vancouver International Film Festival's TV Forum. 1800 fans came out to see him. He was interviewed by another heavyweight L.A. screenwriter, Damon Lindelof of "Lost' fame. It was a really terrific evening, marred only by a lone weirdo in tighty whities who tried to make the evening all about him for a few minutes. Kudos to Damon, who was an excellent moderator. We screened Vince's favorite episode, from Season 4, "Face Off." (If you're a fan of the show and think about the title literally for a moment, you might remember which once it was). Then Vince answered questions from Damon and fans on Twitter for over an hour. He generously talked about each of the other writers in his room, and told us a lot about their process, without, of course, ever giving anything away. Clearly all the nice things people say about him are true. He's the genuine article, and it was truly a great evening. 

A number of years ago - gosh, probably at least 5 - I had another more intimate (no, not that intimate) encounter with another Celebrity TV Writer. My friend Norm Hiscock - whom I'd had the pleasure of working with on a series I did called "Alice, I Think," based on the best-selling novels by Susan Juby - how we got him I'll never know, this is a celebrity TV writer in his own right, having worked on "Kids in the Hall," "SNL," "King of the Hill," "Parks and Rec," and now "Brooklyn 99" - was moderating a panel with Paul Lieberstein, not only a writer for "The Office," but also the actor who played Toby. 

Norm and I had agreed to go out for coffee afterward, with my writer friend Jennifer Daley (who was working with me on "Robson Arms"). He asked if Paul could come along. Now, this was the at the height of the popularity of "The Office," and Toby's character. We sat at the local Starbucks with Norm and Paul, and Paul told us great stories about working on "The Office" - almost none of which I remember (nor does Jennifer) because I (we) were so star-struck. I do remember that he told us he got the part because it hadn't been cast yet, and he was asked to read the part at their read-through, and everyone loved his delivery. 

Lastly - I was one of those people who came to "The Wire" late, and got caught up by buying the first 3 or 4 seasons on DVD. (It is a very very close race between "The Wire" and "Breaking Bad" for my all-time favorite). I think I had just finished watching everything up to the final season, which I watched when it aired, when I was invited for the first time, with my first book, to the Vancouver International Writers' Festival. I shouldn't admit this story to the festival's director, Hal Wake, or he may never invite me back. But I found out one of the writers from "The Wire," George Pelecanos, was going to be there. Now, George is an amazing novelist as well. But I was a bit ga-ga over the fact that he'd written for "The Wire." So when I saw there was a sign-up list for a harbor cruise - and that George had signed up - I signed up, too. 

Un peu stalkerish, you ask? Mais oui! And it gets better (or worse, if you're George). Because I confess that I kind of cornered him at one point and started asking him about "The Wire." The guy looked really uncomfortable, which made me feel like a dork, so I backed off. But you know who George really liked talking to on that cruise was Sheree Fitch. Now, Sheree might kill me for saying this - she has since become a good friend and anyone who knows her, loves her - but it's no surprise George was a bit google-eyed for her, because she is gorgeous (and very happily married). George is not chopped liver, either. Well, see for yourselves: 

 

TTFN - Ta-ta for now!

Three More Celebrity Encounters + One Muffin Top

So I just got home from Word on the Street Halifax. I was flown from one coast to the other, thanks to the wonderful fact that "The Reluctant Journal of Henry K. Larsen" has been nominated for the TD Canadian Children's Literature Award (thank you Canadian Children's Book Centre). They have some sort of partnership with the CBC, and money was found to fly me to the Atlantic Coast.

It was a whirlwind trip and I had a blast. What a great city. My event was fantastic; I was interviewed by local CBC personality Carmen Klassen and four amazing 12-year-olds who'd won a contest to be in the CBC book club.

I love this photo, minus my muffin top. God, I can't stop staring at it, and thinking I should have stood up. Yes, I waste precious time thinking about things like this. But really, these kids were great, really smart, and it was a fun hour. And we had Canadian celebrities in our midst! I looked up at one point and was tickled to see two of the stars of SEED sitting in the audience, Adam Korson and William Ainscough (and William's beautiful actress mom, Nicole Oliver).

I met them afterward and they were lovely. Adam is, well, hubba-hubba - and a very nice man, who's making a documentary about bullying. And William, good god, I wanted to take him home in my suitcase, but I don't think his mom would have liked that. These two are so perfectly cast as father and son! Plus they both bought my book, so now I also know they have excellent taste in literature. :-) 

The star attraction of Word on the Street Halifax was none other than Jian Ghomeshi. Because he was also appearing in the CBC tent, the CBC arranged for me to have a "private audience" with him (okay, that's my term, not theirs). I bought his memoir, "1982," beforehand. 

Man, is that guy good-lookin'. We all know this from his posters, but he's even cuter in real life. And he was really kind and gracious, and made me feel at ease. It was actually quite funny because he went right into interviewer mode, and started asking me questions! But we had a pleasant chat about writing, and about writing in the young adult voice (because he had to do so in some of his memoir), and writing first-person, etc. Here is my half-out-of-focus photo. 

I'm really looking forward to reading his book. Later that night, after a delightful dinner with fellow YA author Vicki Grant (check out her blog about her latest project, it sounds so amazing), I met up with Jennifer Daley, a talented TV writer whom I'd worked with on "Robson Arms," and who's now working on "Seed." Over too many glasses of wine, Jen reminded me of another celebrity encounter we had together - so I'll write that one up tomorrow. 

Oh, Halifax. It was super-short, but super-fun. Oh, and if you ever get a chance, see the 24th Street Wailers - they're Toronto-based but were playing at Bearly's in Halifax over the weekend - and they were fantastic! Also, Bearly's was fantastic - there were people rocking out there between the ages of 20 and 80, and the 80 year olds were the biggest partiers of all.

Author Visits Gone Wrong

So I'm still waiting for editorial comments on my new manuscript, and unlike some highly talented writer friends I know (and envy), I find it really hard to just bounce right on to a new story. For one thing, it takes me forever to locate the next idea. But to tell myself I'm still writing every day, I've turned to my blog, hence all those Celebrity Encounters. 

I'm not really sure I should write about author visits gone wrong ... I wonder if I'm breaking some sort of unwritten author code, like "What happens in libraries, stays in libraries." But my best guess is that every children's and YA author out there has at least one awesomely humiliating story, or funny story, or crazy-making story, about a school visit gone bad, and here's the thing: I'm pretty sure I can top most of them. 

School visits are, for the most part, a fun offshoot of the children's/YA author's life. There are pros and cons, of course. For me the cons are: a) It's always somewhat terrifying, standing in front of a group of (in my case) 11, 12 and 13 year olds, and trying to keep them engaged, and b) I get tired of my own voice. Even though my own mother once bought me a t-shirt that proclaimed, "It's All About Me," I actually get tired of hearing me, tell stories about ... me. And c) if you do four per day for a few days in a row, it's exhausting. It's given me a whole new appreciation for teachers.

However, the pros outweigh the cons. First of all, it is really good to be forced out of the house and get my head out of my own butt once in a while. And the kids and teachers are usually awesome; they're engaged, and have great questions. Not all of them have read my books (at some schools, none of them have read my books), but I know at least some of them will after I've visited. So it's a way to gain a few fans. And, when I go to a school where a bunch of the kids have read my work, it is a ridiculously cool feeling to meet actual consumers of my product. I love hearing what they have to say. I love that my work actually has readers! It's a great ego-boost much of the time.

If I were to break it down, I would say 85% of my school visits are a terrific experience, 14% are just okay ... and 1% are (is?) awful. 

So. I'm going back a few years, which is why I'm feeling that it just might be okay to blog about this now. I was still very new to school visits, but was at the tail end of a full week of them in a large urban center. Things had been going great. Then I hit my second to last school. I had a bad feeling right away because they'd put me in a gym, even though I'd requested no gyms. And there were way more than 100 students, even though I'd requested a max of 100 students. To some of you this will sound precious, but it really is about maximizing everyone's experience, mine included. The presentation I do best suits smaller groups, as it's also quite interactive. But I plowed ahead.

Near the end of the presentation, I showed a photo in my power point presentation of me and my cat. This came on the heels of a photo of the entire cast and crew of a TV show I'd produced, to contrast the number of people it takes to put together a TV show, versus the number of people it takes to put together a book (I point out that there are actually quite a few people who go into putting together a book! But the photo's for contrast). 

This kid put up his hand, a seventh grader. He asked, "What is the name of your pussy?" Now. I bet your alarm bells are going off already. Mine were too, but I answered him straight. "Sam," I said, and  was about to move on to the next question when he said, "Your pussy looks good enough to eat."

Yup. I'll let that sink in a moment. 

I was completely stunned. I saw a teacher sitting near him gasp in horror. Fortunately it seemed to go over the younger kids' heads. I just muttered, "Okay, I won't be taking any more questions from you." I know - lame. But I was honestly speechless.

The presentation wrapped up a couple minutes later. The same teacher who'd looked horrified approached me immediately. "Good," I thought, "she's going to tell me they're going to deal with this." 

Nope. Instead she said, "You said you worked on Degrassi. Did you ever meet Drake?" 

I'm laughing even as I write this, because I still cannot believe that's what she said!! I replied, "No, I didn't meet Drake, and I would like permission to speak to that kid." I didn't need to say which kid; she knew. And she said, "Oh! Sure." 

And here's the part of the story that doesn't cast me in the best light, but what the hell, in for a penny. The kid was already out of the gym. I pushed my way through the other kids and teachers; I was seeing red. I saw him in the corridor and put a hand on his arm to stop him. And I tore a strip off him. I told him what a horrible thing that was to say, how inappropriate, how hard it was to stand up there in front of all these people, and would he talk like that to his mom? His sister? He looked at the ground and mumbled, "Sorry Miss, sorry Miss," over and over. 

The offending photo. It is no longer a part of my presentation - just to be on the safe side.

A few days later I received an apology from him, e mailed through the school. 

I've only shared this story with a few other writers because it is soooo cringe-worthy. But here's another funny anecdote: I told this story a while back to four male YA authors. You know what their first reaction was? "You put your hand on the student's arm??" 

Nor surprisingly, when I tell female authors, they focus on a different part of the story! 

Anyway, I know we all have tales like this - I've heard some of them from some of you, and they of course remain in the vault - but I just felt like sharing my absolute worst/cringiest one. Feel free to share yours if you want!

Celebrity Encounter #7 - The Bestest for Lastest

About thirteen years ago, when our son Oskar was 4, we took a trip to Tofino. We stayed at a really nice, newly-opened resort called Middle Beach Lodge. I think we got a good deal because it was its first season. 

The first night, we ate at the lodge. We had just sat down when this cute ten year old boy with an American accent approached us. He was totally intrigued by our little boy. He'd seen him on the beach, and thought he was really cute, and what was his name? "Oskar," I told him. "And what's your name?" "Susin," I said. "I'm Jack," he replied, then he happily wandered off. 

A few minutes later he came back. He said, "You know, it's a strange coincidence. Your name is Susin, and my mom's name is Susan. And your son's name is Oskar ... and my mom has won an Oscar." I shi*t you not, that is exactly what this kid said. My heart started to race, because I suddenly knew who his mom was - only one of my favorite actresses of all time. But trying to play it cool I said, "Who's your mom?" "Susan Sarandon," he said, "she's right over there." 

And sure enough, there was Susan with the rest of her family, at a corner table. Then - again, I sh*t you not - Jack said, "Hey, dad, dad." He was talking to someone directly behind me, who was standing at the bar. "These are the people I was telling you about, with the cute little boy." I turned, and looked up. Way, way up. "Hi, I'm Tim," said Tim Robbins, shaking my hand. 

Oh. My. GOD. Star of "Shawshank Redemption;" director of "Bob Roberts"; and, most importantly to me, the star of "Thelma and Louise," only one of my favorite movies of all time. 

So, yeah ... for the next three days, we saw the Robbins/Sarandon family constantly. Susan and Tim had no security (that we could tell). They were with all their kids; Charlie and Eva too, and another family. They were very good at having invisible shields around themselves. For example, they actually read their books (all I remember is that one of them was reading "Memoirs of a Geisha") in the main lodge sitting area, but no one would dare approach them; it was clear they were on holiday and wanted to be left alone, and everyone, me included, respected that. 

Jack, however, wanted to hang out. He found us on the beach the next day and wanted to play with Oskar. I was kind of amazed that the son of Hollywood royalty was allowed to roam so freely. Then he picked up his Motorola walkie-talkie and radioed his mom to tell her where he was. She said, "You forgot your towel, Jack." It was the first time I heard her infinitely recognizable voice. 

(And yeah, I did eventually have a mildly embarrassing one on one conversation with Susan, who was polite if understandably rather distant. I think I tried to make a connection re someone I thought she'd worked with in the Vancouver film industry, and got the name wrong, and felt like an ass. I didn't gush and tell her I loved her and thought she was beautiful and regal and aging gracefully and that I admired her politics and wished I could be her.)

The sweetest part of this story, though, is that the Sarandon/Robbins kids practically adopted Oskar. We'd walk into the restaurant in the mornings for breakfast and Jack and Charlie would call, "Hey Oskar, Oskar, come eat with us!" And our adorable red-headed four-year-old would march off happily to their table to eat with all of them. At the end of our stay (they were leaving the same day), Tim approached me, and Susan approached my husband - and told us, separately, that Oskar should be a voice on "The Rugrats." 

 I'll take my Oskar over Susan's Oscar any day. This is him, that summer.

Of course today, Oskar loves this story. But it was so great that back then he had no idea who he was hanging out with; it was just a bunch of kids and their parents who took a shining to him. 

I wish I could tell you I had more celebrity encounters, but I think that's it for now ... however, who knows what the next few years will bring? 

Celebrity Encounter #6 - Margot Kidder 'n More

So this is my second-last Celebrity Encounter post. Tomorrow is the doozy - my best and favorite tale. Today I just wanted to mention a few Canadian celebrities I met while co-producing "Robson Arms" here in Vancouver.

I got to work with two former Kids in the Hall, Mark McKinney and Dave Foley. I was (and am) a huge Kids in the Hall fan, so working with these two was a dream come true. Mark was in the very first season, in 2 episodes. I had to convince him to do it, since it was an unknown entity. This involved meeting him for lunch. I had never met him before. I was so nervous. When I saw him, I stood up, put out my arms - and kissed him on the lips. 

Oh, god. I don't know what I was thinking. I wasn't thinking. I hope he doesn't remember that moment. Miraculously he agreed to do the show, and he was fantastic.

Dave came on in season 3. He was very fun to have around. He has those boyish good looks, but he is very acerbic and darkly funny. He told us at dinner when we first met that people with his upbringing either become porn stars or comics, and he didn't have the looks to be a porn star.

In season 2 I had the great pleasure of meeting the legendary Leslie Nielsen (I used to joke that he was my long-lost father).  Everyone on set was just tickled to meet him, and he didn't disappoint. He actually carried his fart machine with him wherever he went, and would let it off behind unsuspecting individuals. Maybe he felt he had to; that it was expected of him. But he was a very gracious, lovely man.

Gabrielle Rose, Leslie Nielsen, Helena Yea, Gary Harvey, John Cassini, me, Terry David Mulligan

Robin Nielsen (Leslie's nephew), me and Leslie in the Robson Arms foyer.

Then there was Margot Kidder. Margot!! She appeared in Season 1. Yes, yes, she was Lois Lane - but I had to tell her that it was her movie, "Black Christmas," that had turned me into a fan and scared the crap out of me. I saw it when I was 16 and had to sleep in my mother's bed that night, no joke. Margot was incredible. She'd been through a lot, and yet she'd come back stronger than ever. She was a hilarious and easy-going woman to work with. Just before she had a make-out scene with Fred Ewanuick, who is much younger than her, she told him, "I'm a grandmother, you know."

I was desperate to have a photo taken with Margot, and it had to be inside, and I take terrible photos, especially inside. I always close my eyes when the flash goes off. So after a couple failed attempts, Margot held my eyelids open for me. 

Bless her! 

 

Lastly, I have one minor celeb-regret. I was staying at the Four Seasons in Yorkville in Toronto a number of years ago (I promise you, someone else was paying), and having breakfast in their restaurant. Who was sitting a few tables over but Cloris Leachman. She was with what looked to be her daughter and granddaughter. Now - I've seen other celebrities while out and about - probably the biggest being Madonna, at a restaurant in New York, just as she was becoming HUGE - and believe it or not I'm pretty good at just experiencing some internal excitement, and leaving the person alone. But I kind of regret not having a word with Cloris. I just would have said thank you for making me laugh throughout so many periods of my life - from Mary Tyler Moore, to Young Frankenstein, to Malcolm in the Middle. But it's a small regret - mostly I think I did the right thing. She was with her family, for god's sake. To be honest I was also a little scared of her! 

 

OK - my siesta resistance, as a character in my new manuscript would say, comes tomorrow ...

Celebrity Encounter #5 - A Canadian Icon

No, not Stompin' Tom, but that would've been cool, too. 

This is a shorty and a bit of a cheat because I never actually met this person face to face, but here goes.

Many moons ago, while still living in Toronto - like, around the time I was crying in the Degrassi bathroom over Barry Andrews' dick-ed-ness - I briefly dated one of the sons of a literary icon. He (the guy I dated) was a great, multi-talented, super-bright and funny guy, and I remember being blown away that he was interested (again - briefly) in me. He still is a great guy, by the way, and in fact he was even great when he broke up with me because he was honest and forthright about it. Any woman out there will know this is a rare quality in a man. 

Anyhoo, he went to visit one of his brothers in Montreal. I got home one night around midnight, and there was a message on my answering machine (remember those?) from him. He told me to call when I got in - any time. So I did. I called the number he'd left. 

A very gruff, deep voice answered the phone. "Hello." 

"Hello, is ****** there?"

"What the - do you have any idea what time it is?" 

"Um - I'm really sorry? But he told me to call when I got in?" (yes, high pitched and question-marky). 

"Just a minute." (angrily). 

See, my short-term boyfriend was not at his brother's after all, but at his parents' house.  And that, gentle reader, was my one and only encounter with one of my Canadian literary heroes, Mordecai Richler.

More next week - actually I'm close to running out of Celebrity Encounters - but I've saved the best for last ...

Celebrity Encounter #4 - Shriekback (and how it sorta changed my life)

Okay so this one will only be for people who were around in the '80's music scene. And this story is more about yours truly than the celeb. Remember "Shriekback?"

Well, I was a huge fan. They were playing, this must be around 1986, at the Masonic Temple in Toronto. I went. I don't remember who I went with - Anne Beadle, Stephanie Collins? Maybe it will ring a bell with one of them. After the show, I rather boldly stuck around, in the hopes they would let a few fans backstage. Whoever I was with chose to go home. 

Lo and behold, security let a handful of us diehard fans backstage! There was a sort of 'green room,' where they had beer and snacks, and there was the band. I was beside myself. Had a huge crush on Barry Andrews. Got up the guts to say hi to him and tell him I loved his music. He was with his young girlfriend (I mean, no younger than me I don't think) - and he was a total dick. Barely acknowledged me. He, and she, gave me the most disdainful looks, like I was dog poop on their shoes. 

Now listen - I can't imagine what it would be like, performing night after night. But if you're going to hang out after the show, and allow security to let a few fans backstage, then there's really no excuse for being a prick to said fans. Just go have a drink in your dressing room instead, or tell security "no fans tonight please, I can't handle it." 

The Partridge sisters, however, were so lovely - I think they felt my pain - and we chatted while I hastily finished my beer and cleared out. 

The point of this story isn't really that Barry Andrews was a dick. It's more about what a strange little turning point it was for me. I was truly devastated - I was only about 21 or 22, and it was my first brush with "greatness," and I left feeling worthless, like a great big zero. The next day I got up early and did the morning muffin run then picked up a bunch of actors to drive to set on the show I was working on, the first season of this little series called "Degrassi Junior High."

 

I made coffee, I served the muffins. Maybe that was the day I pinned Pat Mastroianni (Joey Jeremiah) to the wall for being obnoxious. (Hey - Pat was awesome, and a great, natural actor, but he was also about 14 years old then, and sometimes at little brat. I wasn't much more mature than he was. Imagine pinning a young actor to the wall these days - Pat, please don't retroactively sue me, you know I love you).  Then I went into the bathroom and sobbed and sobbed. What was I doing with my life? What did the future hold? I had no skills - I loved working in TV but I couldn't serve muffins forever. I felt like a speck. Goddamn Barry Andrews had made me feel like a speck! 

But maybe now, I have to thank Barry Andrews. Because sitting on the can crying led me to be determined to try to expand my horizons. Between season 1 and 2 of Degrassi - just before it exploded into the TV stratosphere and went on to be an enormous international hit - I sat down and wrote a spec script. The head writer, Yan Moore, didn't love it - but he and creator Linda Schuyler saw a spark in my writing, and gave me a shot at writing a script. That script turned into 16 scripts for Junior High and High, and launched my TV writing career. Thank you Yan and Linda!!

So, instead of saying "F*** you, Barry Andrews," perhaps I should say, "Thank-you, Barry Andrews." More tomorrow ...

Celebrity Encounter #3 - For Book Lovers Only

So this one is really only for the book lovers among you, 'cos it might not mean anything to you otherwise. But for those of you who are avid readers, keep reading. I have to save the celebrity name to the end. You know, to build suspense. Like a good writer would do. 

About 16 years ago, when my son was just a baby, the three of us - husband, me, child - went to Arizona over Christmas. We wound up at a really cool non-working ranch outside of Tucson, where we stayed in an old ranch-hand cabin. There were a few cabins, but only one other was occupied, by a couple. 

One day, on the property, we had a long chat with the couple. My husband split off to talk to the husband, and I spoke to the woman. She was charmed by Oskar, and told me they were away for the first time from their baby daughter, I think she was around a year or year and a half old at the time. They lived in Tucson, and this was a weekend getaway. We were going to visit the biosphere the next day (if you don't know about the biosphere, it is so worth reading about - fascinating on so many levels - almost like a real-life version of Stephen King's "Under the Dome" - except these scientists willingly agreed to live under their dome, I think for a year, and of course, sh*t happened). The woman, who clearly had some kind of science background or was just really frigging smart and self-taught or all of the above, told me all sorts of tales about all that had gone wrong with the original experiment. 

We also talked for a long time about the truly bizarre gated communities that dotted the Arizona landscape. She told me about the koo-koo rules that existed in these places (like, you can't even choose the colors of your walls inside your house, because someone looking in from outside might not like it), and the soaring rates of alcoholism, and the legions of "second wives," who were generally much younger than their doddering golf-playing alcoholic husbands, who were basically singing "The Ballad of Lucy Jordan" every day. 

It was a great, long, conversation. Eventually we said our goodbyes. The following day we were talking to the owners of the ranch, and I overheard the man say to my husband, "blah blah blah Kingsolver." 

Me: Excuse me? Did you just say "Kingsolver?"

Him: Yes. That was Barbara Kingsolver and her husband who were staying here.

!!!!! I just about fell over. I was, and am, a HUGE Kingsolver fan; "Poisonwood Bible", anyone? "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle ..." "The Lacuna ..." "Prodigal Summer" ... "Flight Behavior" ... 

At first I thought, "Dammit I wish I'd known!" This was immediately followed by, "Thank God I didn't know!" I never, ever would have dared to talk to her, for two reasons: 1) It's Barbara bloody Kingsolver!! She deserves a weekend away with her husband without having to talk to a devoted fan, and 2) I would have been completely tongue-tied and terrified of sounding like a moron. 

This story went over very, very well at book club, let me tell you ...

Celebrity Encounter #2 - Britney Spears

... 's mom. Had you going there for a moment, didn't I? No, I never met Britney. But I did meet her mom, Lynne. And actually spent chunks of time with her over two days in New York City. 

"How did this come about?" you ask. Well, let's do one of those nice wiggly dissolves back in time, to about 11 or 12 years ago. So, pre-meltdown, possibly even pre-K. Fed. Lynne and Britney "co-wrote' a book, called "A Mother's Gift." I'm not going to comment on the book here. You can read it if you want. I can lend you my copy.

So anyhoo, I get a call from Nelvana's offices in the US, asking if I'd be interested in adapting said book into a TV series. I said sure, and worked up a pitch. Then they asked if I'd be willing to fly to NYC and have two days of meetings - with Lynne Spears. I said, "Let me think about it." No I didn't. I said, "Hells yes!" I confess, I was really nervous about meeting Britney's mom. I mean - at that point in time she was still the biggest pop star going. I think I figured Lynne would be seriously stage mother. But in fact, she was an awfully nice person. Seemed really decent and surprisingly down to earth. 

Case in point: After our first day of meetings (where, at every stop, we played a video of Britney telling the execs how thrilled she was to develop this project, then sing and dance), Lynne - who'd chosen to stay with her son Jamie (who I also met, briefly) in Soho instead of at a hotel - took the subway with me, in the sweltering August heat, down to Soho, where we then checked out some clothes shops together before she met up with her kid. 

Then - those who know me well knew it was coming - I kind of blew any bond we might have been developing, on Day 2. After that day of meetings she offered me a lift with her driver in full air conditioning. I accepted. As we drove I marveled at how talented Britney was (remember, we'd watched that video over and over) - then I said something like, "I don't know how she manages to do all of those amazing dance moves and sing without sounding breathless at the same time!" 

I swear to you, I could see the invisible walls come slamming down around Lynne ... I was dropped off shortly afterward ... And the car squealed away into traffic (okay, it didn't, but that sounded more dramatic). I don't think I was trying to be a bitch, I really don't. I think I was honestly in awe. But possibly also just a little ... curious?

I'm trying to remember if they ever got a development deal happening. I know they didn't with me attached! I did read at some point that it was being developed into a movie, but I don't think it ever got made. 

Um. I'm sorry, Lynne. You seemed like a really nice person, who was doing her best for her kids. Me, I was left with a good story - and this: 

It says: To SusIn (I changed the "a" to an "i"): It is so good to know you. Look forward to working together. Lynne Spears." (she wrote this before that fateful car ride).

 

My Celebrity Encounters Part 1 - Erik Estrada from CHiPs

Confession: I'm bored out of my nut. I recently sent off my brand-new manuscript to my publisher (yay) but now I'm betwixt and between - waiting for news on the manuscript as well as a TV project. So, for some reason, my mind has strayed to funny celebrity encounters I've had during the course of my life and career. 

Here's something my close friends know about me: In spite of the fact that I've worked in the TV industry for years, I still get completely star-struck by certain actors (and authors - see David Sedaris story below, and singers, and creators). Over the years I've worked with many of the creme de la creme in the Canadian industry, from all the Degrassi stars (minus Drake - the original Degrassi stars, okay?) to many of the Corner Gas stars, and all sorts of popular Canadian actors on my own show, Robson Arms - Megan Follows, John Cassini, Dave Foley, Mark McKinney, Joe Flaherty - just to name a few. 

Once I've met an actor or writer or singer or creator whose work I love, I tend to calm down and be able to treat said person like a normal human being, thank god. But while I'm "in between projects" I thought I'd dole out, over the next few weeks, some of my funniest/most awesome/weird celebrity encounters. 

Today: Erik Estrada. 

I guess you have to be of a certain generation to remember CHiPs. (California Highway Patrol) and Ponch. Anyhoo, CHiPs had long been off the air when I, a lowly PA at "Degrassi Junior High" in my very early twenties, was told to chaperone and help out at a celebrity car wash with a bunch of the Degrassi cast. I don't remember what the cause was. Well, who showed up but Erik Estrada. Anais Granofsky, who played Lucy on Degrassi, was absolutely tickled because her mom had had a huge crush on Erik. I remember thinking he didn't look too bad for his age, if a bit leathery. 

We talked a bit over car-washing. I left. I found out on Monday from the car wash organizer that Erik had tried to get my phone number (the guy didn't have my phone number anyway, and I'm guessing he wouldn't have given it out, even to a fake highway patrolman). 

Now, I only have that guy's word for it that Erik asked for my number. He definitely had that rep - and of course, I was the only other person at that car wash who was LEGAL, if you get my drift. I also wonder what I would have done if he'd actually got my number and called - knowing me I probably would have tried to get a free dinner out of it, not to mention a great story. 

Oh, and in case you're curious, this is what I looked like back then ... So, if he did ask for my number, he must've been going through a dry spell!!

Tomorrow, or soon, I will post Celebrity Encounter # 2 ... Hmm, who will it be?

My Deep and Abiding Love for David Sedaris

I love David Sedaris. Let me rephrase that: I love David Sedaris's writing (actually I think I would love the man, too. He'd be first on my list of "if you could invite any five people, dead or alive, for dinner, who would they be." And Hugh, his boyfriend, would of course be invited too). Like millions of others, I am a die-hard fan. I see him read whenever he comes to Vancouver. I listen to his stories on "This American Life" and listen to interviews on NPR, WTF, Q on CBC, etc. And - of course - I read his books. I'm the proud owner of every Sedaris book ever written. I also buy copies for friends when they are ill or despondent. He is, in my opinion, one of the greatest writers of our time. He's funny, observant, shockingly truthful and deliciously bitchy sometimes, but there is a depth to his work that is profound and moving. His art with a sentence is sheer genius - I can start out laughing and end up being gutted, all with one turn of phrase. 

But even though I've seen him live a number of times, I've never had my books signed, because the line-ups afterward are so daunting. 

So this is the set-up for the story that follows. A good friend of mine who's in my book club went to Edinburgh this summer with her family. I loaned her my copy of "Let's Explore Diabetes With Owls." A couple weeks later I see, on Facebook, a photo of said friend, with her son, standing behind David Sedaris at his signing table - he did three nights at the Fringe Festival - with my book in front of him! I was so excited - amazed that they had a photo taken because he doesn't like having his picture taken, and that they got my book signed!!! I posted something along those lines - and my dear friend sent me a private message, full of remorse, that they had got my book signed - to her son. Now, I love this kid. So it couldn't have happened to a nicer person (also a huge Sedaris fan). But yes, a part of me was crushed. I knew my friend would replace the book, but it would be unsigned.

Making a mountain out of a molehill, you say? Oh god, yes, definitely! Truthfully I've never been known for my mature response to many situations. I think that's why I write YA fiction; a part of me was stunted at 13. I have, as my husband and son can attest, many reactions to things that much more closely resemble those of a teenaged girl than a grown woman. But Sedaris is to me what Justin Bieber is to millions of teenaged girls. I am somewhat obsessed and have a massive crush, although I would not carry a "Marry Me, David" sign to one of his readings.

A sidebar: I did meet David once, about 6 years ago. I was at a meeting at the CBC building in Vancouver. I knew he was in the building too, doing a radio interview. When I left my meeting I saw two CBC employees running down the hall. Now, it's a big building, but my little brain said, "They are chasing Sedaris." So I started running, too. And I was right: He was outside the building, getting into a cab, when they caught up to him. He chatted with them, and he could see me waiting behind them. He actually made eye contact and smiled, to acknowledge that he knew I was there. When it was my turn, I told him I was a huge fan, that I didn't have his books with me but could he sign my notebook? He did, graciously. Then I said, "Thanks for all the laughter and the tears." 

I was so proud of myself as I walked away ... then reality sunk in ... and I realized I'd just said something so idiotic and soapy, I just deflated. But you know what? He never made me feel like an asshole. What a standup guy. 

Cue today. My friend and her son stop by, just home from their trip. They regale me with their Sedaris stories. They were first in line to have the book signed, and David spoke to them for FIFTEEN MINUTES. He was particularly curious about her son, and directed many questions to him, like, "Why don't you tuck in your shirt?" They talked about their rented Edinburgh apartments, and the slow washing machines. He was, they say, delightful and charming and interested. How does he do that, night after night? 

Anyway - she's holding a paperback version of the book I'd loaned her (I'd loaned her the hardcover). I take it, trying to be mature about the whole thing, and tell her son I'm so happy he got his book signed. 

Then I open the cover. 

It's signed by David. It says, "To Susin: I'm so angry I missed you." 

My friend and her son went back the next night and begged to be let in just for the signing, so they could get another copy signed to me. David remembered them. I don't know if they told him they suspected I was being immature, but I love that he wrote "angry." Not "sorry I missed you," but angry. Thank you to my friend and her son. Thank you David. My day = made.