These two…
Cameron Sword, a pseudonym chosen by a pair of collaborative actor/writers, arrives at Vanity Press via Hollywood where the duo share over 30 years of experience. Together, they’ve written or appeared in several movies and TV series. Their novels reflect some of the types of stories they’d enjoy watching as movies or TV fare. They hope you enjoy them too.
Cameron
When the Vatican relaxed their long-time edict against eating red meat on Fridays, my parents failed to get the memo. They live in Europe and I hadn’t seen them in years and I was visiting – and it was a Friday – so I suggested we catch up over an early dinner at a nice seafood restaurant.
When I arrived I was surprised to find them already there, sitting at a table with a grim-faced old-timer priest. The requisite pleasantries hadn’t even run their course before Mom confronted me. Translated from Portuguese, it sounded something like this.
MOM: We’re very concerned about you, Son. We’ve been in contact with people who tell us you don’t seem to work much but you live in a nice place and you’re always playing golf. You’re not involved in illegal activities, are you?
ME: I wouldn’t call it golf, Ma. Shank maybe.
DAD: Don’t get smart with your mother, she’s been worried sick. And when she’s worried sick, she takes things out on me. This is my nightmare now.
The priest chimed in, advising my father to calm down, he’d take care of things – as they’d agreed. Apparently, playing the part of inquisitor fell well within his range of marketable skills. I blurted out preemptively.
ME: I’ve been living off residuals.
The priest reached under his robes, coming up with a single sheet of paper, suspicious eyes never leaving mine. Then, after affixing reading spectacles onto his cauliflower nose…
PRIEST: Twenty three co-starring roles on Scrubs, one on Cougar Town, a few commercials, one failed pilot, one independent movie, a webisode… are you telling us this type of unimpressive thespian body of work affords enough residual money to maintain your hedonistic lifestyle?
ME: No.
PRIEST: Aha! Enlighten us then. What nefarious activities supplement your income, devil child?
ME: Writing.
PRIEST: Writing? You mean fiendish books?
ME: Fiendish books earn royalties. Fiendish movies and fiendish episodic TV earn residuals. Nothing special, mostly syndicated fare, but I understand my first movie became a bit of a cult classic. It’s terrible and absolutely unwatchable but there was a lot of nudity. Unnecessary, all of it. Claire Forlani got completely naked in her acting debut for gratuitous reasons. Anyway, the project was a development deal and not based on my idea, but my mom was so proud of me for getting something produced that she sent video copies to everyone she knew. You must’ve gotten one. What did you think?
And as a type of heretical silence descended over our table, a smiling waiter approached. I ordered the steak.
Sword
Will the defendant please rise. Would you like to try that in a larger size? Just two of the many utterances I’d rather never hear broadcast in my direction. So when a colleague approached me asking if I’d like to join him for lunch to discuss combining our talents to pen a few novels, I immediately believed I had just been confronted with a new remark to add to my no-broadcast list.
Don’t get me wrong, I had often reflected on the prospect of writing a novel, but that was something I was stockpiling for my golden years, something I’d do while secluded at a cabin overlooking a placid lake somewhere. Historically, and for the time being, I was focused entirely on the mediums of film and TV – pretty much everything from acting to visual FX and a myriad of other exploits that take place on the opposite side of the lens. Admittedly, there have been a medley of ephemeral detours along the way, purposed to indulge my curiosities about the delicate intricacies of drawing and photography, but writing a novel, that was for much later.
Growing up in the Los Angeles area, the child of a parent who accumulated 128+ credits to his name including some of the most iconic films of the era – Jaws, Romancing the Stone, Empire of the Sun, Blues Brothers, Slap Shot, Animal House and Chinatown – to list a few, I caught the ‘Industry’ bug early. Movie premieres, many. Book signings, none.
I decided to take the lunch meeting anyway, partly because I was intrigued, but mostly because it came with the expressed promise of free Cadillac Margaritas. I listened carefully to the sales pitch over a couple of steaming cheese enchiladas – hold the rice and beans. Paraphrased and in no particular order and edited for brevity, it went something like this:
Hollywood has changed. It’s getting increasingly more difficult to secure funding for movies that are not sequels or inspired by comic book heroes. How many of your father’s 128 credits would’ve been made if presented today? I’m pretty good with story structure and you’re great with dialogue and we both share a complimentary skill for character development so if we can no longer make some of the types of films we’d like to watch, let’s create them in novel form instead.
There was a lot more but it was his question about my father’s 128+ credits that hit home. I became a novelist that day.