I recently got some news about my writing career from a most unlikely source: my mother. While browsing through a mystery magazine at the supermarket–she gets the Star at home–she saw a book-club ad with one of my novels among the introductory offerings.
“Oh yes, that’s right. By the way, Paul, whatever happened to your book by John DeLorean?”
Bill said Dick was a terrific guy, a consummate professional, easy to work with. He knew this firsthand, having worked with Dick on his autobiography, Rock, Roll & Remember, and his Easygoing Guide to Good Grooming. I asked about promotion, noting that Dick had deleted a clause in our contract requiring a book tour. Bill assured me that he would handle promotion and, knowing Dick as he did, he knew Dick would do anything he wanted.
After the advance was earned back through book sales, royalties would be paid in an equal three-way split. Authorship would read: “Created by Bill Adler” on one line, followed by “By Dick Clark with Paul Engleman” on the next.
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I once had a job that brought me into occasional contact with famous people, so I wasn’t too nervous about calling Dick. But I did have a slight case of the jitters. After all, in the celebrity shark tank, Dick is one big fish. And I was calling in the capacity of full partner.
Dick got on the line right away, set up a time to call back, and did so at precisely the appointed hour. Dick seemed like a nice guy. He even had a few ideas, including one about a music exec who gets murdered years after ripping off songs from a 50s roots singer. I had a few questions, including whether it was OK to mention drugs. Dick allowed that that was necessary, given the nature of the music biz, but he suggested there be an antidrug message. He wanted the story to be contemporary–even he thought the oldies bit had gotten a little moldy. He was happy to be a resource, but after we talked for about half an hour, he also sounded as if he’d be perfectly happy if he never heard from me again.
Dick said the outline had just the contemporary tone he was hoping for. But since half a dozen characters were due to be done in over the course of the book, he was concerned that reviewers might skewer him for the violence. I promised that most of the murders would take place offstage and the victims would be so thoroughly unlikable that any reader would think them deserving of their fate. Then I sat down to write my first novel not written by me.
