Smiling in the face of adversity

Top of my wish list for physical improvement is a smaller (much smaller), pert bottom. But this is closely followed by decent eyebrows. I hate mine. They are too thin and one of them isn’t nearly long enough.

I was in Beverly Hills for a screening of The Making Of Plus One… the mockumentary inspired by my book and in which I have a cameo role. Fearing that filmgoers might judge my pathetic brows, and as I was in the hood, I visited the premises of one Anastasia. Not only is she the world’s most expensive eyebrow plucker, Anastasia sells a range of products to give us eyebrows to be proud of.

An assistant offered to demonstrate their most popular products. The screening was in an hour and I was thrilled at the chance to look like a film star. She found a template of the perfect brow for me after measuring angles and doing various calculations. I loved it that she was taking my plight so seriously.

Twenty minutes and $122 later, I left the store with Anastasia’s Essential Brow Kit and the thickest eyebrows since Joan Crawford. I had been feeling very guilty about the expense of the ’brow kit because Colin and I have been on a strict “is it a want or a need?” regimen, as recommended by financial guru Suze Orman. The guilt soon dissipated when Colin received a $500 traffic ticket.

My mood was cheered by attending the star-studded BAFTA/LA Britannia awards with filmmaker Mary McGuckian as her plus one. The highlight for me was Kirk Douglas singing ‘Maybe It’s Because I’m a Londoner’ after he was presented with an award by Arnold Swarzenegger for his contribution to film entertainment. Also honored were Robert De Niro, Colin Firth, Emily Blunt and Danny Boyle. Stephen Fry did a great job hosting and Ben Stiller gave a funny speech presenting Robert de Niro’s award. I suspect Colin Firth regrets asking Minnie Driver to present his.

The best night of the week for me was watching DV8 Physical Theatre’s astonishing performance at Royce Hall with some dear old friends. Back in the day, Julia shared a council flat in Camden with Angie Giles (another great singer/songwriter) and Lloyd Newson. Lloyd was a dancer who went on to achieve international acclaim as DV8’s artistic director and choreographer. Lloyd and Angie had been introduced by Angie’s brother, designer Steven Giles. Check out Steven’s store, www.baseworld.com.

Angie and Steven are pictured above at the DV8 show with Julia who had to borrow my glasses to read the program.

I remember visiting the London flat and first glimpsed the artistic life. I knew then that the four of them were extraordinary people leading extraordinary lives and how honored I felt to even be in the same room as them.

Steven and Angie flew in from Miami for the show and we have had an incredible reunion, catching up and reminiscing. I won the prize for “most financially challenged but with more creative irons in fires.” Who spotted the unintentional gay pun? I tried ‘fingers in pies’ but that sounded worse.

Must dash. Colin and I are moving out today. It’s not as stressful as I’d expected as we no longer need to pack up and store our furniture. Another friend was looking for somewhere furnished to rent for three months and is now moving into our lovely apartment. We are leaving all our stuff apart from family photos and clothes. That reminds me, I have to cancel the storage and the movers.

Not so easy street....

America is out of the recession. Or so it was reported last week. I’m not so sure. All year, Colin and I have been limping financially from month to month, and we have decided not to renew the lease on our apartment.

We’re moving in with friends for three months to re-group and will then probably rent in Park La Brea. We’ve looked at loads of places and really like these apartments by The Grove. And they’re cheaper than those by the beach. Our kind and generous chums have a fabulous house with plenty of room for us. It was their idea. I suspect more people than we realize are moving in with friends and family until the recession really passes.

My Man Child has suggested we go to Fiji, where folk can live like kings for $1,000 a month. Colin and I can write anywhere. Plus, Colin’s family lives in New Zealand – not too shabby and not too far from Fiji.

One friend’s son and his young family are moving to Bali. Neither he nor his wife can find work in LA, but already have jobs lined up there. They know someone who rents a big house on the island with a swimming pool, nanny, housekeeper and gardener, all for $400 a month. If her son likes it, my friend might move there too.

I’m still hopeful one of my creative projects will take off. The Making Of Plus One… is screening well in LA and the director thinks it will get picked up for distribution. If it goes straight to DVD, it could still make money, probably more than if it gets a theatrical release, because the marketing and print costs aren’t so high. And there’s no longer the stigma there once was. Director Mary McGuckian is already planning a sequel and wants me to be involved.

Mary is so well connected. She got us VIP tickets to the U2 Rose Bowl gig. I swear we had the best seats in the house. Amazing. There’s a difference between being broke and poor.

My literary agent is shopping my second book proposal to publishers and referred to its brilliance in a recent email. But I fear the publishing industry is going the way of the music business. The days of the big advance are over and punters want their music, books, newspapers and magazines for free. Yikes.

I have other options. My producing partner and I have shot the sizzle reel for my reality TV show idea. The shoot couldn’t have gone better. Two weeks to edit, then her agent and my manager can try and sell it for us. While we were out filming, a pleasant-looking man of about 30 walked into the frame and sat down nearby. This turned out to be a happy accident from our point of view, so I asked him if he’d be so kind as to do it again. He told me he would be happy to help. As we walked back to the others, he said he was homeless and asked if I could spare a couple of bucks for some food? I gave him five. A year ago, I’d have given him the twenty dollar bill I had in my purse. I’m telling you, this recession is far from over.

The wonderful singer/songwriter Celia Chavez referred to a book by Steven Pressfield, The War of Art, in her blog. Celia wrote:

"The premise of this book is that resistance is a creative person’s tireless and impersonal nemesis, and you have to resign yourself to battle it. You will encounter the worst and most heartbreaking obstacles around that which you are most called to do. It defines the different forms resistance takes and recommends that an artist hunker down and assume the mentality of a professional soldier in an endless conflict."

Most people who achieve success would agree that luck plays a part. Maybe they were in the right place at the right time, or knew someone who knew someone who could help or guide them. Yes, it’s a battle at times, but the harder we work, the luckier we are. And the ones who make it are the ones who don’t give up.

Getting warmer

There is movement on “The Making Of Plus One…” front. The L.A. push begins this month. There’ll be a screening for family and friends at the William Morris Endeavor agency on October 22^nd at 6pm to start a word-of-mouth buzz within the industry.

On October 26^th at 7.30pm at the Harmony Gold theatre on Sunset, BAFTA/LA is holding a screening for its members, followed by a Q & A with director Mary McGuckian and the cast (including me).

The movie will also be premiered to selected press at the AFI/AFM at the Fairmont in Santa Monica at 5pm on November 4^th.

RSVP to screenings: info@pembridgepictures.com

Here’s the trailer:

I had a meeting with a top talent manager last week who wants to represent me and is confident she can get me work that doesn’t involve looking after children. I’ll tell you how successful she is: she just secured a $7 million dollar deal for one of her clients and it costs $24.50 to park for less than an hour at her fancy offices on Century Park East.

Clairey Poppins

Last month, a number of celebrities, including Jennifer Aniston and a few much lesser mortals like myself, had their websites blocked by Google because, the company claims, they had been hacked and big chunks overwritten with malicious code. My top mate and now official web mistress, Diane Aldred, managed to remove the evil code then realized it was easier to design and write a new website than try and resurrect the old one. See what an amazing job she did: www.clairefordham.com. The photo above of me with Diane was taken at my Dad’s 80^th birthday party last May.

So, I have one movie in the can (to be premiered in LA in November), another in the works, my literary agent is shopping my latest book proposal to publishers, I have found a fabulous producing partner for my TV reality show idea – for which we are very soon going to shoot the “sizzle reel” – and I am putting the finishing touches to draft 683 of the screenplay actually based on my book, Plus One: a Year In the Life Of A Hollywood Nobody.

You could be forgiven for thinking I am doing rather well. However, I don’t know if you’ve heard, there’s a bit of a recession going on. So freelance writers like me are not exactly raking in the cash and I have been forced to take (gulp) employment to buy luxuries like food. I now babysit.

The first time I looked after five-year-old Melanie, she asked me if I had ever seen Mary Poppins and would I like to watch it with her? Oh yes. I had absolute joy in my heart as we sang along to all the songs at the tops of our voices.

Melanie asked me to sing to her and rub her back like her mum does when she tucks her into bed. I sang as much as I could remember of “Feed The Birds, Tuppence a Bag” while I rubbed her back.

She said: “I love you, Claire.”

I said: “I love you, Melanie.” And I really bloody do.

I have two other occasional charges – siblings Mitzi and Paul. Before I tell you about these two slices of perfection, please know how hard it is for me having so many Ms in my life: my daughter, my son, two nieces, Muttley the dog, my brother and the two little girls I look after. I don’t call any of them by the right name first time and have been known to go through the entire list of Ms before I get it right. I will never judge my parents again for calling their children by the wrong name.

I have vowed to be the best darned babysitter ever until one of my creative projects hits the jackpot. And frankly, I am. I happily and energetically play Teen Titans with Mitzi and Paul. Paul is Beast Boy, Mitzi is Starfire and I get to be Raven, who can lift really heavy things. Paul runs around shouting: “I am not a man. I am an animal.” I run around flexing my, erm, muscles.

Once Mitzi and Paul had grown bored with that, they showed me the family photo taken at their uncle’s wedding. They painstakingly went through everyone, explaining who they were, how old, how nice, etc. I asked if they saw much of their mum’s family.

Mitzi, aged five, said: “Our mom’s dad, Big Papa, died young. He ate hamburgers. You shouldn’t eat cow if you want to live a long time.” Mitzi skipped off and came back carrying a heavy box wrapped in green velvet. “This is Big Papa. He was cremated. His tiny bits of bone and stuff are in this box.” Paul, aged seven, said: “Big Papa may be in heaven, but he’ll forever be in our hearts.”

It felt like a change of scene would be a good idea, so I suggested a swim in the communal pool. There’s a “No Running” sign by the pool, but Mitzi and Paul, like all children, prefer to dive or jump in, get out, run round to the other side and dive or jump in again. Fearing they might break a limb on my watch and wondering why they kept ignoring my requests to slow down, I asked them in my best Mary Poppins voice: “Now children, what’s the number-one swimming pool rule?”

Paul replied confidently: “No farting.”

Here’s a picture of me with three of my Ms.

Habit forming

Just had a long phone chat with Mary McGuckian, the writer/producer/director of The Making Of Plus One…

Here’s the latest scoop. It will be properly premiered at the American Film Market early November, located very conveniently just up the road from me in Santa Monica, followed by a BAFTA/LA screening later in the month. Then WIFTS (Women in Film and Television Society) will honor Mary and her brilliant film-making skills and screen the movie in Los Angeles at the end of November.

Mary has just returned to France, after spending two weeks in the Italian monastery where St. Benedict once lived, writing a sequel to The Making Of… (I just re-read this line and want to make it clear that it is Mary, not St. Benedict, who has written the sequel). It wasn’t so long ago, while she was going through the hell of financing, filming, editing, refinancing and trying to sell The Making Of… while coping with the ensuing mental and physical debilitation, that Mary told she would never make another film. Now she wants to go through the whole process again. That woman has metaphorical balls of steel.

Before finalizing distribution for The Making Of Plus One Starring Cate, Kate and George, The Story Of A Hollywood Nobody and reimbursing those financiers, Mary is now working on another ‘mockumentary’ featuring the same stellar cast (including, ahem, Julia and me). This time it’s about trying to get a distribution deal for Plus One... The opening scene will be a bunch of industry types yawning at the end credits of the three-and-a-half-hour director’s cut of a (pretend) movie based on my book. It will be shot entirely in Los Angeles.

I am not going to even try explaining this to my parents.

It's in the stars

I am back from Cannes and the most amazing time. The first night was a spectacular party on the company yacht of one of the film’s producers. Our party was by far the most happening of all along the jetty. Really.

The Making Of Plus One Starring Kate, Cate and George, The Story Of A Hollywood Nobody was indeed screened, but not without some drama. It was a packed cinema full of invited guests. I was introduced as the author of the original book, some of the cast was there who also took a bow then the lights dimmed. Surely, the most exciting and nerve-wracking moment in any film maker's life.

Five minutes in and the picture disappeared from the screen. The new digital projector had crashed. It started again after the longest three minutes of my life. Then it crashed again. This time the audience was getting restless. You could feel it in the room that the famously impatient Cannes moviegoers were about to leave. The director and producer had raced upstairs to the projection room, the associate producer (a man) was crying. I knew something had to be done to stop people leaving so I stood up, pulled out the copy of my stars from the day before's Daily Mail (May 16th) that I had torn out from the paper on the flight over and read the following: (I am not making this up!). I'm Pisces by the way:

“Lights, camera action… roll ’em! Here comes another dramatic scene in the action-packed adventure movie of your life. Another roller coaster ride to take you high up to the breathtaking mountain of glorious expectation and then send you hurtling towards the deep, dark valley of disappointment. Another heart-pounding, jaw-clenching nerve-wracking experience. How worried should you be? About as worried as you get when you go to watch a film projected on the silver screen. Or when you climb aboard a ride at the fair. Things are more under control than you imagine. A cosmic hand is guiding you now, towards a truly pleasing future.”

It brought the house down. Nobody left. The director and the producer feared everyone would have gone when they came back into the theatre, but people were laughing and chatting. Astrologer Jonathan Cainer and I had saved the day. The movie started up, everyone stayed and seemed to enjoy it. You can't fake these things. There were no distributors in the audience who might have bought it - little business has been done at this year's festival, but there's been massive buzz and the producers are now taking it to Los Angeles to screen here.

For me, the most enduring lesson in all of this is that the process to fund and complete a feature film is phenomenally tough. Any movie that makes its way into production should be commended for its very existence, whether it receives critical acclaim or not.

Dad says his 80th birthday was his best ever. Julia’s UK gigs were triumphant sell outs. Both venues said they could have sold out three shows. I’m glad Julia was in Japan and missed Cannes as I think she might have broken down and wept when she heard the song she wrote especially for the film over the end credits. Her beautiful ballad had been massacred into the most heinous thumping disco beat. Not sure whose idea that was but it was a crap one.

All in all a brilliant trip, another reminder that a life lived well is one filled with love and fun times with family and friends. My Cannes experience wouldn’t have been half as much fun if my pals Diane Aldred, Sheran James and Levi Freeman (pictured above) weren’t there to share it with me.

Yes, we Cannes!

I am writing this on my new laptop, a Toshiba, that my Man Child bought me for my birthday. I think I might have had more children if I’d realized they could one day provide so generously for me.

It has been a rollercoaster few weeks. Colin and I house- and dog-sat for some friends whose fabulous place is right under the Hollywood sign off Beachwood. Our charge, Delilah, had a bladder infection that involved the need for a doggy diaper. I was sorely tempted to take a photo and show you how funny she looked, but decided against it in case Delilah’s owners sued me or, worse, didn’t ask us to stay there again for ridiculing their beloved bulldog/pit bull. Yes, that’s right, half pit bull – the great white of the canine family.

Many dog lovers think the pit bull has a bad press (certainly Delilah is a sweetheart who never barks), but not a friend who turned up for dinner with her toddler, took one look at Delilah and called a babysitter to come and get the kid.

The next weekend, Colin was invited to the launch of the new Audi Q5 to write a review for European Car magazine. He looked at me over the top of his own laptop (a Mac) and wondered if I might like to go as his plus one. I politely declined until I learned the launch was an all-expenses-paid weekend at The Biltmore in Santa Barbara. I have dreamed of staying there.

It was everything I hoped and more. Margaritas (fancy ones with Cointreau) by the pool, amazing food, endless champagne, a cruise, tennis on the astroturf court, croquet, a suite, matching bathrobes, a mountain bike ride along the coast and staff – lots of staff. This is where I belong, I thought.

Having tasted and enjoyed living in the lap of luxury, you can understand how excited I am that ‘The Making Of Plus One…’ is being launched at the Cannes Film Festival on May 17. It was screened for the selection committee yesterday but canny director Mary McGuckian has hired a cinema to launch it there with a big fanfare whether it gets into the competition or not. With some 3,000 films competing for 16 slots, the chances are slim.

And I got paid the movie money I’ve been waiting for and assured was coming for almost a year. There was much rejoicing in our small but perfectly formed apartment when the money was wired into our account. This was an important moment both psychologically and practically.

I have booked my flights and will be staying in a lovely little hotel my friend Sheran found (and has sworn me to secrecy as to its location). She and another great friend, Diane, are also flying to Cannes to share this amazing trip with me. Julia will miss it because she has gigs in Japan, but she wrote a song for the movie and she’s in it for about five minutes.

Here’s a link to a trailer for the film. The distributor, New Films International, has retained the services of a top PR firm, DDA, to promote it. ‘The Making Of Plus One…’ sets things up nicely for the movie actually based on the book. I shall be armed with copies of the book and my adapted script, and will be in Cannes networking shamelessly to sell said wares.

In the meantime, my literary agent is shopping my latest book proposal to publishers. It has been rejected by four to date but is still on some good desks, I’m told. I take comfort in the fact that the first Harry Potter book was turned down by 12 publishers before Bloomsbury bought the manuscript for a paltry 1500 quid. Unfortunately, I’m not JK Rowling. And there’s a recession.

Whatever happens, this has been a wonderful adventure and Mary McGuckian has pulled off a series of miracles to get our little movie funded, finished and set for its big launch.