And not just because I won in 2011. Because the feedback I received was top notch–the same calibre you’d expect from an MFA workshop at USC filled with the sharpest writers in the class. Even if I hadn’t been a finalist in my category and gone on to win the Gold Ticket round and the amazing critique from Kelley Armstrong, it still would have been worth the price of entering.

Check out their score sheets, rules, and deadlines (June 1st) here.

Here’s Angie Jepson modeling the result. We picked cobalt to contrast with the Redcoat uniforms and the green and yellow facade of the Shirely Eustis House.

The great thing about this style is that it is fitted, body conscious, documentable for the 1770s, and still appealing to the contemporary eye. Angie is our heroine, so we wanted her to look terrific–but also relatable.

Most of our 18th century British kit was supplied by the wonderful folks at Gedney Godwin, but Eerie Events veterans might recognize the breeches in this photo…

His stockings are still in the post…

And Kim Carrell demonstrated the art of the 18th century cravat, and the flipped “R.”

It is authentic as heck…but definitely not quick to put on. I had the option of using theatrical costumes made for quick changes. The majority of the audience probably would never have known the difference, but folks who love the 18th century would have spotted the cheats. The theatrical costumes laced up the back, where most 18th century garments closed in the front. And the theatrical versions had boning built into them. The garments we’re using don’t have boning–they’re meant to be worn over stays.

This gown in particular is intended for a much taller gal, so it doesn’t sit quite right on me, but now at least I know what order the pieces are put on and how it gets pinned closed.

In the case of The Turncoat, the premise is Rebel spy falls in love with British officer, and the primary emotion is excitement laced with the fear of danger, anger at injustice, exhilaration in fighting back, and romantic longing. The turn lines, hits, rises, and button make it possible to cram all that into 2 minutes, or three script pages. After watching a lot of trailers and talking with the director of the excellent Dawn of the Dreadfuls trailer, I decided to craft the script around two short scenes. These comprise about one and half pages of the script. The rest is visual excitement and voice over.

“the whole concept of making a movie about your book is a denigration of your book.”

Johnson doesn’t explain how trailers denigrate books, but Drew Grant in Salon feels that book trailers are,

“a fairly ridiculous concept: trying to market literature to people who would rather wait until the movie version comes out.”

And in the Wall Street Journal, Christopher Shea deplores book trailers for borrowing from the marketing methods of Hollywood.

“A promotional Facebook page or Twitter feed? They make at least as much sense as a newspaper ad, these days. But short videos about books modeled after the Dolby-enhanced, hype-saturated previews used to sell “Transformers: Dark of the Moon”?

There’s a not-too-subtle books good, movies bad thread running through these pieces, but then Shea goes on to denigrate book trailers for not being Hollywood enough:

“…yet the videos’ earnest misguidedness is part of their charm: It’s refreshing that our word people can’t fake being video auteurs.”

This assumes that book trailers are always made by the authors themselves, when in fact some authors make their own trailers, some hire production companies to make their trailers, and sometimes publishers commission or produce trailers in-house.

I haven’t been able to find another example of an author/filmmaker directing their own book trailer, though, so I’m probably alone in the wilderness on this one. And none of the pieces above gets to grips with the filmmaking in book trailers, and because of that, they miss the reason why book trailers are both too Hollywood and not Hollywood enough: they skip the step of adaptation. There’s no effort being made to translate the verbal story into the visual story.