by Nick Mamatas
Then Soft Skull’s distributor went bankrupt. Soft Skull, which often borrowed money from the distributor to pay its printing bills, nearly went along with it. Instead of a copy-edit, Under My Roof got a once-over by an intern. Thanks to a missing scene break, the meaning of the end of the book was literally changed to something much darker and sadder than I ever intended. The great cover concepts were too expensive to actually produce, so instead the book got a stock photo of a cloud and a white band. My agent of the time described it as a cover more suited for “a breast cancer memoir” than a satire about nuclear war and nuclear families. The book stayed on a loading dock for a month, and the remainder of my advance wasn’t paid for another eight months. I was lucky, in a way, as the book was printed but not distributed on time, so it wasn’t considered an asset.
Despite the problems, the book got decent reviews, and also appeared in German and Italian. A review in the San Diego Union-Tribune not only called it “the great American suburban novel,” it led, five years later, to a phone call from a San Diego–area maker of commercials and industrial films. He wanted to do a feature, and thought my book would be perfect, as most of the action is limited to a house and a nearby convenience store. Maybe the budget would be a million dollars. Maybe two million. I’d get several percent. We drew up an option agreement, and I wrote my first script for an extra pittance, and a promise of more money were it used.
For a long time, nothing happened. Eight months later, I heard back from the filmmaker. His wife had a new draft of my script, and they wanted me back in to write a third, happier version. As it turns out, I was better at writing my characters than someone else. So, I did it. Then, more months of waiting. More drafts were written without my input. My voicemail messages went unanswered, as did my emails. Then I received the fifth or sixth draft of the script for Under My Roof: The Movie.
The kid had a girlfriend.
By the ninth draft the girlfriend was gone, and another year had passed. The option was renewed, as was the silence. Then, one evening, I got an email. There was a draft that made everyone happy. Money was raised—around a quarter of a million bucks, of which I’d earn several percent. An IMDbPro page was created, casting calls went out, a poster was mocked up, and an official film Twitter account launched.
Then, for a long time, nothing. Casting a film is difficult on a quarter of a million bucks. Maybe the script wasn’t so great after all; maybe it wasn’t so funny when a real-life kid actually had to say the lines. Maybe the Obama presidency meant that the war-mad Bush years could be forgotten. Then, some test footage was shot of a certain practical effect.
Here’s an interesting fact: a film option is an agreement that at some future date, a producer can purchase a screenplay, or an idea for a film. The option basically just takes it off the table for everyone else while the producer tries to raise money and line up talent. But an option is realized—that is, the idea is purchased—not when a film comes out, or even when it is completed, but when a single frame of film or a tiny bit of digital data is recorded.
The test footage counted. I got a check for several percent of a quarter of a million dollars!
And then, nothing. Unanswered email, unanswered Facebook messages, unanswered voicemails. For years.
To this very day.
But Under My Roof lives again, and just in time.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Who else is there to acknowledge in the final page of a short story collection, save the editors of the short stories? So thank you Sean Wallace, Sheila Williams, Brian Thornton, Jason Sizemore, Brian Slattery, Aaron French, Cameron Pierce, Ellen Datlow, John Joseph Adams, Neil Clarke, Shawn Garrett and Alex Hofelich (they’re a team), and Richard Peabody. That’s in no particular order, by the way.
Also, thanks to Richard Nash for Under My Roof, frequent first readers Carrie Laben and Molly Tanzer for their help on many of these stories, and Jacob, Jill, and Elizabeth from Tachyon for the book you are reading right now.
I’d also like to acknowledge the casual Facebook game Cookie Jam for getting me through many evenings of procrastination.
NICK MAMATAS is the author of several novels, including Love is the Law, I Am Providence and the forthcoming Hexen Sabbath. His short fiction has appeared in Best American Mystery Stories, Year’s Best Science Fiction & Fantasy, and many other venues.
Nick is also an anthologist; his books include the Bram Stoker Award winner Haunted Legends (co-edited with Ellen Datlow), the Locus Award nominees The Future is Japanese and Hanzai Japan (both co-edited with Masumi Washington), and Mixed Up (co-edited with Molly Tanzer). His fiction and editorial work has been nominated for the Hugo, Locus, World Fantasy, Bram Stoker, Shirley Jackson, and International Horror Guild awards.
Nick lives in the San Francisco Bay Area.