That Time I Spoke to Arthur Rankin, JR (Yes, THAT Arthur Rankin)
Eight years ago, I had a conversation with Mr. Arthur Rankin, JR about a Christmas story I was developing. I'm a small potatoes author now (barely a spud in the ground back then), but with the help of a well-connected and supportive friend, I got to pitch something of mine to the man who gave us Santa Claus is Coming to Town. It's true, I swear, but I'll save you the suspense -- things don't pan out like I'd hoped.
So, here we are, November 2014.
My book The Christmas Witchling is going up and down Amazon's List of Bestselling Children's Christmas eBooks. And suddenly I find myself remembering Arthur Rankin, JR and his unexpected phone call.
This recent October, I revisited The Christmas Witchling -- updating its cover, reformatting its layout, revising its unclear portions of text (for me, it remains unfinished until I retool a weak ending, have it properly illustrated, and republish in hardcover). When I wrapped things in a pretty bow, I resubmitted my files to KDP and CreateSpace and called it a day. Then I realized something, a memory I'd put into storage -- had it not been for Mr. Rankin, The Christmas Witchling wouldn't exist.
Flashback to December 2005, one month before the miracle meeting was to take place. A friend of mine who worked in radio at the time read a rough draft of a new story I'd been tinkering with, how a brave Witchling girl named Tulalulalen Flue saves Christmas.
I had an outline, some sketches, and a story threaded in weak poem form -- believe me, the outline was the better read. Anyway, my friend liked the concept, so she spoke to Arthur Rankin, Jr. about it, and he had me send him a proposal.
For those of you who don't know who this man is, let me jog your brain.
Yes, an opportunity to speak to the creator of America's classic Christmas TV specials fell into my lap. Yes, the co-founder of Rankin-Bass Productions, one of the geniuses behind Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer and The Year Without a Santa Claus (my personal favorite to this day, a fact I'd later gleefully relay to the poor man) -- he wanted to speak with me. I couldn't believe it.
After forwarding my outline and story treatment, I didn't think I'd hear back from him. Come January 2006, exactly a month to the day later, Mr. Rankin calls me to speak about the story proposal I sent. For a solid thirty-seven minutes -- well, after I was done gabbing about his awesomeness for the first five -- we talked about my work. He gave me his honest thoughts about its potential and whether it would be a fit for Rankin-Bass Productions.
"The story has promise," Mr. Rankin told me, "but it's far too underdeveloped and in need of a real polishing. The idea is solid enough to develop further, so long as you forgo the poetry and use your own whimsical prose. Your voice is evident in the story outline."
Regarding my (pathetic) proposal, Mr. Rankin was quite candid as to what many media companies typically do before they consider optioning any story -- they ask whether it's already in the public eye.
"The days of producing original, untested stories like yours are over," he told me. "Now we only consider well-received, popular or established works to bypass the risk. When your Witchling is a book with sales and fans, give me a call. Here's my private number, just so you know I'm serious."
The Christmas Witchling
We finished our conversation by sharing favorite (and brief) family-at-Christmas anecdotes -- and then, like a bonehead, I vomited about how much I loved his production of The Hobbit back in 1977, how it shaped and directed my imagination toward my lifelong love of myth, fantasy and science fiction. I read The Hobbit because his version inspired me to read it. I even told him how my mother thought she was the one responsible for that.
Mom, I love you, but handing me a book is not the same as inspiring me to read it (which brings to mind the old adage about horses and drinking water).
Flash forward to the present.
The Christmas Witchling is available as an eBook and a softcover. I find it funny how a conversation back in January 2006 was my secret northern star for the years I didn't touch the story. I didn't abandon the thing.
It merely sat on a shelf until I was ready to do what Arthur Rankin, JR told me to do. And so, after dusting off my pages of outline and that godawful poetical story treatment, and then excavating crumpled pages of Mr. Rankin's critique notes from the bowels of a notebook bin, I restructured the narrative into whimsical, once-upon-a-time prose; I hired an artist to illustrate it; and after my editor thumbs-upped the final draft, I published it in December 2012.
I'm not saying I created a masterpiece -- it still needs a lot of work to suit my tastes -- but it's a fun little yarn, and people seem to enjoy it. Since initial release, it has sold close to 2000 copies (I'd add worldwide, but it sounds silly -- true, but silly nonetheless).
And you know what? I still have Mr. Rankin's phone number. I haven't called it, and I have no plans to call it, but I do have it in my desk drawer. Yes, my Christmas story is a published book with a handful of fans, but it's not The Lord of the Rings, you know.
D. B. Patterson
amazon.com/D.-Byron-Patterson/e/B007M...
facebook.com/dbpatterson.author
So, here we are, November 2014. My book The Christmas Witchling is going up and down Amazon's List of Bestselling Children's Christmas eBooks. And suddenly I find myself remembering Arthur Rankin, JR and his unexpected phone call.
This recent October, I revisited The Christmas Witchling -- updating its cover, reformatting its layout, revising its unclear portions of text (for me, it remains unfinished until I retool a weak ending, have it properly illustrated, and republish in hardcover). When I wrapped things in a pretty bow, I resubmitted my files to KDP and CreateSpace and called it a day. Then I realized something, a memory I'd put into storage -- had it not been for Mr. Rankin, The Christmas Witchling wouldn't exist.
Flashback to December 2005, one month before the miracle meeting was to take place. A friend of mine who worked in radio at the time read a rough draft of a new story I'd been tinkering with, how a brave Witchling girl named Tulalulalen Flue saves Christmas.
I had an outline, some sketches, and a story threaded in weak poem form -- believe me, the outline was the better read. Anyway, my friend liked the concept, so she spoke to Arthur Rankin, Jr. about it, and he had me send him a proposal.
For those of you who don't know who this man is, let me jog your brain.
Yes, an opportunity to speak to the creator of America's classic Christmas TV specials fell into my lap. Yes, the co-founder of Rankin-Bass Productions, one of the geniuses behind Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer and The Year Without a Santa Claus (my personal favorite to this day, a fact I'd later gleefully relay to the poor man) -- he wanted to speak with me. I couldn't believe it.
After forwarding my outline and story treatment, I didn't think I'd hear back from him. Come January 2006, exactly a month to the day later, Mr. Rankin calls me to speak about the story proposal I sent. For a solid thirty-seven minutes -- well, after I was done gabbing about his awesomeness for the first five -- we talked about my work. He gave me his honest thoughts about its potential and whether it would be a fit for Rankin-Bass Productions.
"The story has promise," Mr. Rankin told me, "but it's far too underdeveloped and in need of a real polishing. The idea is solid enough to develop further, so long as you forgo the poetry and use your own whimsical prose. Your voice is evident in the story outline."
Regarding my (pathetic) proposal, Mr. Rankin was quite candid as to what many media companies typically do before they consider optioning any story -- they ask whether it's already in the public eye.
"The days of producing original, untested stories like yours are over," he told me. "Now we only consider well-received, popular or established works to bypass the risk. When your Witchling is a book with sales and fans, give me a call. Here's my private number, just so you know I'm serious."
The Christmas Witchling
We finished our conversation by sharing favorite (and brief) family-at-Christmas anecdotes -- and then, like a bonehead, I vomited about how much I loved his production of The Hobbit back in 1977, how it shaped and directed my imagination toward my lifelong love of myth, fantasy and science fiction. I read The Hobbit because his version inspired me to read it. I even told him how my mother thought she was the one responsible for that.
Mom, I love you, but handing me a book is not the same as inspiring me to read it (which brings to mind the old adage about horses and drinking water).
Flash forward to the present.
The Christmas Witchling is available as an eBook and a softcover. I find it funny how a conversation back in January 2006 was my secret northern star for the years I didn't touch the story. I didn't abandon the thing.
It merely sat on a shelf until I was ready to do what Arthur Rankin, JR told me to do. And so, after dusting off my pages of outline and that godawful poetical story treatment, and then excavating crumpled pages of Mr. Rankin's critique notes from the bowels of a notebook bin, I restructured the narrative into whimsical, once-upon-a-time prose; I hired an artist to illustrate it; and after my editor thumbs-upped the final draft, I published it in December 2012.
I'm not saying I created a masterpiece -- it still needs a lot of work to suit my tastes -- but it's a fun little yarn, and people seem to enjoy it. Since initial release, it has sold close to 2000 copies (I'd add worldwide, but it sounds silly -- true, but silly nonetheless).
And you know what? I still have Mr. Rankin's phone number. I haven't called it, and I have no plans to call it, but I do have it in my desk drawer. Yes, my Christmas story is a published book with a handful of fans, but it's not The Lord of the Rings, you know.
D. B. Patterson
amazon.com/D.-Byron-Patterson/e/B007M...
facebook.com/dbpatterson.author
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