The Making of Broadway Bird – Part 1
In 2021 I spent a good chunk of the year working on a celebrity picture book for the lovely folk at Feiwel and Friends (Macmillan). The experience was both super exciting and challenging. So over the next few posts, I thought I’d pull back the curtain and share what goes into the making of a book like BROADWAY BIRD – ‘Cause, frankly, there’s tonnes to chat about.
Let’s start with the magical and sometimes spooky connection between life and art…
This book was a big one for me. I mean how often do you get to anthropomorphize an iconic city, particularly the glitziest, busiest most colourful part of it. As soon as I eye-balled the script I knew, the project was going to be larger-than-life, with a huge cast of characters, multiple crowd scenes, and lots of architecture from skyscrapers to wonderful old theatre buildings. There’d be theatre marquees and signage to design and letter, and plenty of dramatic theatre lighting to get just right. AND, as if that wasn’t enough, I’d be collaborating with a famous, much loved, multi-Tony-Award-winning, Broadway Director, Alex Timbers, and turning some of the brightest, most acclaimed stars of theatre – into animals…
Sheesh, no pressure then! 🫣
All things considered, this project should’ve had me running scared, arms flapping in panic like Kermit on the Muppet show. Except – the content was a perfect fit in so many ways, it almost felt like I’d been wishing it into my life for years. It was the kind of layered synchronicity that sends shivers up your spine and has you running to buy a lottery ticket.
Here’s a quick rundown of Alex’s story:
Broadway Bird is a heartfelt tale of finding the courage to be your best self. It showcases two very different worlds, the bustling world of the city and its residents and the dramatic world of the theatre and its stars. It’s a love letter to both. And we see it all through the bright eyes of Louisa, a little green parakeet whose greatest wish is to make it big on Broadway.
The script instantly struck a chord, such a gift when working on a collaborative project.
For me it instantly brought to mind early memories of my glamour-loving Nanna – she had a proper dressing table with a huge cut-glass mirror and an impressive collection of accessories, the kinds that little kids love: a shiny, silver hairbrush, gloves, bags, costume jewelry, and silky scarves. Nanna knew how to tie a scarf in so many different ways she could’ve written a book on the subject. She always looked fancy or like she was planning to be fancy, hair in curlers, freshly painted toenails poking out of her slippers.
Every time I visited Nanna we’d watch old movies together, most of them musicals from the 40s and 50s. I loved the ones with tap-dancing sailors and divas with gi-normous tutti frutti headdresses. Whilst Nanna would sigh over the diamonds, long slinky gowns, and the drop-dead-gorgeous leading men. And since all her loved ones knew she adored these shows, there was always a new VHS, or five, ready to be watched with popcorn, and ice cream.
Nanna also kept an aviary full of parakeets. At her house, it wasn’t unusual to see a budgie sitting on someone’s shoulder, nibbling a collar, chortling away in an ear, sometimes yoinking out a hair. I wished I could understand Budgie, I was convinced they were telling mind-blowing secrets.
The next brilliant thing about the script was the location, New York City – I’ve always had a fascination for The Big Apple. Bizarrely, I grew up with so many American programs on regional TV in Australia, that when I finally made it, New York felt like an old friend. It was everything I’d hoped for and so much more, a breathtaking collision of history, culture and character.
It was Gospel Choirs in Grand Central Station, soaring, glittering towers, and streets filled with yellow cabs. It was the colour assault of Times Square, the mind-boggling richness of The Met and the laughing man who conned us out of a fiver. It was thick blueberry pancakes at Jackson’s Hole diner on the Upper West Side and flappy pizza slices from a hole-in-the-wall in Greenwich Village. It was stoops, bedraggled pigeons, grungey alleys and the Flat Iron. It was amazing. At the end of each day, since I was heavily pregnant and utterly exhausted, we’d flop in front of Law and Order reruns because that’s all the TV in the hotel would play.
And then, of course, there was Louisa’s dream, to be on Broadway – super familiar to me thanks to my eldest daughter’s early interest in Musical Theatre. An interest that became a passion when we moved to the UK and she and her sister were enrolled in a small school with a dynamic drama teacher.
What followed was three years of all-singing, all-dancing theatre productions of surprising size and quality — productions of Midsummer Nights Dream, Peter Pan, Dazzle Bay, and Singing in the Rain to rival a Busby Berkley production. How on earth the teachers managed to get the entire school on stage together with twirling umbrellas and not a single mishap is a mystery.
And just when you’d think that would be enough, there’s one more spooky thing…
The show that Louisa gets her big break in is called ‘The Weasel of Oz’. I’d seen a grand total of two West End shows since our family moved back to the UK. The first of these was Wicked.
So when my agent asked if I was interested in taking on the project, there was only one answer…
Hell, yeah!
Have you ever experienced something similar? A deep connection with a creative project that defied understanding? One that you just couldn’t say no to? When it comes to your art, how much do you draw from your own life experiences? I’d love to hear about it, so please leave a comment below.
That’s about it for this one, thanks for sticking with me to the end. I will be back with the next behind-the-scenes Broadway Bird post next week. Till then all the best.
Broadway Bird is available through the links here, or through your favourite indy bookshop. If you are lucky enough to live in New York, you can also find it at the fabulous Drama Bookshop, a must for theatre lovers.