A behind-the-scenes lesson on How the Sausage Gets Made (or not made, as the case may be). Part 1 of, um, a bunch.

Almost a year ago, the agent for the Sidney Sheldon estate reached out to us to see if we'd like to give a posthumous book bearing his name its first US publication. SIDNEY SHELDON'S THE PHOENIX, written by Tilly Bagshawe. Read it, enjoyed it except for the ending, which...

...left a sequel's worth of plot threads dangling, only no sequel ever got written, hence the 1-star reviews on Amazon in the UK where the book was published. But aside from the ending, the book was a lot of fun. So we said yes, provided that Tilly or we improved the ending.

We also showed the agent the cover painting we'd use for the book.

We make an offer. Months go by. Pandemic hits. More months go by. Finally the agent gets in touch to accept the offer. Tilly doesn't want to revise the ending but we can. Would we? We do it. "Both Tilly and the Estate loved your pages! Thank you for that excellent work."

Contract drafts exchanged with agency lawyers. "We are ready to proceed to signature with this one. Please send me a clean copy for execution and I will arrange for signature." So we send the contract for signature. Deadlines loom if we want the book out for summer.

Agent assures us that, even though we don't have a signed contract yet, it WILL get signed and we should proceed with production accordingly. So we do. Invest in typesetting, graphic design, get our distributor geared up. "Jacket copy approved," says the agent. But...no contract.

Money is being spent, deadlines are more than looming. So we inquire. Oh: Mrs. Sheldon only just now looked at the cover painting we sent them 8 months ago and she doesn't like it. Can we make the woman blonde and draw in some rising flames to make the atmosphere more phoenix-y?

Fucking hell.

I point out that the character has dark hair for much of the book: "In her guest suite she would dye her hair dark brown, add some fake tattoos to her upper arms, and slip into the simple, worn clothes of Marta, the baker’s assistant from Patras." The widow doesn't care.

With only weeks to go before it's too late, we show the widow other paintings we have in inventory. She picks another one she likes better. We had it earmarked for the next Quarry book, but c'est la vie. She can have it. NOW can we get the signed contract finally??

Days go by. No word. Then the agent sheepishly says the widow is asking her "entertainment lawyer" to read the contract. Now. Days from our sales presentation, after we've spent a bundle on art and production, weeks after "We are ready to proceed to signature with this one."

Fucking hell.

The entertainment lawyer comes back with one tiny request: can we add an "MFN" clause guaranteeing that no other Hard Case Crime author ever gets more favorable terms than dead Sidney Sheldon, for a book he didn't even write?

No. We're very sorry. We have living writers who actually write books, and sometimes they deserve more favorable terms than your dead client. We made an offer, you accepted the offer, we relied on your acceptance, you can't pull this now.

But of course he can. "Entertainment lawyer" kills the deal. Almost a year of work, thousands of dollars spent, and the whole thing turns to ash with a snap of Thanos' fingers.

I feel bad for the agent, who has a poultry farm's worth of egg on his face. I feel bad for Tilly, who probably would've liked to see her book published in the US. I feel bad for us. Is there anyone I don't feel bad for?

Yes: Max Allan Collins. He gets his cover back. Look for QUARRY'S BLOOD in 2021.