Jon Takemoto and Kim Larson at the Wallingford-Wilmot Library were endlessly patient in helping me find the most obscure references. I’m very grateful to them both.
Thanks, too, to the people of the chateau and the town of Versailles, who answered my questions patiently and never laughed at my shaky French, except the time I said, “Mon agent de voyage est un bozo.”
Of course, any mistakes that remain are my own. A few are deliberate; I hope I haven’t included too many inadvertent ones. I’ve done my best to describe historical events and to represent historical characters (including their prejudices) accurately. This is a novel—and a novel of alternate history—so I’ve chosen to include neither footnotes (which are useful in fiction only for comedy) nor a formal bibliography.
I took some liberties in the matter of titles. Writing about a society in which everyone has at least two sets of names, the novelist can leave the reader floundering to keep up with all the characters. As far as I was able, I left each person a unique title, even though, for example, Madame, Monsieur, and Mademoiselle would all more properly have been called “Your Highness” by someone of Marie-Josèphe’s much lower rank.
Thanks as always to the friends and colleagues who read and commented on various drafts of the book: Ursula K. Le Guin, Jane E. Hawkins, Kate Schaefer, Amy Wolf, Rob Jacobsen, Alyce Williams, Deb Notkin, Myriam Dupuis, my agents Frances Collin, Maggie Doyle, and Brad Gross, and my editor Dave Stern. I’m especlally grateful to Paul Preuss, who cheerfully read successive drafts. I would have fallen into several tiger pits without the benefit of his comments.
Early in the program, Amblin hosted a reception for the new workshop fellows. Steven Spielberg, whose support made WFP possible, welcomed us and said something that I think should be repeated to every student of every writing workshop no matter what the genre. I have certainly quoted him at every workshop I’ve taught since my year in Los Angeles.
He said: If you choose to stay in the movie business, right now may be the only time in your career when you can write whatever you want without worrying about whether it’s commercial or not. And that’s what you should do.
We had two schools of thought in the workshop about this advice. “He’s right,” and “He’s Steven Spielberg. He has six hundred million dollars. He can afford to say that.”
I thought he was right. It wasn’t my place to decide
But a screenplay is closer to a short story than to a novel; in order to keep the script under the dreaded l20-page mark, I had to leave out material I couldn’t bear to lose. So I wrote the novel, too. And, though a screenplay is shorter than a novel, it takes longer for a screenplay to become a movie than it does for a novel to see print. Pocket Books has scheduled the novel for hardcover publication in September 1997. As for the screenplay… One of the most important lessons I learned in Hollywood was “Never hold your breath.”
I’m very grateful to Steven Spielberg for the freedom his comments inspired while I was feeling my way into learning the screenplay form (which is much more difficult than most novelists admit); to my Universal mentor, Cary Granat, and my Amblin mentors, Jason Hoffs and Andrea McCall, for their suggestions and assistance; to Judy and Gar Reeves-Stevens and Joe La Jeunesse for their support and their friendship; to Peter Hirschmann for pulling me out of the slush pile; and to my workshop colleagues—Jon Bastian, Craig Duswalt, Jack Fashbaugh, Wendy Hammond, Yannick Murphy, Akhil Sharma, Buzz Poverman, Timothy Yapp—for their enthusiasm for the script.
Kevin Kennedy, the expert leader of the WFP workshop, saw the screenplay version of