The Long-Lost Secret Diary of the World’s Worst Hollywood Director

By Tim Collins and Isobel Lundie

Meet Clara—a girl living in Los Angeles, California, in 1915. Major motion-picture companies have moved out to Hollywood, and she’s right in the middle of all the action. When she finds herself working behind the scenes in the film industry for a big-shot producer named Mr. Cheeseman, she’s determined to make it to the top in showbiz as a renowned director, no matter what.

The hilarious Long-Lost Secret Diary series puts readers inside the heads of unlucky people in unfortunate situations. The accessible, irreverent stories will keep young readers laughing as they learn the importance of not being afraid to learn from their mistakes. Get Real fact boxes featured throughout, as well as a glossary and additional back matter, provide historical context and background.

• Language: English
• Publisher: North Star Editions
• Release date: Jan 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781631633812

Tim Collins

Tim Collins worked as a copywriter in advertising before becoming a full-time author. He writes nonfiction books for adults and children’s fiction books, including books designed to appeal to reluctant readers. His work has been translated into forty languages. His books have won numerous awards including the Manchester Fiction City award and the Lincolnshire Book award. He is originally from Manchester but now lives in London.

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The Long-Lost Secret Diary of the World’s Worst Hollywood Director © The Salariya Book Company Limited 2019. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Book design by David Salariya

Illustrations by Isobel Lundie

Published in the United States by Jolly Fish Press, an imprint of North Star Editions, Inc.

First US Edition

First US Printing, 2020

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data (pending)

978-1-63163-380-5 (paperback)

978-1-63163-379-9 (hardcover)

Jolly Fish Press

North Star Editions, Inc.

2297 Waters Drive

Mendota Heights, MN 55120

www.jollyfishpress.com

Printed in the United States of America

Chapter 1

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Los Angeles, 1915

Monday, May 3rd

Okay, my pulse has slowed down a little now. I’ve finally admitted that the cops aren’t coming for me. I should never have snuck into the movie theater, and I’ll never do it again. It just seemed like such a good chance to finally see a moving picture.

Every day I go to the nickelodeons around Broadway and read the list of movies playing. Today I went to the one near 5th Street. On one side, there’s a jewelry shop with fancy necklaces and bracelets. On the other, there’s a clothes shop with lacy white dresses and big hats. But it’s the storefront in the middle you look at.

The words Picture Palace 5c are written in lights above thick white pillars and a square ticket office. At the front, there’s a board with movies listed on it:

I never have the money to go in, and Dad is being really grouchy about money right now so there’s no point in asking him for some. So instead, I stand outside and imagine what happens in the movies.

Today I thought up a story for Test of the Telephone Girl in which a robber invades the house of a rich lady talking to a telephone operator. Then there is a crazy race against time, with the telephone girl rushing on her bicycle to the house of the rich lady, narrowly missing speeding cars and trains.

The imaginary movie finished playing in my head and I looked around and saw that there was no one in the ticket office. Maybe things were so quiet in the middle of the day that the ticket girl had decided to take some time out?

Just go in, Clara, said a little voice in my head. It’s not exactly stealing, because there are empty seats inside and the theater will make the same money whether you stay out or go in.

Another voice told me it was wrong and I should go back to our apartment. But it was too late. I was already shoving the door open.

Inside was a hot and smoky room with about twenty rows of chairs lined up to face the wall where the movie was playing.

I sat in the back row and slunk down so no one could see me. I tried to enjoy the movies, but I couldn’t stop feeling guilty about sneaking in. Plus, they were showing a newsreel about the war in Europe, so it wasn’t exactly relaxing.

Finally, the newsreel finished. The title card for Test of the Telephone Girl came on, and a woman at the front started playing the piano in time with the pictures.

A bright white light shined into my eyes.

It was the girl from the booth, pointing her torch in my face.

Where’s your ticket? she asked. I didn’t see you come in.

I bolted along the aisle and out the door on the other side. The ticket girl followed me and yelled something about cops.

She was probably threatening to fetch them if she ever saw me again, but in my terrified state, I thought she was saying they were already on their way.

As I ran down Broadway, weaving my way around busy office clerks and old guys with grocery bags, I convinced myself that a gang of cops were on my tail and I needed to shake them off.

I kept thinking about what could happen if my life were a movie. I could lean a tall ladder against a fence and use it to seesaw to the other side.

Or I could leap onto a speeding automobile and wave goodbye to the cops as they threw their hats to the ground and stamped on them in frustration.

Or I could tip over a huge cart of fresh manure and let them skid into it.

I raced all the way back to our apartment, ran into my room, and hid under my blankets. I can see now that the cops were never really coming. I was just playing out movies in my head again and got a little carried away.

But it’s fine. I got away with it, and I’ll never try it again.

GET REAL

People watched early movies in small theaters known as nickelodeons in the United States. They were often set up in storefronts and five cents was the cost of admission. They typically showed a bill of short films that lasted around ten or fifteen minutes each. Films had no sound in this era, so a piano or organ would

Reviews for The Long-Lost Secret Diary of the World’s Worst Hollywood Director

[jennynau10 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A don't miss for young fans of paleontology.