As the Strictly Writers know, I have recently returned from a trip to EuroDisney. I also visited five years ago when my children were tiny, plus in 1992 was employed as a member of the Opening Crew. So there is quite a history between me and this centre of ‘Imagineering’ and I’m grateful to it for offering me a wealth of special memories – as a single fun-seeking young woman and as an older Madame, returning to the magic with her husband and children.
My recent trip there was the first time I had visited since I’ve been writing, and it got me thinking, as an author of commercial stories – what is Disney’s secret? No other brand of theme park comes close to Disneyland’s global success, what with the visitor numbers and merchandising revenue created by the gigantic park in Florida, plus the other three in California, Paris and Tokyo.
What struck me, on my arrival at the resort all those years ago as a young employee, was the seriousness of the Disney officials. I used to call them The Mafia, with their black suits and radio ear pieces. Our first days were spent at Disney University being drilled with the great Walt’s ethos. ‘Problems’ were called ‘opportunities’ and the words ‘not possible’, did not exist. Expectations were high and negativity stamped out. Mickey’s glass was always half-full and as employees we had to stick stringently to the Disney commandments and rules. We had to believe in our job. And everyone did. From my manager who’d left his $200 an hour job as a lawyer in the States to work at the resort, to the man testing Thunder Mountain after one of the previous dummy-runs had resulted in the prosthetic passenger being decapitated.
Then there was the attention to detail. The grass was sprayed green, just to give it that edge. I discovered that artefacts were sourced from around the world to furnish themed parts of the park, instead of purchasing cheap imitations. And when drinking after work with the ‘Cowboys and Indians’ from Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show, I found that most had grown up on ranches out in the States and lived for real the life that they were re-creating on stage – they weren’t just horse-riding actors.
Of course the ride’s the thing at the Disneyland parks and each one tells a cracking good story, whether it’s the Peter Pan Flight or intergalactic excursion on Star Tours. And they are innovative. Exciting. Scary. Heart-warming. They reduce you to tears or screams, to sighs or laughs. They move you physically and emotionally. They force you to take part.
So, as a writer of commercial fiction, what have I learned from this?
1) Set yourself high standards. Don’t see rejection as a ‘problem’, but as an ‘opportunity’ to take on board criticism and improve. Surround yourself with like-minded, positive, ambitious people.
2) Pay attention to detail. The things you may not consider important WILL matter to your readers and editors and publishers. Don’t be sloppy with anything, from your characterisation to your grammar.
3) The story’s the thing. Write something different which, at the same time, gives the reader what they need in terms of being able to empathize and get emotionally involved. Give them something memorable. Make them laugh. Make them cry. Make them part of the journey.
My recent trip there was the first time I had visited since I’ve been writing, and it got me thinking, as an author of commercial stories – what is Disney’s secret? No other brand of theme park comes close to Disneyland’s global success, what with the visitor numbers and merchandising revenue created by the gigantic park in Florida, plus the other three in California, Paris and Tokyo.
What struck me, on my arrival at the resort all those years ago as a young employee, was the seriousness of the Disney officials. I used to call them The Mafia, with their black suits and radio ear pieces. Our first days were spent at Disney University being drilled with the great Walt’s ethos. ‘Problems’ were called ‘opportunities’ and the words ‘not possible’, did not exist. Expectations were high and negativity stamped out. Mickey’s glass was always half-full and as employees we had to stick stringently to the Disney commandments and rules. We had to believe in our job. And everyone did. From my manager who’d left his $200 an hour job as a lawyer in the States to work at the resort, to the man testing Thunder Mountain after one of the previous dummy-runs had resulted in the prosthetic passenger being decapitated.
Then there was the attention to detail. The grass was sprayed green, just to give it that edge. I discovered that artefacts were sourced from around the world to furnish themed parts of the park, instead of purchasing cheap imitations. And when drinking after work with the ‘Cowboys and Indians’ from Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show, I found that most had grown up on ranches out in the States and lived for real the life that they were re-creating on stage – they weren’t just horse-riding actors.
Of course the ride’s the thing at the Disneyland parks and each one tells a cracking good story, whether it’s the Peter Pan Flight or intergalactic excursion on Star Tours. And they are innovative. Exciting. Scary. Heart-warming. They reduce you to tears or screams, to sighs or laughs. They move you physically and emotionally. They force you to take part.
So, as a writer of commercial fiction, what have I learned from this?
1) Set yourself high standards. Don’t see rejection as a ‘problem’, but as an ‘opportunity’ to take on board criticism and improve. Surround yourself with like-minded, positive, ambitious people.
2) Pay attention to detail. The things you may not consider important WILL matter to your readers and editors and publishers. Don’t be sloppy with anything, from your characterisation to your grammar.
3) The story’s the thing. Write something different which, at the same time, gives the reader what they need in terms of being able to empathize and get emotionally involved. Give them something memorable. Make them laugh. Make them cry. Make them part of the journey.
