Behind the Scenes with Ann Ireland: Making a Book Trailer

Behind the Scenes with Ann Ireland: Making a Book Trailer

Posted on December 6 by admin
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Today’s Defining Canada blog post comes from Ann Ireland, author of A Certain Mr. Takahashi (winner of the Seal First Novel Award), The Instructor (shortlisted for the Trillium Book Award), and Exile (shortlisted for the Governor General’s Literary Award for Fiction and the Rogers Writers’ Trust Fiction Prize). Her forthcoming release, The Blue Guitar, will be published on Jan. 26, 2012.

The back room of the legendary Horseshoe Tavern is dark and cavernous this mid-day. Laying two hot pizza cartons on the table, I bring in a couple of pitchers of beer for the small group I’ve assembled.

The guitarists park their cases, snap open the lids, and pull out luthier-made classical guitars, the burnished wood shining under dim overhead lights.

We are here to make a book trailer– a two minute video to promote my latest novel: The Blue Guitar. As the musicians slide instruments on laps, I begin to ask questions: How is playing in a competition different than playing a recital? What’s the worst thing that happened to you on stage during a competition?

My book centres around an international guitar competition, so I’m all ears.

“Memory lapse,” one musician says and the others nod in grim agreement. “Time stands still; you feel like you’re dying up there.”

“Good!” I say. That’s about how I’ve nailed it in the novel. The other musicians chime in with more horror stories while the videographer clambers over the banquette, searching for new angles.

I’m having a memory episode myself: I’ve been coming to this old tavern for decades. I saw Kitty Wells singing here, way past her prime; Ian Tyson performing for a half dozen of us; Sneezy Waters performing his show about Hank Williams.

After cowboys came the Punk era.

The guitarists each play a piece, the delicate acoustic tones an odd congruence to images of The Last Pogo – punk’s last hurrah. The final slices of pizza lie cold and damp and the video card is full. A last chord dies, a beautiful thrumming that coasts into the trapped air.

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