Once upon a time, I took a class called “Writing for Television.” It was for writers who were well known in other writing fields. Every week I listened to people talk about how writing for television was different from other types of writing. It didn’t seem like TV writers had much control over their work. There were committees, directors, producers, and actors who would all want to make suggestions. I realized that I didn’t want to write for television.
During the course, we were given an assignment to develop a pilot for a series. My idea was to do one concerning a divorce and shared custody.
What a good idea, I thought . . . . What a bad idea to use it as a television series that would probably never be produced. So I started writing it as a book.
One day, I was shopping at a store in Woodstock, New York. The owner, my friend Nancy Kafka, walked in and said, “I just put my kid on the Divorce Express.” Boing!!! I had a title. I had great advisers—Nancy and her daughter, Aviva . . . and the Divorce Express arrived.