What is life but a movie?
You film one frame at a time,
From the ways that you grow to the places you go,
From the meadows you cross to the mountains you climb.
Everyone writes their own movie, and no one knows how it will end.
But we can spend each and every new day
Trying to find a brand-new way to say
To the one who’s become your best friend:
I love you, I do.
And the miracle of my life is you love me too.
And in this crazy world all around us
Love came and actually found us . . .
Once again.
—“ONCE AGAIN” BY KATHIE LEE GIFFORD FROM THEN CAME YOU
I was thrilled when Hoda called me one day to give me the wonderful news that she had adopted a baby girl and was going on maternity leave immediately. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of a new cohost every day, but I was so happy for her that I was determined to make the best of it.
We were several shows in when I learned that Craig Ferguson had been booked to cohost with me for one day. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
I’d met Craig years before when I guest-hosted on The Drew Carey Show. He was a regular on that series, and I liked him immediately. He’s impossible not to like, and his Scottish accent is nothing short of enchanting. (Yes, that is the word I choose to use because it’s true!)
The day arrived and so did Craig. He is one of those rare performers—much like a Robin Williams or Ricky Gervais—who simply commands a room instantly. In a good way. He charmed the crew and had everyone laughing and happy in mere moments. You instantly knew you’d better buckle up because this guy was going to take you on a ride. A very bumpy ride.
The show was a thrilling mixture of terror, hilarity, sexiness, and insanity, and I fell in love with the extraordinary spontaneity and organic humanity of it. I wanted more.
“Please, Tammy,” I begged our executive producer, “you’ve got to get him back here next week. He’s unbelievable!”
She agreed. And the crazy Scot showed up the next Monday for four more riotous days. We had to put a ten-second delay on the show because it was so out of control and everyone was petrified we’d get pulled off the air.
I had had an amazing fifteen-year run with Regis, and an equally amazing but different eleven-year run with Hoda, but the five days I spent hosting with Craig were mind-blowing. The constant energy, the unpredictability, the side-splitting hysteria were all things I’d never experienced. At the end of the week he suggested we have lunch before we parted ways.
“You know, Kath, if we wait for our f–ing agents to get us a job on TV, we’re going to die waiting.”
“I know,” I agreed.
“Let’s write a movie together,” he suggested.
I agreed.
Craig left New York with his wife, Megan, and son, Liam, and boarded a flight for Los Angeles. I returned to Connecticut full of creative joy and promptly fell asleep from the kind of exhaustion you can only experience when you have been with a whackadoodle whirlwind for a week.
At two o’clock the next morning I woke up knowing just what our movie should be. I got out of bed, took the dogs out, poured the coffee, and started writing my brains out! I didn’t stop until noon when I called Craig.
“Hi, Craig, it’s Kath.”
“Yes, Kath?” I could tell he was confused.
“Uh . . . you know that movie we talked about? That we were going to write together?”
“Yes,” he said.
I swallowed. “I think I just wrote it.”
“What?” he responded. “I’ve barely landed my Scottish ass home.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry. But it came to me just a few hours after you left, and I’ve been writing ever since. I’ve written six scenes. Can I send them to you?”
“Of course,” he answered. “Send them, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I said excitedly and sent them.
The next day Craig called. “Kathie, this is your baby. I stand ready to serve.”
I think my scream of joy must have been heard in the Highlands. The ensuing months were a blur. Writing, rewriting, calling investors, rewriting again, flying to Nashville to write the songs, recording the songs, shooting the videos of the songs . . . all of it. There was only one snag—we were scheduled to shoot in June, and we had not one penny invested by February. I needed $5.7 million or it wasn’t going to happen. Movies are incredibly risky crapshoots. Only fools or insanely wealthy people tend to be willing to invest in them.
I became increasingly agitated and nervous as the deadline approached to guarantee the crew, the locations, the cast, and the travel so that the Scottish tax credits were reached in order to afford to film (a common practice in the film industry to entice producers to film in their area). I was staying with my friend Anne Neilson in her home in Charlotte, doing a book tour for The Rock, the Road, and the Rabbi. We had reached the end of the line. We needed a miracle.
Five of us got on our faces in the Neilsons’ living room that day to pray. I was ready to give up, but as we all got up from the floor I said, “Is there a name that any of you can think of—someone who might be interested in our movie at this late date? Anyone?”
Immediately another friend, Anne Ferrell Tata, cried out, “George Shinn.”
“Who?” we all asked simultaneously.
“George Shinn. He’s a scoundrel, but he’s a wonderful man, and he loves Jesus and loves the arts.”
Well, I love Jesus, too, and Jesus loved scoundrels, so I said, “Call him, please!”
And she did. It was about eight thirty in the morning, but George responded immediately and said, “Have Kathie call me.”
I said a silent prayer and called him right away. I think we had a twenty-minute conversation about the movie. (He later said, “No, it was ten.”) He could not have been more lovable. In his sweet North Carolina accent he said, “Well, Kathie Lee, now you got me all fired up! But I don’t do anything without my money man, Spencer. I’ll call him and you two can talk about it.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. My heart was pounding. “Okay, George, thank you so much, but I’m about to head to the airport to catch a flight.”
“Where are ya going?” he asked.
“Palm Beach. I’m on a book tour.”
“Well, that’s where Spencer is,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll have him call you, and you two can get together.”
Which is exactly what we did. The next day. And against all odds and anything that makes sense in a real world, George Shinn agreed to executive produce a movie he had never read by a woman he had never met to be shot in four months in a place he’d never been to.
This story is God’s truth and proof that it’s not only never too late to pray about everything but also never too late to trust God to provide everything you need. And though you may not have written a movie or be needing to finance it, I’m sure there are things you’ve gone after that could be identified as “more than you can chew.” If so, consider this your nudge to do what I did—stop, drop, and pray.