Glenn R. Miller is the author of the new novel Rough Cuts. He also has written the novel Doorman Wanted. He has worked as a television producer and a creative director, and he lives in Minneapolis.
Q: You write in Rough Cuts’s Afterword that the inspiration for the novel came from family history--can you say more about that?
A: One afternoon, my mother-in-law Nor told me that she had spent the day going through her grandfather’s papers, including two boxes of 4x6 cards that instructed Hollywood production studios of the cuts they needed to make if they wanted their movies to be shown in the state of Ohio.
This simple comment by my mother-in-law as we were sitting on a deck overlooking the St. Croix River elicited about six questions from me, the primary one being, why would her grandfather – a minister in Marietta, Ohio – be telling Hollywood directors of the 1920s what can and can’t be included in their films?
Nor said that, apparently, he had served on the Ohio Film Review Board, an oversight committee that held the power of censorship. I said, “You mean a minister in a small town in Ohio had the power to direct, um, directors?” “Apparently so,” she said. “Now that’s a story!” I proclaimed, wagging my finger dramatically in the air. “Can I write it?” My mother-in-law, an author herself, graciously responded, “Go for it.”
Q: How did you create your characters Patrick J. Shepard and Harold Dawdry?
A: Based on that conversation with my mother-in-law, both the story and structure of Rough Cuts hit me like a lightning bolt.
All stories hinge upon some central conflict and this one had it in spades – the director who has created what he considers his masterpiece, his legacy; and the young censorship board member who sees his appointment as an entrée to the power he desperately craves.
The fact that my mother-in-law’s grandfather happened to be a minister added a layer of symbolism that I folded into my storyline.
Though my previous book, Doorman Wanted, employs a gentle humor, I always saw Rough Cuts as made for satire; that is, a more exaggerated form of humor.
Q: How did you research the novel, and did you learn anything that especially surprised you?
A: Fun question. Yes, I did a great deal of research, reading biographies of film directors and actors of the era, which provided wonderful background and a greater understanding of the challenges that those within the industry were facing during the 1920s.
I also read several histories about film censorship at that time. Prior to the conversation with my mother-in-law, I had not been aware that individual states (Florida, Kansas, Maryland, Massachusetts, New York, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Virginia) had censorship boards, thereby forcing production studios to create upwards of eight distinct copies of all of their films.
What were the states looking for? You can probably guess: sex, violence, and disrespect for authority. Of course, there are shades of grey to all of this, which is what made every single submission to a state panel such a crap shoot. For the studios, all requested (read: demanded) changes by the states incurred additional costs and delayed distribution timeframes.
Q: Do you see any echoes between the period you write about a century ago and today's cultural world?
A: Most definitely. With the advent of social media, mobilization efforts around book bannings have increased dramatically, with record highs of banned book titles in both public library systems and school library systems.
There is a marked difference between saying, “I don’t want that book in my house,” and “I don’t want that book in any house.” This is the same impulse in which members of film censorship boards determined certain films – as created – should not be seen by any resident within their state.
Q: What are you working on now?
A: A sequel to Doorman Wanted.
--Interview with Deborah Kalb. Here's a previous Q&A with Glenn R. Miller.


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