The Millionaires

Nope. I have a sister (the Charlie to my Oliver and the Oliver to my Charlie)—but to write the book, I spent months interviewing all my friends who had brothers, trying to pick out the subtle things only brothers can share. In the end, Charlie and Oliver just came to life in my head—and I still think about them, if that makes sense.

Real. Real, real, real (creepy, ain’t it?). And after researching books on the White House, the Supreme Court, and the Capitol, I can honestly say that Disney keeps its secrets better than all of them combined. No lie. You wanna know who should be the head of Homeland Security? Michael Eisner. I love the place, but they don’t play around. They’ll throw you in Mickey-jail without batting an eye. Scarier than Oz.

Could I possibly make that up? Of course it’s her condo. When I was little, they wouldn’t let us jump in the pool, but I never held a grudge. (They’ll pay one day, though.)

Point of view is always tricky. Get too cute and you risk losing your reader. In fact, when I wrote the first draft of the book, I had each chapter alternating between Oliver’s and Charlie’s POV—but it quickly got so confusing that I switched to just one. It was the hardest decision I made with The Millionaires, but I still think the right one.

Great. When I needed to know what restaurant was on a particular corner, I just called my Dad. He majors in restaurants.