Jill Robinson was born in Los Angeles. She is well-known for her talks on Hollywood Myths and Legends; stories about her childhood in Hollywood, life at her father’s studio, and LA during the black-listing years. Her father was Oscar and Tony winner, Dore Schary, head of MGM during the 50s and the only writer to ever run a film studio. Her mother, the artist, M. Svet, studied at the Art Students League in New York.
Robinson’s first book With A Cast of Thousands, was about growing up in Hollywood. After she moved to New York, she wrote for Cosmopolitan Magazine, during the template Helen Gurley Brown years. Robinson also covered trials for the The Soho Weekly News. In 1974, her memoir Bed/Time/Story won a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts. The novel Perdido established Robinson as a serious American writer. Vanity Fair described Past Forgetting as “the astounding chronicle of her journey to recover her memory.” This experience encouraged her to start the Wimpole Street Writers’ Workshop, which attracts some of the most original young writers in London.
Robinson has reviewed books and written articles for The New York Times, The Los Angeles Times, The Chicago Tribune, The Washington Post, and American and French Vogue. Recently, she wrote a series of columns on being an American in London for the Daily Telegraph Saturday Magazine. Her Vanity Fair story on Roman Polanski was included in George Plimpton’s book, The Best American Movie Writing for 1998.
Robinson has taught Master Classes for the National Foundation for the Advancement of the Arts and has lectured on writing around America and Britain. She toured with her husband, the English writer Stuart Shaw, reading their play Falling in Love When You Thought You Were Through (adapted from their book).
BOOKS
Falling in Love When You Thought You Were Through, a memoir written with Stuart Shaw (HarperCollins, 2002)
Past Forgetting, a memoir (HarperCollins, 1999)
Star Country, a novel (Fawcett Columbine, 1996)
Follow Me Through Paris, illustrations by Robinson (Lublin Graphics, 1983)
Dr. Rocksinger and the Age of Longing (Knopf, 1982)
Perdido (Random House, 1978)
Bed/Time/Story (Random House, 1974)
Thanks for the Rubies, Now Please Pass the Moon (The Dial Press, 1972)
With a Cast of Thousands (Stein and Day, 1963)
IN COLLECTIONS
Polanski’s Inferno in The Best American Movie Writing 1998
Edited by George Plimpton (St. Martin’s Griffin, 1998)
Stardust in Thoughts of Home: Reflections on Families, Houses & Homelands
Edited by Elaine Greene (Hearst Books, 1995)
Hers – Through Women’s Eyes. Essays and columns for the New York Times
(Villard Books, 1985)
Fantasia in American Dreams: Lost & Found
Edited by Studs Terkel (Pantheon Books, 1980)
ARTICLES
The New York Times
The New Tatterdemalions
Pioneers Abroad
The Boss Never Pours
Friends, Lovers, Children: Of Getting and Giving Books
Hers columns (1978-1981) Vanity Fair Cover story on Roman Polanski (1998) People Magazine
Cover story on Barbra Streisand’s wedding (1998)
Harper & Queens
Cover story on Princess Grace. The Telegraph Saturday Magazine
Eight columns (1997) French Vogue
Profile on Liz Hurley American Vogue
Movie Star Express (The Orient Express goes to Venice)
Women & Success: Now you’ve got it, how do you live it?
Imagine this: It's your birthday. The doorbell rings: No one is there. But a book is there wrapped with ribbon silvery as London's Thames River at teatime in April. Alexander McQueen might well have tied the bouffant bow.
Kathleen Tessaro's new novel, The Perfume Collector (Harper), is a mystery,...
If you're thinking people are crazy, minds jammed up as the 405 going nowhere but backwards, where are the miracles? What's happened to good news? Then you'll want to see Yesterdays a jazz musical at the Promenade Theatre in Santa Monica. It's only running until May 5.
The essence of theatre is wonder. The Actor's Gang understands this. And so does Brian T. Finney, the actor who performs his own stunning one-man adaptation of the Heart of Darkness, at the Ivy Substation Theatre in Culver City. This classic novel has been tailored to fit our sleek time....
Last night I watched a Law and Order marathon. I learned a lot more about Elliot and Olivia. Elliot's mom was bipolar. This explained his perceptions, his conflicts. I needed to write new pages. Couldn't think what to write. Crossed this out. Tore that up. Bad Example for the writers...
"Want a light?" used to be the start up line with a stranger who had a look you liked. In a waiting room; in the seat next to you somewhere. Or standing in a line. Lines are longer now.
"Just write three pages. Every week..." Writers, who find that difficult, if not horrifying, are often the most talented, garrotted by dreams we fear will never come true. We've sat here, tapping out words for ages, like months, written up this whole story, covered all those pages.
The Last Book Store writers group decided a Sunday ago (or so) that instead of bringing three pages of our books or poetry to read, we would all write on one subject. I run the group because I wear a bow tie, but have no total command. So LaVerta suggested...
Just as I've been brooding about theatre and what it does that film cannot, I went to see Lincoln for the second time. There is no more vigorous movie about where we are right now. Yes, Lincoln is about the Civil War, but it is equally about the war between...
When I swim I don't count laps. I was never good at arithmetic (never got to the level where they call it math). I mean, watch me try to add a tip. "Carry the two? Then take away..." What? So, swimming. That's where we are. I am excited for...
After the Newtown shooting even our favorite commentators agreed there was nothing to say. Yes words do fail. Action strikes us dumb.
I tell new writers. "When you're grief stricken, shocked all words have fled, just pick up an object at hand, something manageable you haven't noticed -- describe...
I've been quite tender about the Equinox swimming pool, even rather complimentary.
It plays a nice supporting role in my new book, almost Oscar qualified -- it did, the pool, transform my life. After my Englishman left this planet, my body decided to give up walking. Lie down. Die.
I am smiling at this small oval sticker. In the center, two red stripes, and at one end of the egg shape, there are three white stars set in dark blue. In the center white stripe there are two words: I Voted. Around the oval is a garland of these...
In 1941 I was 5 years old. I was standing in front of the RCA Victor radio in the living room. The wooden radio was the size of a manageable bear, with a fan-shaped face lit up like "Glad to See You!" when it was on. There were several knobs...
Laurie Lipton told me this yesterday. I first I saw Laurie at a London dinner party. She was lean, elfin; her narrow blue eyes cased people, sized them up the way my family did.
"You're from New York." I moved in fast. "Fantastic!"
This guy talks first. He's got the build of an armchair a few generations of guys have sat in to watch football. He's talking about Mother's Day, taking flowers to the grave and then all the kids and their mate's and the grandkids went back to the house to eat...
I am old enough to have the clarity of perspective, which shows me the worst thing about the New Age is a lot of Solitude. But then, in Medieval Times, young people went to convents or monasteries for silence. To sleep in cells. And all cultures have retreats, or, times...
(0) Comments | Posted May 9, 2013 | 1:31 PM