The Road to Reality
Page 1
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The Road to Reality
Dianne Burnett
Foreword by Richard Hatch
Afterword by Michael Bernard Beckwith
Executive in Charge of Publication: Stephen Powers
Editor: Melissa Rossi
Copy Editor: Jill Kramer
Design: Jonathan Friedman | Frame25 Productions
Map Illustration: Araya Peralta
Front Cover Design: Jordan Duvall
Author Photo: Dana Fineman
Family Photos: Dianne Burnett, family, and friends
Cover photo courtesy of Getty Images
Printed in USA on recycled paper
© 2012 by Dianne Burnett
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any mechanical, photographic, or electronic process, or in the form of a phonographic recording; nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted, or otherwise be copied for public or private use–other than “fair use” as brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews–without prior written permission of the publisher.
The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems, without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.
Author’s Note: I have re-created events, locales, and conversations to the best of my ability. In order to maintain individuals’ anonymity, in some instances I have changed their names.
To my beautiful sons—James and Cameron—
and my loving mother, Joan,
who continues to illuminate my path
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Foreword by Richard Hatch
Preface: A Higher Road
Chapter 1: Desert Rose
Chapter 2: Island Girl
Chapter 3: Growing Pains
Chapter 4: An Englishman in New York
Chapter 5: She’s Got a Ticket to Ride
Chapter 6: Almost Paradise
Chapter 7: Sweet Baby James
Chapter 8: Lights, Cameron, Action
Chapter 9: Kingmaker
Chapter 10: The Tribe Has Spoken
Chapter 11: Heard It Through the Grapevine
Chapter 12: Rewriting the Script
Epilogue: Finding My Way
Afterword by Michael Bernard Beckwith
About the Author
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The creation of The Road to Reality, my first book, was in itself a learning experience that helped me become the person I am today. When I began writing it, my life was in a holding pattern: like Chevy Chase in Vacation, I felt stuck in a never-ending roundabout, unable to find my way out. Writing this book proved to be the ideal exit—putting me on the road that led to higher ground.
A number of extraordinary and talented people were involved in paving the way. Melissa Rossi helped me map out the course of this book process and brought the details and the humor to life. Stephen Powers, President at Agape Media International, had the vision for the big picture and gave me a green light; he has been a delight to work with. I’m thrilled that Michael Bernard Beckwith kindly shared his light and insights in the afterword. My old pal from Survivor, Richard Hatch, (who, unlike me, withstood getting voted off the island) “cuts the ribbon” with his foreword. Agent Bill Gladstone saw my journey as an inspiration to others. Jordan Duvall, who created the cover, captured exactly the image I was seeking—of a woman embarking on a new journey. Graphic artist Araya Peralta drew the lovely map. Brian Solon helped me lay the foundation, organizing the information derived from interviews. Jill Kramer guided me through the editorial maze. Kelly Carter, a writer for People magazine whom I met on the boat to Pulau Tiga Island during the taping of the very first Survivor, has helped to keep me on course, proving to be a true friend who never wavered. Anthony William, my real life spirit guide, amazes and inspires me with his wisdom; every day he helps me see my path more clearly.
My siblings Steve, Vicki, and Lisa—my kindred spirits since birth—helped me recall fond moments from childhood; my half-brother Domenico kept me laughing, as he has since the days we shared a bedroom with Superman sheets on the beds. My father Dominick taught me that you have to roll up your sleeves and work for what you want in life. My mother was my rock: When I couldn’t find my way, she was my beacon of light, my best friend, my biggest fan, and most enthusiastic supporter, who I sadly lost along the journey. Not a minute goes by that she is not in my thoughts. My sons, James and Cameron, are my greatest accomplishments: my angels and my pillars of strength, they brighten every day letting me see life through their beautiful eyes.
And, of course, my road to reality would never have been the same without Mark Burnett, my ex-husband and the father of our children, who whisked the girl out of Long Island, and showed her the world, transforming life into a non-stop adventure; I’m grateful for that unforgettable part of my journey that he shared. And I’ll always be happy that my road to reality opened new doors, among them two projects that are now the focus of my life: Joan Valentine—A Foundation for Natural Cures, which explores alternative therapies to treat and prevent cancer, as well as theotherside.com, my new multimedia platform that is a gateway for transformation of mind, body, and spirit.
Finally, to all the women I’ve known, read about, watched, and shared experiences with over the years whose experiences have touched my life, I thank them all for what I’ve learned and for making me realize that we all need to “just be.”
FOREWORD
Twelve years ago, on a balmy isle in the South China Sea that was thick with rats, poisonous snakes, and aggressive monkeys, I waded ashore from my latest attempt at spearfishing to see a lovely blonde—with a toddler in her arms and a seven-year-old in tow—making her way through the jungle.
“I’m Dianne Burnett,” she said, flashing a bright smile. “You’re hilarious!”
I was impressed that the wife of executive producer Mark Burnett would fly to this primitive and hostile locale, Pulau Tiga, with two little kids—and without a nanny—to be on location for the shooting of a new TV series called Survivor. Unbeknownst to us, Survivor would quickly become the number 1 reality show in the U.S., and one of the most popular programs in television history. It wasn’t the last time I’d be struck by Dianne’s mettle. At that moment back in March 2000, we sixteen castaways—divided into two teams, Tagi and Pagong—were on Day Six of the real life Gilligan’s Island, where finding food and water, making fire, and constructing shelter were requisite skills. I would go on to eat gross squirming larvae in contests, frighten off four-footed invaders, and bare-handedly wrestle with sharks while partaking in the reality show that pitted human against nature, and human against human, in a bear of a contest to win $1 million. I’d planned my initial strategy before showing up—realizing that winning would
require forming powerful alliances to control the game and avoid being “voted off the island” in tribal councils.
Those thirty-nine days I spent battling the elements, fellow castaways, and even, at moments, more powerful foes, underscored that self-understanding, knowing one’s goals, gutsy determination, and the ability to change gears were all necessary to survive—and to win, which I ultimately did. Those same qualities are trademarks of the whirlwind that is Dianne Burnett, and they shine through in this book.
Through vivid writing and colorful scenes—from camel races in Morocco to harrowing climbs in the Andes—readers will discover how Dianne had a hand in launching Survivor, even coining the name of the show that would take the country by storm; they will also discover how she survived being voted off the island she’d helped to establish. I expect that they will strongly connect with Dianne as they follow her rise from being the star of neighborhood talent shows in Long Island to producer in Malibu—her vulnerabilities, fears, missteps, and ferocious protectiveness of her children evident each step of the way. The good life didn’t come to Dianne on a silver platter: she worked to achieve it, and she worked to continue it even after her husband of fourteen years abruptly left.
Reading The Road to Reality was more of an emotional journey than I’d anticipated—pulling me through the ups and downs of an unusual life that’s marked by feistiness, adventure, and the ability to pursue elusive goals. Mapping out the unconventional path Dianne took to get into show biz, it also offers juicy behind-the-scenes glimpses into the world of entertainment, taking readers backstage at tapings in exotic locales and ritzy award ceremonies. Given the years she was married to Mark Burnett—now known as the King of Reality TV—Dianne devotes an entertaining chunk of the book to their marriage, both during its happiest times and when it slipped out of her hands.
As I read through these pages, I realized that Dianne’s journey paralleled another lesson that I’d learned through Survivor and its aftermath. While we often define our identities by our unions—marriages, business partnerships, strategic alliances—at the end of the day, we’re really alone, and we alone are responsible for the courses we take. As individuals, we’re the ones who control where our lives take us, how we maneuver the rocks, how we celebrate, how we work, what we learn, and what we take away. I cherish this knowledge, which helps me to prioritize and focus on maintaining meaningful connections rather than wasting time with superficialities. A riveting memoir, The Road to Reality is embedded with tips on winning, surviving, and enjoying the fruits of one’s own choices. It left me with only one question: When will we be able to read The Road to Reality, Part II?
Richard Hatch
Winner, Survivor: Borneo
Preface
A HIGHER ROAD
Every so often, you meet a person who almost magically alters the course of your life. A person who pulls back the curtain—and shows you a whole new world that you’d only imagined might exist. Somebody with whom you happily link arms, forming a team that knows no bounds. For me, that person was a handsome Englishman named Mark Burnett.
The man who became the most influential person in my life is a talented and hard-working entrepreneur who has a sixth sense about what’s just around the bend. For the thirteen years that we were together, anything and everything seemed possible—and we worked hand-in-hand to launch Eco-Challenge, which became the premier epic-adventure event in the world. From there, we gave birth to a show that would change television history, Survivor. Mark sold it to CBS in 2000; with my husband in the executive producer’s seat, and with me at his side, the series became one of the most-watched programs in the U.S.
With all due respect to Mark, I was often the Horatio to his Alger in our rags-to-riches story. I was the behind-the-scenes kingmaker, and the muse who delivered his “signs,” as well as his personal cheerleader.
The fame and success that we’d dreamed of together was thrilling when it arrived—but it dramatically rearranged our world overnight: before I knew what was happening, our marriage fell apart. At first, I was devastated; looking back on it, I view that parting of ways as a lesson in self-empowerment. When I was cast off of Mark’s island, I took back my own power and recast myself in a new role: producer—in all senses of the word, including being someone who tries to produce a positive effect on the world.
I hope that people who find themselves in similar situations—who are asked to rebuild their lives and forge new paths—will find inspiration in this story. At the end of the day, I’ve realized there are no mistakes: everything—even bumps in the road—provides a lesson that’s necessary for us to evolve, and to get wherever it is we need to be. But the meaning in human life, it seems to me, isn’t always obvious when we’re trying to get somewhere; the meaning can only be seen when we celebrate where we’ve been. And that’s what this book is about.
Dianne Burnett
May 5, 2012
Chapter One
DESERT ROSE
The real voyage of discovery consists not
in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.
—Marcel Proust
“MOROCCO’S ON?” I ASKED my husband, Mark, as he snapped shut his phone. I glanced at five-year-old James zooming his Matchbox car around the kitchen floor, then at little blond Cameron perched on my hip, then at our three-story ocean-view Malibu “country home” with its gleaming high-tech amenities and lush backyard thick with flowers.
Morocco?
“It’s a go!” Boyish-looking to begin with, my husband, then in his late 30s, looked like a little kid when he grinned. His eyes, the color of coffee with cream, had that Photoshop twinkle—naturally.
“So we’re moving to Morocco?” I asked, putting Cameron in his high chair, then peeking in the oven as the escaping aromas of the bubbling eggplant parmesan and the toasting garlic bread filled the kitchen. I cracked some eggs, and tossed the yolks, anchovies, mustard, garlic, and olive oil in the Cuisinart for the Caesar dressing. Africa? We were going to live in Africa?
“Marrakesh, to be precise,” Mark replied in that English accent that still had an aphrodisiacal effect on me. “Three months of living amidst the Berbers! Di, you won’t believe their villages rising up from the desert! Amazing! Elaborately carved, look like they’re made out of sand! Spectacular backdrop.”
He answered his ringing phone. “Mark Burnett …”
We’d been talking about Morocco for months, but the reality of living in that exotic land was only then hitting me. Northern Africa? In the summer? Images of pushing a stroller across the desert in a sandstorm blasted across the movie screen in my mind.
“Just sealed the deal,” he said into the phone, pouring a glass of Cabernet with his free hand and winking at me. “Discovery Channel is sponsoring …”
He clicked off. “Sorry, Di. Where were we?”
“The Berbers, I believe.” The year before, I’d driven a Land Cruiser—alone except for my two kids—across the rugged terrain of Northern Australia—emus and kangaroos darting around everywhere. That was plenty adventurous for me. Saharan Africa, however, was an entirely different story.
“Di, they’re amongst the last remaining nomads!” he said, following me into the dining room while I set the long wood table. I’m Italian-American—to me, eating is the ritual that brings the family together. “The Berbers,” he continued, “pile everything on the family camel and cross the daunting Atlas Mountains twice a year.” He picked up an olive. “Do you realize how hard it is to be a nomad in this era?”
“Mommy, what are nomads?” asked James, looking up with his huge brown eyes as I lit the candles.
“People like us, honey. Except they don’t have a house in Malibu. And they don’t have cars.”
“James, they ride camels!” Mark said.
Mark’s phone rang again. “You heard right. Eco-Challenge number five unfolds in the Sahara. Camel races across the broiling desert sands are just the beginning …”
I envisioned
us camped out in a tent on the broiling desert sands, camels racing by.
Mark clicked off, caught my wary expression, and laughed. “Don’t worry, Di! I’ll scout out a cozy place before you guys arrive.”
I mentally compiled the essential supplies: Echinacea, acidophilus, tea tree oil, Band-aids, brewer’s yeast, antibacterial wipes, vitamin C, zinc, assorted homeopathic tinctures … for starters. Oh geez, forget cotton diapers for Cameron—I’d have to bring three months’ worth of eco-friendly disposable diapers instead. Toys. Clothes for the blazing hot days and for the chilly nights in the desert. Nursing supplies. Oh no, not the breast pump. Okay, then, the breast pump. Dress-up clothes and dress-down clothes. Shoes. Makeup. Skin care. Electrical converters. Laptops. Light summer reading. I was going to need a caravan just to get there!
“So, Di, the plan is—”
“Mark, am I going to have to wear a burka?” I interrupted. Blondes may have more fun, but we stick out everywhere except Scandinavia and L.A.
James looked up. “Are we gonna ride camels?”
“You bet!” Mark said to James. His phone rang again. “Mark Burnett …”
James turned to me. “Are we gonna live in a tent again?”
I shrugged. “Daddy promises it will be a pretty one.”
“Will there be a bathroom in this one?”
“I sure hope so.”
“With a swimming pool this time?”
“We’ll see …”
Back then—1998, to be precise—if Mark had floated into the kitchen in a spacesuit announcing we were moving to Mars in an hour, I would have started packing. That’s how madly in love I was with my husband of six years, and how much I believed in our projects that invariably blasted off with him at the controls. Morocco was just the latest chapter in our “adventure marriage”—that had turned into an “adventure family” with two kids. Mark and I jaunted everywhere from Monte Carlo to Cairo (where we’d climbed the Great Pyramids), and we usually packed up the boys, too—setting up in locales from the deserts of Utah to the forests of British Columbia.