I was disappointed. There were times when I didn’t think we could ever be friends. We just couldn’t figure out how to get along.
Time went on, and the three of us—me, Mitchell, and Emily—were stuck together. So we stuck together. And over time we found ways to genuinely bond. There was a narrow wooden catwalk up above the set. We called it the “C.A.D.” room. (C.A.D. = inside joke) Getting up to the C.A.D. room was precarious. It was several stories high! You had to hang on to a bar or you’d fall down to certain death. The producers must have been glad to have us out of their hair. They didn’t care where we went: “We don’t see anything. We don’t know anything. This isn’t on us,” was their attitude.
We’d sneak up there for lunch, and for an hour it felt like we were hiding out in a treehouse, high above our jobs and homework and parents. We were all in the same situation—we had a great opportunity. It meant working like grown-ups, but it wasn’t always easy to behave like grown-ups. Witness my spats with Emily. But up in the C.A.D. room we got to be normal, mischievous kids for a change. The pressure was off, and there were even hints of fondness between Emily and me. Our characters got along so well. Why couldn’t we act the same in real life? For all our troubles, deep down I think know we loved each other, even then. But we had a long way to go before we’d really be friends.
Daddy’s Little Buddy
M eanwhile, Dad and I were working really well together. Every teenager and father have some of the same problems. You want a new phone, but your dad doesn’t want to give you the money to buy it. Your dad won’t let you go to a movie because you need to stay home and study. You get jealous when your dad starts writing songs with the Jonas Brothers. (Okay, maybe that last one isn’t exactly universal.)
The Hannah Montana writers were coming up with stories about stuff that made sense in my relationship with my dad because they were normal teenager/parent struggles. But as they watched us, they picked up on our dynamic and used that to make the characters even more like us. Like Dad calling me “Bud” on the show. He always calls me “Little Buddy” and “Bud” in real life. And some of that real Southern stuff comes straight from my dad’s mouth, like “Dang flabbit.” That is so Dad.
They also found ways to use some of my dad’s songs in the show. “Ready, Set, Don’t Go” is a song that Dad wrote when I first got the Hannah part. He hadn’t been cast yet. The family had packed up and was heading to Los Angeles. He watched us drive away and felt happy to see my dreams coming true and sad at the idea of me going so far away—and growing up. What Dad doesn’t have that bittersweet moment?
A year later, we would make an episode around that song. It was the highest rated of all the episodes that had aired so far, and “Ready, Set, Don’t Go” became a hit song for us both. Of course, Dad wasn’t thinking about any of that when he wrote the song. He was living his life, and he processes his emotions through music, just like me.
As time went on our lives overlapped more and more with our characters and vice versa. And that was fine by me.
On with the Show
I sort of expected to be nervous at my new job, but taping the show wasn’t nearly as terrifying as auditioning had been. On set nobody was judging me. I wasn’t standing in front of a group of people who would determine my future. Best of all, it wasn’t live. If something didn’t work, we could try again. There was always more tape. Sure, it still made me anxious sometimes. But this was where I wanted to be. I was working with a team, trying to make the best show we could.
From the beginning there were some surreal moments. For example, it was a little weird having people pick out boyfriends for me. I had nothing to do with the auditioning, so I’d just show up to work on Monday and
Time went on, and the three of us—me, Mitchell, and Emily—were stuck together. So we stuck together. And over time we found ways to genuinely bond. There was a narrow wooden catwalk up above the set. We called it the “C.A.D.” room. (C.A.D. = inside joke) Getting up to the C.A.D. room was precarious. It was several stories high! You had to hang on to a bar or you’d fall down to certain death. The producers must have been glad to have us out of their hair. They didn’t care where we went: “We don’t see anything. We don’t know anything. This isn’t on us,” was their attitude.
We’d sneak up there for lunch, and for an hour it felt like we were hiding out in a treehouse, high above our jobs and homework and parents. We were all in the same situation—we had a great opportunity. It meant working like grown-ups, but it wasn’t always easy to behave like grown-ups. Witness my spats with Emily. But up in the C.A.D. room we got to be normal, mischievous kids for a change. The pressure was off, and there were even hints of fondness between Emily and me. Our characters got along so well. Why couldn’t we act the same in real life? For all our troubles, deep down I think know we loved each other, even then. But we had a long way to go before we’d really be friends.
Daddy’s Little Buddy
M eanwhile, Dad and I were working really well together. Every teenager and father have some of the same problems. You want a new phone, but your dad doesn’t want to give you the money to buy it. Your dad won’t let you go to a movie because you need to stay home and study. You get jealous when your dad starts writing songs with the Jonas Brothers. (Okay, maybe that last one isn’t exactly universal.)
The Hannah Montana writers were coming up with stories about stuff that made sense in my relationship with my dad because they were normal teenager/parent struggles. But as they watched us, they picked up on our dynamic and used that to make the characters even more like us. Like Dad calling me “Bud” on the show. He always calls me “Little Buddy” and “Bud” in real life. And some of that real Southern stuff comes straight from my dad’s mouth, like “Dang flabbit.” That is so Dad.
They also found ways to use some of my dad’s songs in the show. “Ready, Set, Don’t Go” is a song that Dad wrote when I first got the Hannah part. He hadn’t been cast yet. The family had packed up and was heading to Los Angeles. He watched us drive away and felt happy to see my dreams coming true and sad at the idea of me going so far away—and growing up. What Dad doesn’t have that bittersweet moment?
A year later, we would make an episode around that song. It was the highest rated of all the episodes that had aired so far, and “Ready, Set, Don’t Go” became a hit song for us both. Of course, Dad wasn’t thinking about any of that when he wrote the song. He was living his life, and he processes his emotions through music, just like me.
As time went on our lives overlapped more and more with our characters and vice versa. And that was fine by me.
On with the Show
I sort of expected to be nervous at my new job, but taping the show wasn’t nearly as terrifying as auditioning had been. On set nobody was judging me. I wasn’t standing in front of a group of people who would determine my future. Best of all, it wasn’t live. If something didn’t work, we could try again. There was always more tape. Sure, it still made me anxious sometimes. But this was where I wanted to be. I was working with a team, trying to make the best show we could.
From the beginning there were some surreal moments. For example, it was a little weird having people pick out boyfriends for me. I had nothing to do with the auditioning, so I’d just show up to work on Monday and
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