Saturday, June 28, 2008
Hooray For Hollywood!
We're back outside the box again. Actually that's a bit too blase. Let me try and explain it better. I said to Natasha that when I was first invited to think outside the box I was nervous and excited at the same time. I'd gotten quite settled inside the box. Had it all done up nice and cozy. Even remembered to cut air holes in the lid just in the nick of time...
Then outside the box became an adventure. I wrote what I now lovingly refer to as the blind boy book. (Nothing if not irreverent me.) I LIKED IT outside the box. Heck I could barely see the box anymore.
During the book from hell I WANTED my box back. Thanks anyway. Where in heck was it? I knew I'd left it somewhere. But nope, couldn't find it...
For a while I completely lost the box. Now many people would say this is nothing new. If you've met me you'll know what they mean by that... So when pitching a new story to my very lovely editor I went for it. Threw caution to the wind. Closed my eyes and grimaced when pressing send on the email. And waited to be handed back the box. Possibly with a nice new ribbon. (cos they're genuinely lovely that way in the London offices. Ask anyone.)
I guess the the devil on my shoulder has decided to see just how far I can THROW the box. Hey - you don't know till you try, right? I mean, I've gained like a squillion (patent still pending on that word btw but I'm claiming it as MINE - remind me sometime and I'll explain why) pounds since I took up this writing full time thing so I don't need to eat. Ever again.
So I pitched a pair of screenwriters. And a movies/Hollywood backdrop. Oh, and a small child.
Then I waited to be hit over the head with the box.
Imagine my surprise.
Okay in fairness the small child would seem to have got lost somewhere in the ether of email-land but small children wander so it's her own fault. And I'm quite relieved truth be told. I always find it ironic when I - the one single gal writing for romance with NO children - end up with kids or pregnancies in a book. Still, just goes to prove I can write FICTION. And in fairness I do have a great deal of experience with O.P.Kids. The best kind. The ones you get to hand back when you've shaken them into a sugar fueled frenzy. I LOVE those kids. Their parents aren't always fond of me after the fact but there's a price to pay for every small pleasure in life, right?
Anyhoos. Not only do I get to keep my screenwriters. I get them in Hollywood and LA and Malibu avec stunning beach house. I even got invited to play with the red carpet if I could slot it in. And having had a moment or two when I came off the phone and blinked into the middle distance in surprise. I will admit I got quite excited. And then nervous. And then excited again. Then I had a small panic. And ate a cream cake in case the never being able to afford food again thing happened.
If I can't pull this off I think I may be NAILED inside the box. If I can? Well... I may hold a blog comments challenge to see what I CAN get away with while I'm out here. I can trust you guys not to ask me to pitch a billionaire seven foot three alien who owns his own galaxy far, far away, right???
So here we have my new hero and heroine. Meet Nessa Malone and Will Ryan, former screen-writing partners locked into a three movie deal they never thought they'd have to complete part three of. But what film two didn't make at the box office it made on the back end (see I'm learning the lingo already) and now they have to produce a script. Like yesterday. Just a shame they had a bad break up really. Oh yeah, and that their fictional counterparts are reflections of themselves...
Now I'm off back to sunny California with my working title of He Said, She Said. The outside the box book due before I get on a plane and go to...erm... sunny California... There's something in there about life imitating art or art imitating life or art imitating life imitating art. Possibly wishful thinking on the last one. If I do find myself a single script writer who looks like David Boreanaz and lives in a Malibu beach house while I'm in California I may never be heard from again. Just know I'll be happy.
Very very happy.
Posted by Trish Wylie