coincidence. Except as I have told you, I am not much of a believer in coincidence. Coincidence or not, though, the romantic potential of the whole encounter seemed, well . . . unlimited.
Suddenly I saw him in a whole new light. I had already started to like him quite a bit. But now he practically glowed. I wondered what to say next. Because I did not want to say the wrong thing to this handsome, romantic, glowing man.
I decided not to let on that I had any idea who he was, or that I had anything to do with the movie. Although I had to control myself, because my first impulse was to tell him how much I loved his screenplay, and that I was going to find the perfect dress so Gerard Duclos could film the climactic party scene and make the movie.
The reason I did not tell Josh those things is quite simple: I was really starting to like him. And I sensed that he might feel the same way about me. Maybe it was fate, or karma—or magic, I thought, remembering Grandma’s dress. Whatever it was, it was a completely new feeling for me, and I wanted to make it last. So I figured, Let me save this for that very magical moment of the evening, when I would know the time was right. Then I’d say, “We have something very special in common.” And when I told him, he’d say, “That’s wonderful!” He would be so grateful I was helping his movie, he’d give me a big hug, maybe even a kiss, and of course I’d kiss him back, and after that . . . Well, just thinking about it made me tingly.
It was too early to tell him. It might be a nice moment, but not the moment. That’s why, when Josh told me he was a screenwriter, I just said, “Really?”
“Really. Although if you ask my mother, she’s hoping this is temporary. She says, ‘You’ll get it out of your system.’ Like it’s the flu. She says writers starve, and people in the movie business are bums.”
“Do writers starve?” Well excuse me, but I was curious. Because the clothes he was wearing were pretty nice. Expensive nice. John Varvatos, maybe. Nice shoes, too. Most guys don’t bother spending the money on nice shoes. Let me also say this: I would not date a man solely because he makes a lot of money. On the other hand, if he is already a man I wanted to date, the fact that he makes a lot of money certainly wouldn’t be a deal breaker.
“Starve? Not so far. You would not believe how much producers and movie studios will pay just to option a script.” I guess I looked blank, because he explained. “ ‘Optioning’ means they pay you just for the right to decide whether to make a movie. If they actually go ahead and make it, they pay you a whole lot more.”
“So you get paid for writing movies that nobody makes?”
“Ouch,” he said.
The last thing I wanted to do was be mean to this very special, creative, romantic man, who I was liking more every minute. But I guess maybe it came out that way.
Anyway, he said, “Yes. You can make a very good living writing movies that nobody makes. Only you don’t feel like you’re really a writer until you get your first movie made. At least, I don’t. And you wouldn’t believe the stupid reasons movies don’t get made.” He winced, and I got the feeling I had opened an old wound. “My last script came within three days of the start of principal photography. Three days. ”
“What happened?”
“The director read the script.”
“Hadn’t he already read it?”
Josh looked at me like I was from Mars. Or Venus. Anyway, some other planet. “Of course not.”
“So . . . when he read it, I guess he didn’t like it?”
“Are you kidding? He loved it. In fact, he told the studio it was so good, they had to dump the guy who was supposed to star, and give it to George Clooney.”
“So . . . I guess George Clooney didn’t like it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He cleared his schedule immediately. In fact, George thought it was so good, he told the studio to double the budget.”
“So . . . I guess the
Suddenly I saw him in a whole new light. I had already started to like him quite a bit. But now he practically glowed. I wondered what to say next. Because I did not want to say the wrong thing to this handsome, romantic, glowing man.
I decided not to let on that I had any idea who he was, or that I had anything to do with the movie. Although I had to control myself, because my first impulse was to tell him how much I loved his screenplay, and that I was going to find the perfect dress so Gerard Duclos could film the climactic party scene and make the movie.
The reason I did not tell Josh those things is quite simple: I was really starting to like him. And I sensed that he might feel the same way about me. Maybe it was fate, or karma—or magic, I thought, remembering Grandma’s dress. Whatever it was, it was a completely new feeling for me, and I wanted to make it last. So I figured, Let me save this for that very magical moment of the evening, when I would know the time was right. Then I’d say, “We have something very special in common.” And when I told him, he’d say, “That’s wonderful!” He would be so grateful I was helping his movie, he’d give me a big hug, maybe even a kiss, and of course I’d kiss him back, and after that . . . Well, just thinking about it made me tingly.
It was too early to tell him. It might be a nice moment, but not the moment. That’s why, when Josh told me he was a screenwriter, I just said, “Really?”
“Really. Although if you ask my mother, she’s hoping this is temporary. She says, ‘You’ll get it out of your system.’ Like it’s the flu. She says writers starve, and people in the movie business are bums.”
“Do writers starve?” Well excuse me, but I was curious. Because the clothes he was wearing were pretty nice. Expensive nice. John Varvatos, maybe. Nice shoes, too. Most guys don’t bother spending the money on nice shoes. Let me also say this: I would not date a man solely because he makes a lot of money. On the other hand, if he is already a man I wanted to date, the fact that he makes a lot of money certainly wouldn’t be a deal breaker.
“Starve? Not so far. You would not believe how much producers and movie studios will pay just to option a script.” I guess I looked blank, because he explained. “ ‘Optioning’ means they pay you just for the right to decide whether to make a movie. If they actually go ahead and make it, they pay you a whole lot more.”
“So you get paid for writing movies that nobody makes?”
“Ouch,” he said.
The last thing I wanted to do was be mean to this very special, creative, romantic man, who I was liking more every minute. But I guess maybe it came out that way.
Anyway, he said, “Yes. You can make a very good living writing movies that nobody makes. Only you don’t feel like you’re really a writer until you get your first movie made. At least, I don’t. And you wouldn’t believe the stupid reasons movies don’t get made.” He winced, and I got the feeling I had opened an old wound. “My last script came within three days of the start of principal photography. Three days. ”
“What happened?”
“The director read the script.”
“Hadn’t he already read it?”
Josh looked at me like I was from Mars. Or Venus. Anyway, some other planet. “Of course not.”
“So . . . when he read it, I guess he didn’t like it?”
“Are you kidding? He loved it. In fact, he told the studio it was so good, they had to dump the guy who was supposed to star, and give it to George Clooney.”
“So . . . I guess George Clooney didn’t like it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He cleared his schedule immediately. In fact, George thought it was so good, he told the studio to double the budget.”
“So . . . I guess the
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