Auteur : Martine

Thank god that crazy weekend of work and deadlines is over. I’m dead.

And thank god for paella and red wine.

You like paella too? Check out the paella tag on Flickr. There’s amazing stuff in there. This, por exemplo, has to be the mother of all paellas.

I just wrote the words THE END.
(Actually, I didn’t really write them, because the screenplay is in French.)

This is a great moment in the life of a screenwriter, a little bit like the magic hour when the sun has just set and it’s pure blue perfection for a few minutes. I feel good about the piece and right now, everything seems possible. I’ve got a producer who is so excited about the project (after reading a few pages) that she’s been begging me to send her more (and I’ve resisted because it’s often not a very good idea). There’s a talented and successful director who is going to read the screenplay very soon. There’s also a famous guy (who also happens to be really gorgeous) who has desires to venture into acting and who wants to see the script. He’s considering a small role, which would help us sell the project.

This is a good time, when the light is blue and beautiful and you feel hopeful. When the refusals haven’t come in yet. When the delays and the numerous changes to make haven’t showed their ugly heads. When you haven’t really had a chance to doubt your work. For a few hours, you are allowed to believe that things might work easily this time and that the damn screenplay might have a chance to take the smooth road to the screen.

It’s a feeling that doesn’t last very long. I’m going to go take advantage of it. See you later.

There are two kinds of people: those who throw things away and those who gather stuff. It’s been no secret at ni.vu.ni.connu that my beau is a gatherer (remember the t-shirt episode?). What’s worse, he’s the romantic gatherer type.

We’re at the restaurant one night this week and we’re waiting for the bill. His small wallet is sitting on the table. It has a plastic window showing his bling (fancy transit pass) so I pull it out to look at it.

A small piece of sea shell falls out of the wallet.

-« What’s that? »
-« Some piece of shell from the beach, I think. I just thought the colours were beautiful. »

I look at the small, triangular shell. I realize it’s a piece of a mussel.

-« Baby, this is a mussel shell. You didn’t get this from the beach. »
-« I didn’t? »
-« No, you got it out of my seafood soup at the fast-food noodle joint last Friday. »
-« Oh. That’s right. »

I look at him with my « you silly » air.

-« But isn’t it beautiful? Look at all the colours! »