his
eyebrow. Oh yeah. He'd be perfect. "Great. Get him on the phone.
See if he's free at four."
*****
Randy's interview went
well and shortly thereafter, work on Finding Sarah began in earnest. I've
tried to stay at least three scenes ahead of them, and I'm
impressed with the way both have adapted to some of the rewrites,
especially when I had to create and cast a new character—a
sister-in-law for Sarah. Diana was no problem and accepted her
brief appearance without complaint. I think she enjoyed the scene
where she got to flirt brazenly with Randy. I know he tolerated it
like a trouper.
But every now and then, a character manages
to surprise an author. I thought I had Randy pegged, until he
requested an appointment with me.
Two
"Come in, Randy," I say. We'd been working
together for a couple of months now but I still can't get used to
how tall he is. I've written him as six-six, but I have a hunch
he's even taller. However, he's comfortable with his height and
walks with an easy grace across my office, glancing around before
settling himself on the couch.
I remember his awkwardness at our initial
interview. Like he was afraid it was a stereotypical casting couch
and he might have to "buy" his way into the job, or I was going to
make him demonstrate that he could handle the sex scenes.
"What can I do for you?" I ask.
His lips curve up in a shy smile and he
shoves a lock of hair off his forehead. "I…um…I had a suggestion.
For my character."
I give him my full attention now. He's never
demanded—heck, he's never even suggested—anything. Maybe he's
nervous. The first scene on today's schedule is the first real sex
scene with Sarah. It's not like he's naïve or anything, but I know
how characters can get self-conscious when they're actually asked
to perform on cue. At least he's not one of the cocky ones, no pun
intended, who thinks he can take over the scene.
"Well, I was looking at the pages. You know
how, afterward, we're hanging on the couch eating pizza. I'm
watching a basketball game and Sarah's just sitting there trying
not to be bored. I thought maybe you'd let me play piano for
her."
I feel my jaw drop. I search my memory for
his initial interview. "Piano? You play the piano?"
He ducks his head and nods. "Yeah. I haven't
played in awhile—long story, old memories. But after working with
Sarah on this book thing, well…she's made me a lot more comfortable
with my past and I'd like to get back into it. I thought it might
work for the plot."
"You can really play the piano?" I ask,
sounding too much like a babbling idiot instead of a writer in
control of the manuscript.
"Yes. Would you like to hear?" he asks. "I'd
be happy to play something for you—an audition, if you want."
"No, that won't be necessary. I believe you.
What's your preference?"
He shrugs. "Doesn't matter. I play it all.
Classical, rock, jazz. I worked my way through college playing in
lounges."
Okay, so now I'm scribbling notes like mad.
"You can do Simon and Garfunkel?"
He grins. "Piece of cake."
"What about something melancholy? One of
those melodies that make the world stop?"
"I think I can handle
that. Beethoven's " Pathetique" should work."
I stand and walk around the desk. He remains
seated, not because he's rude but because he knows our eyes will be
level. I shake his hand. "Take a couple of hours off while I
rewrite. See you at three."
"Will do. I'll go home and practice." He
stands, towering above me. I study his hands and now understand why
I described them the way I did on page twenty-six.
I watch him leave,
wondering if he'll like the scene coalescing in my head. It'll mean
a bit of a rewrite. Will he be able to handle an on-the-page
emotional breakdown, or will I have to write it in Sarah's point of
view? I turn back to my computer and open a new document. I hear
him whistling " Bridge over Troubled
Water" as he walks away.
*****
And, as a bonus, I had the
chance to eavesdrop on my characters
eyebrow. Oh yeah. He'd be perfect. "Great. Get him on the phone.
See if he's free at four."
*****
Randy's interview went
well and shortly thereafter, work on Finding Sarah began in earnest. I've
tried to stay at least three scenes ahead of them, and I'm
impressed with the way both have adapted to some of the rewrites,
especially when I had to create and cast a new character—a
sister-in-law for Sarah. Diana was no problem and accepted her
brief appearance without complaint. I think she enjoyed the scene
where she got to flirt brazenly with Randy. I know he tolerated it
like a trouper.
But every now and then, a character manages
to surprise an author. I thought I had Randy pegged, until he
requested an appointment with me.
Two
"Come in, Randy," I say. We'd been working
together for a couple of months now but I still can't get used to
how tall he is. I've written him as six-six, but I have a hunch
he's even taller. However, he's comfortable with his height and
walks with an easy grace across my office, glancing around before
settling himself on the couch.
I remember his awkwardness at our initial
interview. Like he was afraid it was a stereotypical casting couch
and he might have to "buy" his way into the job, or I was going to
make him demonstrate that he could handle the sex scenes.
"What can I do for you?" I ask.
His lips curve up in a shy smile and he
shoves a lock of hair off his forehead. "I…um…I had a suggestion.
For my character."
I give him my full attention now. He's never
demanded—heck, he's never even suggested—anything. Maybe he's
nervous. The first scene on today's schedule is the first real sex
scene with Sarah. It's not like he's naïve or anything, but I know
how characters can get self-conscious when they're actually asked
to perform on cue. At least he's not one of the cocky ones, no pun
intended, who thinks he can take over the scene.
"Well, I was looking at the pages. You know
how, afterward, we're hanging on the couch eating pizza. I'm
watching a basketball game and Sarah's just sitting there trying
not to be bored. I thought maybe you'd let me play piano for
her."
I feel my jaw drop. I search my memory for
his initial interview. "Piano? You play the piano?"
He ducks his head and nods. "Yeah. I haven't
played in awhile—long story, old memories. But after working with
Sarah on this book thing, well…she's made me a lot more comfortable
with my past and I'd like to get back into it. I thought it might
work for the plot."
"You can really play the piano?" I ask,
sounding too much like a babbling idiot instead of a writer in
control of the manuscript.
"Yes. Would you like to hear?" he asks. "I'd
be happy to play something for you—an audition, if you want."
"No, that won't be necessary. I believe you.
What's your preference?"
He shrugs. "Doesn't matter. I play it all.
Classical, rock, jazz. I worked my way through college playing in
lounges."
Okay, so now I'm scribbling notes like mad.
"You can do Simon and Garfunkel?"
He grins. "Piece of cake."
"What about something melancholy? One of
those melodies that make the world stop?"
"I think I can handle
that. Beethoven's " Pathetique" should work."
I stand and walk around the desk. He remains
seated, not because he's rude but because he knows our eyes will be
level. I shake his hand. "Take a couple of hours off while I
rewrite. See you at three."
"Will do. I'll go home and practice." He
stands, towering above me. I study his hands and now understand why
I described them the way I did on page twenty-six.
I watch him leave,
wondering if he'll like the scene coalescing in my head. It'll mean
a bit of a rewrite. Will he be able to handle an on-the-page
emotional breakdown, or will I have to write it in Sarah's point of
view? I turn back to my computer and open a new document. I hear
him whistling " Bridge over Troubled
Water" as he walks away.
*****
And, as a bonus, I had the
chance to eavesdrop on my characters
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