Justin looked again through the print copy of the latest script again, checking it against his latest edit on the screen in front of him, from just a week ago. Hollywood moves fast. Hollywood will mess with your vision, that’s what the voice in the back of his head had always said. But he’d been seduced by the glamour of it, the possibility of being even more famous, of making more money and impressing his husband.
He’d been lucky to even be offered the chance to turn his novel Urban Soul into a screenplay in the first place. Usually when the rights were sold it went straight to a team of scriptwriters and the original author didn’t get a look in. He’d pressured his agent, of course, told them he’d be more inclined to allow them to have the rights in the first place if he would be given the screenplay to do.
He chewed hard on his lip and glanced at the time, it wasn’t too late just yet, his husband Wesley wouldn’t be sleepy for a while and that meant he had a bit more time to brood over the words on the page. He reached a hand up to rub his tired eyes and sighed loudly. His stomach was churning from the anger he was trying to control and his cat Fitz looked up from where he was snoozing beside the laptop. Justin spared him a glance and Fitz picked himself up, walked delicately and deliberately over the keyboard of Justin’s computer and up his arm, claws barely out for traction before he settled over Justin’s shoulders, like a belligerent scarf.
Justin set the script down finally and reached up to absently scratch at Fitz’s head, used to the cat settling on him like this when he was working. He swallowed, trying to work out if there was any point in calling his agent, or the producer, or the director to complain, but his contract - also open on the desk in front of him - made it clear that he didn’t have the sole right to the script and the director had the final say on everything.
Sighing, he shut his computer down, causing Fitz to dig his claws into his shoulders as he shifted his balance. “Ow, Fitz,” he said under his breath out of habit more than anything else since he knew it wouldn’t actually change his behaviour. He closed the script and got up from the desk. Maybe his husband could calm him down with soothing words or with extremely energetic and rough sex. One way or another, he was done being alone for now.
I guess- .. things like this happen.. you can’t… let it make you feel too bad.. because you’re incredible… and as long as it’s mostly still your writing, it’s okay… maybe?
Yes, or maybe it will be terrible and everyone will say it was such a shame because the book was so good, like people say about every movie of a book…
Oh… uhh… damn.. if it’s for that reason that I’m thinking, bitchslapping wouldn’t go over too well.
It’s Hollywood, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. It’ll be fine. Maybe it will be a better movie their way.
…Do they want me to come down and bitchslap them?
Now that you mention it, they did say something about wanting you to come down. I don’t think they mentioned bitchslapping though.
Did they at least tell you why?
Just that the producers hired a script doctor and they are happy with the new direction.
Hmm.. like what? Maybe they just wanted to make some of the dialogue more movie-savvy?
More than that, there’s some characters switched around in some scenes and they cut out some of the jokes.
Yeah… they made some changes to the script which I don’t really understand…
Instead of you?
I’ll squeeze in underneath so you can be sandwiched.