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“I met him. He passed on my script.”
“Film has no memory, Ivy. Remember that.”
That lunch went well. Ivy still had no idea what she was supposed to do next. But she wasn’t going to worry about it. She had spent the last five years worrying about her career (and her love life); she was going to enjoy this time. Except when they got back to the agency, after Ivy said goodbye and thank you to Charlotte, Ivy went to get her car and discovered it was dead on arrival. She turned the ignition, but nothing happened. She would have to get a new car.
The deal was made with Brilliant Pictures. Charlotte had found a very shrewd lawyer who got Ivy more money than she’d imagined. A $50,000 upfront option on the script. Writers Guild minimum plus ten percent for the rewrite. Against a $300,000 full purchase price, which would be paid on the first day of production, and $50,000 solo writing credit bonus. And if the movie didn’t suck, she would get residuals each time the movie aired.
Ivy was suddenly the one everyone wanted to meet. All the execs were now reading with prejudice as Charlotte said they would. They loved Ivy and wanted her to rewrite some of their scripts that were stuck in development hell. Most of them were very bad.
Later that night, she Ubered over to El Coyote to celebrate with her film school friends. They ordered many street tacos—and many more margaritas. They asked Ivy to tell the story of how she did it. She was the first one to really break through as a screenwriter. Her classmates were mostly all working but none of them as a writer. They had become assistant editors, assistant directors, assistants for managers. One just got a job at a casting agency and brought a client’s headshot to dinner hoping Ivy could get him a part so she could get a promotion. Other friends were not there. They had given Hollywood five years and gone back home to very nice lives and having very nice babies. When the check came, it was brought to Ivy. She was still waiting to be paid from Drew’s company, but she did not feel right telling her friends that. So she picked up the bill.
Ivy went into the bathroom. Like a movie moment, she was in the stall when she heard two of her friends at the sink talking about the check. “She’s rich now,” she heard one of her friends say. “I heard she got a million dollars for the script.”
Her celebratory dinner had not been the party she had hoped it would be. A week later, after buying a modest Prius, Charlotte’s assistant had called and told her to be at the Pacific Park amusement center on the Santa Monica Pier at 7:00 p.m.
Drew was out of town in New York meeting with the financial team that owned Brilliant Pictures. Ivy went solo. Charlotte greeted her at the entrance. The Santa Monica Pier and Pacific Park were closed for a private event. Food and rides were all free. Ivy hung out with Dana, Charlotte’s new assistant. They became fast friends.
It was a great night. Until it was not. Charlotte summoned Dana with some ridiculous task, leaving Ivy with two cups of ice cream. There was an older man sitting on a bench, watching the roller coaster. Ivy thought she recognized him. It was the famous director Ray Arthur. Ivy introduced herself and told him that he had once spoken at her film school and that she really enjoyed what he had to say about visual storytelling in a screenplay. She jokingly offered him the extra cup of ice cream as a thank-you.
He accepted, and they spent the next thirty minutes talking, Arthur asking her about her script and how she was handling it. “People treat you differently when you have success. Everyone wants to be your new friend. And your old friends—if they are writers—treat you differently.” Arthur calmed Ivy down about her anxiety that the movie would suck and thanked her for the ice cream. “You’re at the Gates of Oz, Ivy,” he said thoughtfully.
Ivy was thrilled. “That’s how I feel. How did you know?”
“We’re movie people,” Arthur said. “We’ve all been there. Just remember it was just as hard once Dorothy got through the gates. She had to go back out and kill the wicked witch, she learned that Oz was a liar, and in the end she just wanted to go home.”
Ivy smiled at him, nodding. But deep down, she felt he was wrong. She was never going home again.
Preproduction began. Ivy drove her new Prius over to Brilliant Pictures to surprise Drew. She was the one who was about to be surprised. Another whammo.
Drew was meeting with his location manager.
“Ivy, I want you to meet Lane, our location guy. He’s found some perfect spots for us to film,” Drew said.
“Nice to meet you.” Ivy shook hands with Lane, who was in his early thirties and seemed very eager to please.
“I’ve got some great interiors and exteriors to show you,” Lane said. They all sat down as Lane opened up a notebook of photos.
“Here’s where we could film the church. There’s a large parking lot for our equipment, and the inside has gorgeous stained glass,” he told Ivy enthusiastically.
She looked closely at the church. “It’s great. It looks familiar.”
“This is the main street. Most of the stores are willing to let us film outside on the sidewalk,” Lane said as he revealed a quintessential downtown.
“Oh, wow. This looks a lot like Geneva,” Ivy marveled. And that’s when she realized that it had been over five years since she’d returned home, which was why she wasn’t completely sure that it was her town as there were some stores and eateries that looked new.
“And here’s where we think the Ilsa character lives with her family,” Lane pointed out.
Ivy looked at the Victorian-style home with the wraparound porch. She might not have been home in a while but one thing she knew for sure and that was that the house they were thinking about filming in was none other than… “That’s my house!” Ivy exclaimed.
Drew grinned. “I thought you’d love this extra touch.”
“Your parents were terrific. They’re thrilled to have us film in their house. Especially your dad,” Lane said.
“I wanted to surprise you.” Drew beamed. “We got a forty percent below-the-line credit from New York state. We’re going to film the movie in your hometown! Isn’t that great?”
In my hometown. Where I grew up. Where Nick still lives,Ivy thought.
WHAMMO!
