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Brynn Sampson: Just thought you should know who your real friends are.
Brynn. My other online writing friend, the one who’d gone silent as of late. She’d attached a screenshot of a text exchange. After the DM I’d gotten from my other writing friend, Sabrina, I really didn’t want to read it, but my own morbid curiosity had me opening the message.
Sabrina Hartley: I cannot believe Sophia bagged Roman Grier.
Brynn Sampson: I know. It’s like something from one of her screenplays. I love it.
Sabrina Hartley: Do you? You know she’s going to get a deal way before us because she’s fucking one of the biggest stars in Hollywood.
Brynn Sampson: You know that’s not how it works, right? He can’t just give her a movie deal. Someone way above his paygrade has to like her screenplay.
Sabrina Hartley: And she’ll get there faster because now she has access we don’t. Never thought she’d be the one who’d try to get ahead by laying on her back.
Brynn Sampson: Whoa. Bitter much?
My heart plummeted into my stomach. I couldn’t say I was a hundred percent surprised, but it still hurt to see that someone who I’d thought of as a close friend said such nasty things about me. It was one thing to hear the speculation from strangers at craft services, but my own friends?
Was that what everyone thought? Would anyone think I had talent if I sold a script? Or would they all forever think I’d sold my body for a career?
I stared unseeing at my computer screen. The words blurred. I didn’t know what to do with this. I felt like a fraud.
I exited out of my screenwriting program and opened up my query spreadsheet. In the past month I’d only queried a handful of agents, and none of them had gotten back to me yet. None of them were chomping at the bit to represent me. No one wanted to sign me.
Why was I doing this to myself?
On the edge of a mental breakdown, my cell rang. Half afraid it was Brynn or Sabrina, I almost didn’t even check. But then I saw the display read “Dad”, and of course I answered.
“Hey Dad.” I tried to put a happy inflection in my tone. “What’s going on?”
“Morning, Sophia. Not much here. How are things in Tinsel Town?”
“It’s great.” Wow, that hadn’t sounded convincing at all.Dammit, Sophia. Hold it together. “I went to the set this morning and watched Rome work. It got me so excited to write my own words. I’d love it if that was me one day. Not doing the acting but having actors make my movie, ya know? My fingers literally itched to get to writing. It was pretty amazing.”
“I love to hear that, princess.” Just the sound of his deep voice and his approval filled me with warmth. My dad was awesome. “You know, I was worried about you being with someone like Rome. I was worried you would let him and his life eclipse you. It’s important to still have dreams and work toward them. Don’t let yourself live in his shadow. Keep chasing your dreams. It’s why you moved so far away, after all.”
“I didn’t move that far away, Dad. I’m still in California,” I replied, smiling and feeling so much lighter than before. Somehow, without me telling him, my dad knew I needed him. Damn, I loved this man.
“You’re a seven-hour drive away. That’s pretty far for me and my old bones.”
I didn’t like the reminder of how old my dad was. It was kinda surreal. Every time I went home to see him, it felt like he’d aged so much while I was gone. His brown hair was now mostly gray. He looked more like my grandpa than the strong man who’d raised me. Still, I evaded. “I wouldn’t know. I can’t remember the last time you drove down here. Maybe when I first moved?”
He laughed. “Maybe I’ll surprise you and fly down one of these days.”
“You do that, Dad.” I sighed, knowing full well that Mom wouldn’t let him. She was too petrified to fly and firmly believed that me driving to her was somehow shorter than her driving to me. “Anything else going on? When do classes start up again?”
We chatted for a few more minutes before he had to get going to my brother’s house to see his grandkids.
“Remember what I said, Sophia. Don’t let your guy dull your sparkle. Keep chasing your dreams. They’re important.”
I smiled as I said goodbye.
I stared at my cell phone wondering what dreams, if any, Dad had to give up. He’d always loved the written word. He spent most of his evenings and summers working on his Great American Novel, not that he ever published it. When I was growing up, I thought he just used it as an excuse to hide from Mom. Lord knew I’d done it myself.
But now I wondered.
More determined than ever, I pulled up my stalled rom-com and was deep into rewrites when my phone pinged with a calendar reminder.
Rent due in two days
