by D. M. Paige
I thought of Jerry. “So you think I should pick something safer?”
“No way. No one’s better prepared for a career like this.”
“How do you figure that?”
“You’ve never had safe. You don’t know what you’re missing.” He smiled when he said it, but he looked far away, as if he was maybe remembering his own rise.
When I got on the plane, I had texts from Nina, Becca, and even Brent. I still didn’t have a home exactly. But maybe home wasn’t a place exactly. Maybe for me it was a list like this. People I could call when I screwed up. People I could call when I was on top of the world.
Dear Mr. Holt,
Thank you for the opportunity. I went into this whole experience with maybe not the best attitude. In fact, I went into this thing not expecting much. But I was wrong. I didn’t think I belonged on a film set. And once I got there, I thought I was too good for all the small-time stuff that happens on set. But I get it now. The small-time stuff, from props to craft services, is all part of moviemaking, and without it the big-time stuff couldn’t be possible. And I want to be big-time. I’m willing to do what it takes to get there.
Sincerely,
Jason Hart
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
D. M. Paige attended Columbia University and her first internship eventually led her to her first writing job at Guiding Light, a soap opera. She writes and lives in New York City.
