They both began chattering excitedly and neither could hear or care what the other was trying to say. Finally running out of steam and laughing now, they both came to the same conclusion: This was an exciting event in their humdrum lives. A movie star, a television celebrity, someone famous had called Leslie!
Leslie was on the phone for another two hours replaying the tape for her different friends who had known about her writing as well as those she knew were fans of “The Time Police” television show. She came to realize that she was being asked the same question by all of them: “What are you going to do now?”
At first that stumped her. She wrote the stories. They were sent to the show. The actors read and liked them. That was it. She hadn't thought it out past that. What was she going to do next?
“I guess I'm going to rewrite my stories after I finish CHATEAU REX. What's novel form, anyway?” she asked all of them.
“I dunno.”
“Me, either,” Leslie responded, becoming a little more deflated each time she asked the question.
She had told Janice she hated rewriting.
“Get used to it,” blunt Janice had advised.
Even though Leslie and her friends didn't know exactly what would come next, they were all unanimous about one thing: Phillip Beck was one terrific guy. He was now endeared to them. He took some of his valuable time and contacted one of the outsiders. To the fans of “The Time Police,” he had now become their favorite actor. To them, he was now being referred to as “Leslie's Actor/Friend.”
In the days that followed, after Leslie came back down to earth, she started doing research on novel writing at the library. The only difference she could see between a novel and what she had already written was, basically, the length. That meant one thing: Rewrite everything.
She hurriedly finished her favorite story so far, CHATEAU REX, in which the Professor abducts Jane and falls in love with her. It was short—way too short—but now she had plans for it later. Leslie made a duplicate copy for “her actor” the next day at an office supply store, and then sat down to compose a thank-you letter to Phillip Beck. Realizing he would probably no longer be at the studio, she called Majestic Studio and was surprised to be given the name and address of Mr. Beck's agent, a Bill Michaels. They were “sure she could reach him that way.”
“Hello, again, Phillip,
I wanted to tell you how much I appreciated your phone call. It was nice of you to take the time to read my story and to let me know your thoughts. It was an unexpected bonus.
Majestic Studio gave me your agent's name and address. I wasn't sure this letter would reach you the same way as the last time. I hope you don't mind. I really wanted to thank you for your call and also to send you this story.
I know your life doesn't revolve around “The Time Police.” (Neither does mine.) It is a job in your business as an actor. But, you do such a good job with the Professor that I, in turn, enjoy writing about him!
Your call did raise some questions. Basically, how and where? How would I turn my stories into novels and where would they be sent? Script form doesn't seem wise at this point for me. I have a general, vague idea what a script might look like. (I'd love to see a page.)
I know. I know. I am runnething over with questions. Your business is fascinating to an outsider like myself. I have so many questions. For example, how long does it take to shoot an episode? Do you memorize all your lines or do you do piecework? Things of this nature.
After a year of writing, it is exciting to have someone say ‘I took the time. I enjoyed what you did.’ So, I appreciate that you did contact me.
Tell you what. I'll get an agent and then my agent will call your agent and we'll do lunch. It will be on me. And, the way I eat, it probably will be!
Thank you for making my day and giving me something constructive to think about. Next time you're in Amherst, I'll show you my chateau.
Best wishes,
Leslie Nelson”
Two years earlier, Leslie Nelson, suddenly having a lot of free time on her hands, found herself in a bit of a predicament. Her husband of two and a half years abruptly decided he didn't like married life any more, so why didn't she move out and he could have his house back to himself? She waited patiently for six months to see if things could be corrected, but the inevitable happened and they were able to reach an amicable settlement agreement. Irreconcilable Differences is what he listed as his reason, but only she knew the real reason. After those six months of hearing what an awful wife and lover she had been, her self-confidence plummeted to its lowest depth, Leslie left weak-kneed for her own apartment with the furniture she had had before her marriage. She couldn't help but feel disappointed, even when she knew in her heart that she had tried her hardest.
“Freedom!” might be the rallying cry from some quarters. However, what kind of freedom was it? Leslie did indeed have more free time, but she now found herself in an awkward position socially. All her married friends did things as couples. All her single friends were many years younger. She basically didn't fit in well any longer. More of this newfound free time was spent with her parents and more time was spent in front of the television to fill in the quiet evenings after her job in the upscale clothing shop.
As Leslie flipped through the dial, night after night, looking for that one great new show, she finally landed on a series called “The Time Police.” Hers was not a scientific mind, so some of the plots were a little over her head. But, the program became part of her routine and slowly she came to appreciate the unique show and developed a sort of sympathy and liking for the characters.
One of the characters she especially liked was The Loner. As the weeks went by, she began to notice a pattern…the writers always killed off his romantic partners. Leslie liked happy-ever-after endings—even though she well knew real life wasn't that way.
On one particular foggy morning in the valley, an idea planted itself in her brain as she got ready for work. It was a vague idea, but nevertheless an idea just the same. Why not write an episode for The Loner where he gets to keep the girl? she thought to herself. She had written down fantasies and dreams she had had over the years, embellishing them into short stories. She knew how to carry a story through to the end. This couldn't be much different, could it? She was quite familiar with the characters of the show. Why not?
Far different from her other off-the-wall ideas, she just couldn't get this one out of her mind. Soon a plot was forming and new characters were taking shape and getting named. As all this started to come together, she knew she had to run out and buy a large notebook and a supply of pens. Still, it wasn't until two weeks later that Leslie sat on her sofa with the first blank sheet of paper waiting on her lap desk. The title of her story had been chosen five days earlier: THE LONER FINDS LOVE. That part was easy.
The opening paragraph was not.
But once she committed the opening words to paper, she was amazed how easily the words and ideas flowed out onto the paper. Hours flew by. She made notes while she was at work when an idea came or a chance remark by a customer sparked an inspiration.
Her parents started seeing less of her and her television became dark and quiet. Her mother would call to see if she wanted to do something and Leslie would say she was busy in her apartment. She still hadn't yet told anyone what she was doing. At eight o'clock on Friday night, however, the pen would be put down and Leslie would take a one-hour break to watch and record on her VCR “The Time Police.”
When her best friend Janice would stop by on a Saturday afternoon, Leslie would quickly stuff the notebook under the sofa. She was amused when she realized she was actually saving a lot of money by not going to the mall so often with Janice or her mom.
In twenty-eight days, she had written ninety pages into the spiral notebook and wrote with an elaborate flourish “The End.” It took Leslie a little over two hours to reread her story, adding a word here and correcting spelling there, but, liking what she read, she made no significa
nt changes.
The next morning, before they started working out front in the boutique, Leslie approached Janice and quietly held out a blue notebook. “Will you read something I wrote and give me your honest opinion?”
Janice took the spiral book and a look of amazement crossed her face as she thumbed through the many pages. “What is it?” Janice had read some of Leslie's stories before. One had centered on a vacation the two of them had taken together. Another had been a love story about a boy Leslie had had a crush on seven years earlier. Those were just short, cute stories. Janice wasn't expecting something like this. This looked serious.
Looking around to make sure their boss wasn't nearby to overhear, Leslie lowered her voice. “It's a story about the T.V. show ‘The Time Police.’ I…I had some time to kill,” was her only explanation as she blushed and walked away.
The notebook was returned the next morning and Janice was very enthusiastic. She, too, was a fan of The Loner. “Now that is more like it! Why can't they do an episode like that on the show!?”
Her reaction pleased Leslie. “You really like it?”
“Yes! Even though I didn't like how mean you made Andrew. That's not like him on the show.”
Leslie thought for a minute and shrugged. “I guess somebody had to be antagonistic. Not everyone gets along with everyone else. It's not all la-de-da.”
“I guess. What are you going to do with your story?”
“Do with it?” Leslie echoed with a frown. “I don't know. I just concentrated on writing the thing.” A mischievous grin came across her face. “Maybe I'll type it up and send it to Tom Young. Who knows? Maybe they'll use it on the show.”
Their boss's good-natured voice came to them from her office. “Hey, you two. I don't pay you to talk to each other. Get out there and sell some dresses to someone who doesn't need them!”
Janice and Leslie grinned at each other. “Aye, aye, Cap'n,” Leslie saluted as they went out front and opened the shop for the day.
A bundle of one hundred forty carefully typed pages was nervously handed to the clerk at the print shop.
“I need two copies of this,” Leslie told her, one hand still on the title page.
She was asked, “What kind of paper do you have in mind?”
“I…I don't know.” Stumped by yet another problem she had not anticipated, Leslie lowered her voice. “It's going to Majestic Studio. What would you recommend?”
The clerk glanced up at this explanation, but Leslie's eyes were still on the story on the counter between them. She seemed afraid to let go of the papers.
A book of sample paper was brought out and Leslie chose a high-quality ivory-colored paper and a black spiral binding. The price quote made her groan, but she told the clerk to go ahead, and quickly left the store before she lost her nerve and changed her mind.
Impressed by the look of the finished product, Leslie slipped the small manuscript and a letter of introduction into a padded envelope addressed to Tom Young in care of the studio. She also included a copy of a photo of herself that Janice had taken in which she was being hugged by a large rabbit. “The Time Police” Fan Club of Los Angeles had supplied Leslie with the address of the studio and she managed to relax once it was actually mailed.
Her disappointment in not receiving a quick reply was offset by her involvement in the next story she decided to write. This one was set six months later and would be a Western highlighting the talents of the Professor Rex Farrell. He had appeared recently on the series and Leslie liked his witty dialogue and mischievousness. She could use all the sarcasm her mother had tried to eradicate in her all these years. Plus, the actor himself was tall, dark and handsome. Not a bad combination.
For this story, to help keep it all straight, she drew maps of towns and counties. There were character sheets and plot outlines as this story, WESTWARD REX, took the squad into a time period filled with new people and places. The squad's lives intermixed more than in her other story. This time they would actually have to live in that time period longer than usual, so Leslie felt more people were required to fill it out.
Leslie was thoroughly enjoying the writing process and Janice was soon converted into a fan of the Western. In the time span of thirty-one days, the story was written, typed out on her electric typewriter, and mailed off to Phillip Beck.
Exactly twelve days later, on a tired Monday evening when she arrived home to her apartment, there it was—the red light on Leslie's answering machine was blinking on and off.
“Oh, I hate rewriting,” Leslie grumbled to herself as she struggled with her first story. “I hate rewrites. I hate typing. I hate correction fluid. I hate blue ink!”
She paused in her tirade and looked at the yellow and white striped stuffed cat sitting on the sofa next to her. It smiled complacently off into space. “Well, I feel better,” Leslie declared with a self-conscious laugh. “I need a word processor,” she decided, looking at the sheets of paper covering the coffee table in front of her. “And a secretary. I need a secretary. And I really need to stop talking to myself.”
Leslie concentrated on adding new enemies and plot twists and made Andrew meaner towards the newcomer Jane. The story slowly expanded to one hundred ninety pages. It took her as long to add those fifty pages as it had to write the original story.
The Western took another month to expand. She enlarged the Professor's role and put her heroine Jane a little more into the background. The regular actors were profiled more and given more action.
Her co-workers at the boutique noticed her preoccupation. Janice, always the enthusiastic supporter, had not remained idle. She had been busy dropping names and hints around the shop to indicate something big was in the making.
She would ask Leslie, “Has Majestic Studio called you again?”
Or, “What do you hear from Phillip Beck?”
Or, “How's your second novel coming along?”
No longer being able to ignore the neon-bright hints from Janice, Leslie had to tell them about her little stories and her plan to send them to Adventure Novels Publications to see about getting them published.
The reactions were mixed. “I didn't know you were creative.” “How much are they paying you?” “Why ‘The Time Police’?” “Can I have a copy?” “Are you going to move to Los Angeles?” “You didn't go to college….”
Leslie smiled to herself. She didn't know what would happen. Plus, she had no knowledge of the publishing world. Again she had done a lot of research at the library, only to thoroughly confuse her. Three hours were spent reading over submission tips, and she decided to do the one thing that was not highly recommended: She was planning on submitting directly to the publisher. She would use Phillip's name on the introduction letter and hope it would sneak through the system.
After three weeks of part-time typing, Leslie was finished with THE LONER FINDS LOVE and was halfway through WESTWARD REX. She had used two hundred eighty-four sheets of typing paper, three bottles of correction fluid, and six typewriter ribbons. She needed a break. She unplugged her typewriter, turned off her apartment's lights, and went to the mall.
When she returned, she found a plastic container on her coffee table and a note.
Mom.
Leslie groaned and looked at the clutter of papers on her kitchen table where she did her typing. The top few sheets had been moved. At this point in time she still hadn't told her parents about her writing. They didn't like the television show and wouldn't understand why she was writing about it. She really didn't want to hear about wasted time and money and shutting herself up in her apartment instead of seeing her friends….
The phone rang.
Leslie stared at it. She knew who it was. With a sigh, she answered. “Hello?”
“Oh, good. You're home. I was by an hour ago, but you were gone.”
“Hi, Mom. Yeah, I just ran an errand. What's up?” Leslie asked, hoping something else was on her mother's mind.
But, no. “Nothing's up with me. Sa
y, what are you doing? Writing a book?” Bonnie Nelson asked with a laugh, indicating the absurdity of the notion.
Leslie silently drew in a deep breath. Why not tell her? “Yeah, I am. This one's about half typed.”
“No, really, what are you doing?”
Leslie thought to herself, I've got to get my key back from her…. Out loud, she tried to answer pleasantly, “Really, that's what I'm doing. I've already written three stories. I've lengthened the first two and plan on submitting them for publication.”
There was a significant pause. “Honey, if you don't want to tell me, fine. I understand….”
“Mom! That's the truth. I sent a copy to an actor at the Majestic Studio and he called and recommended I make it into a novel.” Leslie was almost laughing. She could just picture her mother's confused expression. She could also hear Bonnie's muffled talking to her dad.
“Lou, she says she's writing a novel…I don't know.… Some actor called her.… I don't know…. What actor?” Leslie was asked as her mother's hand was removed from the mouthpiece.
Leslie knew what her mom's response would be to “Phillip Beck.”
“Who?”
Right-o. “He guest-stars on the television show “The Time Police.”
The voice on the other end of the phone sounded disgusted. “You mean those cops and robbers and mad scientists and stuff?”
“More or less. There's a lot of time travel. My story is a Western,” Leslie explained, hoping the idea of something familiar would placate her.
Her dad, Lou, now came on the line. “Les, if you need some money, just ask.”
“I'm doing fine, Dad. This is for fun.”
“Oh, okay. Here's your mother.”
“Mom,” Leslie spoke quickly, “I've got to get back to work. I have a lot of typing to do.”
“Okay. If there's anything we can do to help, just ask. Bye, dear.”
When the phone clicked and the dial tone sounded in her ear, Leslie leaned her head against the counter, smacking her forehead lightly on the cool surface. “Well, that went well.”
The Fan Letter Page 4
