(Standard disclaimer still applies.)
===========================
Mort did a lot of thinking in the two weeks between their lunch and the day they'd decided on as kickoff for their collaboration. The first thing he did was call his agent, and suffered through a ration of crap for not having produced a book yet -- until he broached the subject of co-writing his next novel with Nadine Cooper, at which point Kelly forgave him his sins, apparently while she danced around her office with joy. Then he started rummaging thru the accordian folder he kept bits and pieces in -- old newspaper clippings, pictures, scribbled thoughts -- and tried to decide on a few that might have enough potential to build a novel out of.
Rainey knew he badly needed another successful book. It was almost two years since his last novel's release; it had come out not long after the motel incident with Amy and Ted. He'd blown off doing a book tour on it; too depressed. He could finish hammering out the one he'd been working on and get it printed, but he hated the damned thing, and doubted it would do much to enhance his reputation. A collaboration with another, more recently lauded author would add fresh luster to his name. Not only that, he was certain Nadine wasn't going to let any book go out for reading in less than perfect condition.
Shooter seemed to be biding his time. Mort noted fewer pumpkins around the house; and found strange orange leftovers in the fridge, but Nadine didn't mention anything unusual on the occasions he talked to her, and Rainey wasn't about to bring up the subject.
On the big day, Nadine sauntered through the woods to knock on Rainey's door. He blinked. She wore a black silk top hat and silk patchwork vest over a white man's shirt and weathered blue jeans. Probably freezing her butt off, considering the November day had a temp in the high 40's, but she presented the perfect image of the mildly eccentric writer. "Voila!" she said, sweeping the hat off with a grand flourish. "Ready to start the great adventure?"
By mutual agreement, they'd printed their ideas onto standard 8 1/2" by 11" paper and folded each sheet into quarters. That way, they were all identical and neither of them should be able to tell which was whose. Rainey dropped an even dozen wads of paper into the maw of the hat, unending on his coffee table and waiting. Nadine had a manila envelope tucked onto the padded case of her laptop, and contributed a similar handful.
They took turns stirring the papers around, then looked at each other across the table. It should've been a solemn moment, but Nadine was grinning, and Mort felt a desire to laugh wildly. "Ladies first," he said, gesturing to the hat.
Nadine reached over and stuck her hand into the hat up to the wrist, emerging with a single folded sheet of paper which she handed to him. "The envelope, please."
Rainey unfolded it, recognized the headline of the article. "This is one of mine," he said, and passed it back to her.
"No, this is one of mine," she said, frowning. "See, that's my printer cartridge trying to run out of ink."
"We both put the same idea in?" Mort's mind boggled.
"Looks like it." Nadine sounded unconcerned. "I guess the universe is conspiring for us to write this one."
Mort swallowed and strugged to think of something to say that wouldn't sound too paranoid. "What made you pick that article? Have you got any ideas of where you want to go with it?" She did, and they both made notes as they exchanged thoughts.
"Well, we've got an outline here," Nadine said at last, "although, I've got to warn you, I've never had much luck sticking to outlines. When I do, I always hate the results. Like 'Adele's Promise'."
"Really?" Rainey was surprised. "You made it look so easy."
She winced. "If it had been up to me, I'd probably still be writing it," she admitted. "There were so many more stories I wanted to tell, but I had a deadline."
"So revisit it. Hell, Faulkner did it all the time."
"Do you have to be so insufferably right all the time?" she demanded, but there was a smile on her lips. "Yeah, in my dreams I write like Faulkner, but I know on my best day I don't even come close."
Mort nodded. "It's hard trying to live up to your own expectations," he commented, and thinking of Amy, "and even harder when somebody else wants you to live up to theirs."
"Yeah, Leroy never understood it, he'd say, 'You already wrote the damn thing once, why do you have to go back and rewrite it?' "
"Leroy?"
"My husband."
"You're married?" Mort was startled. There was no ring on her left hand, and her house was obviously her space.
"Technically." She curled her lip. "It's been a little hard to serve him with divorce papers, seeing as how he's living the life in Acapulco with 1.2 million dollars of my hard-earned money."
"Holy shit!" Rainey exclaimed, and heard to his horror, Shooter's offer: "Want me to hunt him down and kill him for you?" He focused hard on the room, and slowly felt Shooter's presence recede.
Nadine laughed. "I wouldn't worry about it. He's not gonna be back, and I'm happy with things just the way they are. I don't have to put up with anybody else's shit anymore. If I want to, I can sit on the couch for four hours staring off into space and plan a chapter without having to get up and cook or do laundry or pretend I'm in the mood when I'm not."
This was personal territory; Mort was still skittish on the subject, but he could relate. "And having ideas at the worst possible moments...."
"Oh, yeah!" Nadine's eyes danced. She acted it out "Oh my God! -- Was that good, honey? -- No, I was just thinking -- "
Mort finished in chorus with her: "Well, stop thinking! And there's the other one," he said, smiling. "When you're working, and somebody wants you to leave it and go somewhere or do something right then, and you tell them you've got to get to a certain point, and they say -- "
"Write faster!" They chuckled together. Nadine was pleasant company. It was going to be fun working together.
Rainey hadn't been this relaxed in longer than he wanted to think about. It felt good. Now if only Shooter wouldn't cause problems....
=================================
I can see that scene as clearly as if it was on dvd: Mort's sitting on the couch talking, pull back: there's Shooter, who offers to kill Nadine's ex. Close up on Mort's panicked expression, pull back again and Shooter's gone....
===========================
Mort did a lot of thinking in the two weeks between their lunch and the day they'd decided on as kickoff for their collaboration. The first thing he did was call his agent, and suffered through a ration of crap for not having produced a book yet -- until he broached the subject of co-writing his next novel with Nadine Cooper, at which point Kelly forgave him his sins, apparently while she danced around her office with joy. Then he started rummaging thru the accordian folder he kept bits and pieces in -- old newspaper clippings, pictures, scribbled thoughts -- and tried to decide on a few that might have enough potential to build a novel out of.
Rainey knew he badly needed another successful book. It was almost two years since his last novel's release; it had come out not long after the motel incident with Amy and Ted. He'd blown off doing a book tour on it; too depressed. He could finish hammering out the one he'd been working on and get it printed, but he hated the damned thing, and doubted it would do much to enhance his reputation. A collaboration with another, more recently lauded author would add fresh luster to his name. Not only that, he was certain Nadine wasn't going to let any book go out for reading in less than perfect condition.
Shooter seemed to be biding his time. Mort noted fewer pumpkins around the house; and found strange orange leftovers in the fridge, but Nadine didn't mention anything unusual on the occasions he talked to her, and Rainey wasn't about to bring up the subject.
On the big day, Nadine sauntered through the woods to knock on Rainey's door. He blinked. She wore a black silk top hat and silk patchwork vest over a white man's shirt and weathered blue jeans. Probably freezing her butt off, considering the November day had a temp in the high 40's, but she presented the perfect image of the mildly eccentric writer. "Voila!" she said, sweeping the hat off with a grand flourish. "Ready to start the great adventure?"
By mutual agreement, they'd printed their ideas onto standard 8 1/2" by 11" paper and folded each sheet into quarters. That way, they were all identical and neither of them should be able to tell which was whose. Rainey dropped an even dozen wads of paper into the maw of the hat, unending on his coffee table and waiting. Nadine had a manila envelope tucked onto the padded case of her laptop, and contributed a similar handful.
They took turns stirring the papers around, then looked at each other across the table. It should've been a solemn moment, but Nadine was grinning, and Mort felt a desire to laugh wildly. "Ladies first," he said, gesturing to the hat.
Nadine reached over and stuck her hand into the hat up to the wrist, emerging with a single folded sheet of paper which she handed to him. "The envelope, please."
Rainey unfolded it, recognized the headline of the article. "This is one of mine," he said, and passed it back to her.
"No, this is one of mine," she said, frowning. "See, that's my printer cartridge trying to run out of ink."
"We both put the same idea in?" Mort's mind boggled.
"Looks like it." Nadine sounded unconcerned. "I guess the universe is conspiring for us to write this one."
Mort swallowed and strugged to think of something to say that wouldn't sound too paranoid. "What made you pick that article? Have you got any ideas of where you want to go with it?" She did, and they both made notes as they exchanged thoughts.
"Well, we've got an outline here," Nadine said at last, "although, I've got to warn you, I've never had much luck sticking to outlines. When I do, I always hate the results. Like 'Adele's Promise'."
"Really?" Rainey was surprised. "You made it look so easy."
She winced. "If it had been up to me, I'd probably still be writing it," she admitted. "There were so many more stories I wanted to tell, but I had a deadline."
"So revisit it. Hell, Faulkner did it all the time."
"Do you have to be so insufferably right all the time?" she demanded, but there was a smile on her lips. "Yeah, in my dreams I write like Faulkner, but I know on my best day I don't even come close."
Mort nodded. "It's hard trying to live up to your own expectations," he commented, and thinking of Amy, "and even harder when somebody else wants you to live up to theirs."
"Yeah, Leroy never understood it, he'd say, 'You already wrote the damn thing once, why do you have to go back and rewrite it?' "
"Leroy?"
"My husband."
"You're married?" Mort was startled. There was no ring on her left hand, and her house was obviously her space.
"Technically." She curled her lip. "It's been a little hard to serve him with divorce papers, seeing as how he's living the life in Acapulco with 1.2 million dollars of my hard-earned money."
"Holy shit!" Rainey exclaimed, and heard to his horror, Shooter's offer: "Want me to hunt him down and kill him for you?" He focused hard on the room, and slowly felt Shooter's presence recede.
Nadine laughed. "I wouldn't worry about it. He's not gonna be back, and I'm happy with things just the way they are. I don't have to put up with anybody else's shit anymore. If I want to, I can sit on the couch for four hours staring off into space and plan a chapter without having to get up and cook or do laundry or pretend I'm in the mood when I'm not."
This was personal territory; Mort was still skittish on the subject, but he could relate. "And having ideas at the worst possible moments...."
"Oh, yeah!" Nadine's eyes danced. She acted it out "Oh my God! -- Was that good, honey? -- No, I was just thinking -- "
Mort finished in chorus with her: "Well, stop thinking! And there's the other one," he said, smiling. "When you're working, and somebody wants you to leave it and go somewhere or do something right then, and you tell them you've got to get to a certain point, and they say -- "
"Write faster!" They chuckled together. Nadine was pleasant company. It was going to be fun working together.
Rainey hadn't been this relaxed in longer than he wanted to think about. It felt good. Now if only Shooter wouldn't cause problems....
=================================
I can see that scene as clearly as if it was on dvd: Mort's sitting on the couch talking, pull back: there's Shooter, who offers to kill Nadine's ex. Close up on Mort's panicked expression, pull back again and Shooter's gone....