Here we go…chapter ONE, scene ONE of…??? (okay, we need to name our book!)

Scroll to the bottom after you read the scene and I’ll discuss for a moment the choices I made in putting this scene together.

 

Chapter 1.1

 

           “Just once, I’d like to take the Oscar walk down Hollywood Boulevard in my jeans, a blue devil’s tee-shirt, and a pair of flipflops.”  MacKenzie Grace pulled her wrap tight around her shoulders, even as the February chill found the liberal gaps in her dress and raised gooseflesh.  A thousand lights blinked down at her from the Kodak Theater, and around her, limousines honked and maneuvered to the end of the red carpet.  Exhaust mixed with the fragrances of a thousand starlets and the earthy smell from the palm trees lined up like sentries along Hollywood Boulevard.   “Hurry up, Tony.”  

            Sure, she liked her silver Jimmy Choos, the deep purple satin gown picked by her stylist from some new Australian designer, but MacKenzie could do without the ten pound emerald earrings pulling at her ears, and especially the fact that every flash, every pop of light, meant that some gossip rag had fresh ammunition to litter her shame across the newsstands of America. 

No, not her shame.  After all, she’d been half-way across the world, filming in the back alleys and dregs of Bangkok, trying to expose the underbelly of human trafficking.  While her husband – no, make that ex-husband as if two weeks ago — exposed his heart to the leading lady in his, yes, Oscar-nominated film.

MacKenzie should be the one earning an Oscar tonight for her brilliant, magnanimous smile, especially when the camera panned her direction and zoomed in on her expression as Nils Bruno landed his first award for Best Actor. 

Nils, aka Robby, the car-washing burger flopper from McDonalds.

Then again, she’d been a roller-skating waitress from the hills of North Carolina. 

           Three seconds.  The camera turned on her for roughly as long as their marriage had lasted. Still, she’d practically ground her molars to dust watching Nils accept the award, nod to his new wife – weren’t they supposed to be on their honeymoon? – and cleanly excise the woman who’d believed in him, the one who’d ran lines with him, and footed the bill for his shiny white teeth, from his life. 

            He used to eat out of the dumpster outside Wolfgang Pucks! she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs.

But a woman trying to charm Hollywood into backing her recent Indy film, the one she hoped would launch her from action-thriller babe to serious actress, shouldn’t publically disparage one of America’s ‘sexiest men alive’. 

She still had his old ratty converse in a box at home.  Maybe she could sell it on e-bay, earn some cash to promote her film, maybe raise some discerning heads in the industry… 

Oh, who was she kidding?  She’d been Hayes O’Brien, 006, international action heroine for so long, directors probably forgot she’d earned a degree in drama at Duke.  Or that, for a very short run, she’d even been courted by Broadway. 

Then again, maybe everyone had simply weeded through her photo-shopped beauty to the truth.  She couldn’t act her way out of a paper bag. 

Oh, no, there went Tommy Nave’s nasally sixth grade voice in her head again.    

           “I just got off the phone with Tony.  He’s about five limos back.”  Greg Alexander, agent extraordinaire, tucked his blackberry into his pocket, slid in closer to her, and wrapped a warm hand around her shoulders.  She didn’t lean into him – better not encourage the press.  They already had her dating at least three actors, two of whom she’d never even met.  “You’re doing great, Mackenzie,” Greg said, lifting his hand to wave to – oh it didn’t matter.  She looked away.   

            You’re doing great.  He sounded like a doctor, just another pinch, and yes, this will hurt a bit.  She felt as if she’d had her insides filleted watching Nils march down the red carpet, looking resplendent  in his tails.  She had turned off the television in the limo before she did something stupid – or perhaps smart? – and ordered Tony to turn her around, take her home.

Besides, well, she didn’t exactly know where “home” might be anymore. 

Greg lifted his arm, clearly waving Tony to the curb.  “Okay, sweetheart, you go home, get changed, and I’ll meet you at the Vanity Fair party.”  He held out his hand to MacKenzie, as if to help her into the limo. 

She ignored it, let the footman open the door for her, gathered her dress and slid into the seat.  But before Greg could shut the door, she put her hand out to stop it.  “I’m not going.” 

He’d been already turning away, his attention migrating toward his next client.  “What?”  He looked baffled, as if she might have been speaking Bengali.  “Did you say you weren’t going?” 

“I’m not going.”  MacKenzie began pulling off one of her Jimmy Choos.  “I’m tired.  I still have jet lag, and I’ll just be followed around all night with microphones and cameras, gossip magazines wondering if I’m still pining after Nils.  The answer, by the way, is no.”  She waited for a response, but he just stared at her, as if still trying to comprehend her words.

“Greg, I just want to go home, soak in a bath, maybe eat some pizza.” Or pie.  Yes, pie.

Greg finally stirred to life – probably at the thought of her reckless consumption of calories. “Kenzie, hon, you need the press on your side when you go out knocking on doors to find backers.  Tonight is the perfect night to generate buzz. You’ve been laying low for –”

“I’ll call you later.”  She pulled the door closed and leaned against the seat, thankful for the silence embedded in the plush seats.  Tony, his dark hair slicked back, a silver earring in his left ear glanced up at her in the rear view mirror. 

“Home, Miss Grace?” 

“Please.”  She pressed her arms against her waist.  Home.  No, home was a tidy double-wide with brown shag carpeting, a weather-bare pink velour sofa, and an irritable tabby named Boss probably running its claws down her mother’s orange polyester drapes. There’d be a bowl of cold grits in the fridge, and possibly a container of store-bought animal crackers on the counter with the lions missing, of course.  And her father slumped asleep in his ripped vinyl recliner waiting for her mother get off her shift at the rayon factory. 

Longing curled through her they passed the luminous red pagoda of Mann’s Chinese theater, lit up for the Academy Awards, and across the street, Hollywood’s Roosevelt Hotel, its neon red-sign an icon of the silver screen.  Places her parents had never seen.

Never would, thanks to the fact that Mama couldn’t figure out how those “tin cans stay in the air.”   

MacKenzie eased off her other shoe, and brought her foot up to rub the stress from her cramped toes.  “Could we stop by Patrick’s Roadhouse, maybe pick up a banana cream pie?”

Tony flashed her a smile, and it was the first genuine thing she’d see all day. 

She closed her eyes, forcing herself not to see Nils with Isobel, nor his smile and the prodigal swirl of joy at his win.  He’d worked hard for his nomination.  And, judging by the double-digit messages he’d left on her machine, perhaps he hadn’t forgotten the woman who’d helped him land his first role. 

“A whole pie, or just a piece, ma’am?”  Tony said, pulling up to the Roadhouse.  The place teemed with people, some eating out on the patio, and hers wasn’t the only limo in the parking lot.  “Just a piece would be perfect.”  It wasn’t her mama’s, but then again, the roadhouse didn’t have her mama’s secret ingredient, the taste of love.

Oh brother, she was turning into a country-song right before her eyes.  Next thing, she’d dissolve into a y’all while she was fixin’ to dive into her paeh. 

Tony returned with her comfort food in a Styrofoam container and she didn’t bother to wait until she’d changed out of her dress, or he’d pulled into her winding, Cyprus tree bordered drive and stopped at her front portico to dive in.  She did manage to restrain herself from licking the cream from the container with her tongue.  She used her finger, instead, just for Mama. 

The lights sprayed down from the hovering palms as she stepped out onto her terracotta-tiled porch, and handed Tony the empty container and her fork in a bag.  Then she scooped up her shoes, dangling them from her fingers as she tiptoed into the house. 

The front door opened without pause – Tony must have unlocked it – and she dropped her shoes onto a padded rattan bench, flicked on a light.  “Marissa?” 

No response from her housekeeper.  Tone walked in behind her, carrying her purse.  “Everything okay, Miss Grace?” 

She glanced at him, and something about the way he looked past her, to her open living room made her pulse turn to slurry.  “What?”

“Did you have that shipped, because it wasn’t in your luggage.”  He touched his hand on her arm ever so briefly, then moved past her, toward what looked like an armchair covered with a dust cloth sitting in the middle of her sunken family room. 

“No…I’ve never—“

He’d reached it and now pulled the cover off. 

MacKenzie fought the swirl of delight that found her chest.  Nisl hadn’t forgotten.  No, he’d remembered their joke, her first red-carpet appearance when she’d nearly ended up on her face in front of Meryl Streep.  MacKenzie the Elephant.

An elephant in bronze on her coffee table.  A china elephant in her kitchen.  An impressionist print of an elephant over her fireplace.

And now, a nearly life-sized stuffed baby elephant in the middle of her family room, wrapped in a magnificent yellow bow. 

Oh, Nils. 

So, maybe she’d forgive him for not mentioning her tonight in his litany of thank-yous.  He clearly remembered what they’d had together, knew what she’d meant to him.  “I can’t believe – “

But Tony had finished reading the card, and when he turned, his expression stopped her cold.  Chilled her to the bone. 

And that’s when she heard the ticking. 

Tony had slapped his arm around her waist and was already tackling her to the floor when the bomb exploded. 

 

 

Susie’s thoughts ~

When putting this scene together, I had to incorporate a few things. 

ü  First, I needed to show her in her HOME world…what is her life normally like?  We need to experience who she is before the inciting incident, so we can watch her change.

ü  Also, I wanted to hint at her greatest fear – meaning, that she’d never be an actress of merit.  We’re going to develop this more, but I wanted to hint at it here. 

ü  I also wanted to show us the smallest glimpse of her backstory – that she is from North Carolina, and that she comes from humble beginnings. 

ü  And, I wanted to show her breakup, and how that might feel. 

ü  Finally, I wanted to hint at the suspense – the fact that she is in danger. 

 

I also used my standard Acronym to create a great HOOK build the scene.  To read more about how to create a great hook, read the back issues of the HOOKS archives in My Book Therapy (or, go to the My Book Therapy Shop to download a class on how to create a great hook!)

 

Here’s my acronym in action: SHARP

 

S – Stakes:  She has an Indy film she feels passionate about, and she has to find backers to promo it.  But, after having lost her spouse to another woman, she feels a bit like a pariah in the Hollywood community.  All the same, she needs to keep up appearances in order to keep her connections.  (and good press helps.)

H- Heroine Identification:  She has been publically humiliated, and it’s worse when her ex wins an Oscar and doesn’t even acknowledge the fact that she helped him get there.

A – Anchoring:  Hollywood Storyworld on Academy Awards night.  Glitzy red carpet, lights, limos, Hollywood Boulevard. Also, she’s familiar with the world, so we need to have her interact in a non-awkward way.   

R – On the Run…we’ll start with her already broken up with her spouse, already feeling the brunt of her rejection, and AFTER the awards ceremony so we can move into the scene quickly. 

P – Problem or Story Question – everyone who is anyone is going to a party, but she’s going home…and she really wishes she was going home.  Meaning, she’s lost who she is, and isn’t sure how to find it again.  How does a woman who feels she’s lost herself find herself again? 

 

Now I’m going to hand the scene to Rachel, who will make some edits and post her input.  And, it’s Q & A time at VOICES – post your questions about Scene 1.1 and we’ll do our best to answer it. 

 

I’m going to add a thought here – this is just a rough draft. As we go through this process, we will certainly come back and change things…we won’t know what the final product is until we get finished with the story, it gets rewritten and edited…

 

So, it’s not too late to give us your input!  Every Voice counts.