It seems a little impulsive ...

... so, okay, my laptop hasn't been working so hot lately. I've tried a few things to get it working again. It's beautiful for actual writing and keeping track of Uprooted, but everything else is kind of pie right now. And I have had three laptops in the last ten years, including about four years between my first one dying and my second one. The second one lasted like, a year. And they're all windows computers ... so yesterday my sister and I went to Lakeside and I bought an apple mac.

I'll still be using my dell, my last windows laptop, for writing, but now I have the mac for play. It seems indulgent and impulsive but I'm sick of constantly replacing my laptops and I want to see if the mac lasts better. When the dell dies, I'll get office for mac on it and carry on the story there.

If you want real impulsive, I bought a locket in Warren James and a box of proper froot loops for like, £9. The tesco version sucks, it's green-brown or brown-brown loops and they taste of cardboard. It's like 'how can we barstardise froot loops?' so I will pay out extra for awesome.

Yeah ... my cards are going to reject me for a little while now.

100

This is my 100th post! Indulge me a little. I'm going to use this post to rant on about myself and give you the impression I have an enlarged sense of ego (or id, if you're into Freud), it's probably the correct assumption. If you've heard this from me before, or been part of the story, sorry for boring you. But we're still cool, right?

So, as you can tell by now, I love writing, and reading. Even when I'm not reading books (having only completed 38 of my 50 book challenge for goodreads this year) I'm reading. I've been working my way through the sporkings on Mervin and co's livejournal community (and I've read the six-and-a-half Ariana Black stories, the five-and-a-half Twilight ones, one fifty shades one and three-and-a-half Rose Potter ones so that's actually fifteen not included on goodreads. Ha, screw you system! Fifty-three!) or I'm reading posters, my son's schoolwork, stories to my son (tonight, two Mr Men books and a chapter of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader) ... it's a big thing for me. So now you get to find out how that came to be, you lucky things, you.

I don't remember books being in our first house, when it was just my mum, my two brothers, my sister and me. Look, my mum had to give up work to raise the four of us when my dad split, and we were using cardboard boxes for furniture. Our main TV was about the size of an iPad, and in black-and-white. She met my stepdad when I was three, and got married to him when I was four (I approved, because he made good tomato soup and had these weird soup bowls that we still have somewhere, and never use now. Also, my stepsister had an impressive My Little Pony collection. He ticked all my four-year-old boxes) and he introduced me to Narnia. Like, no shitting, he would read me Narnia, and Roald Dahl, and he had a colour TV so we could watch those BBC reinactments of things like Narnia, and the BFG film, and he really engaged me in reading.

I went to school. I hated it, it was boring. They would set three pieces of work for the day in the morning, and I'd finish that shit in an hour. I would play dress up or read my way through the mini-library in the classroom. My parents went nuts when they realised I spent most of my time playing by myself because the work was too easy. I went to a school geared for learning difficulties, they more than stunted me. I got moved to a school in another town - the infant school connected to my stepdad's junior school - and my brothers and sisters had to come too. First time I ever heard of 'science hour' or 'music class'. I struggled with the change. But the one good thing was, I had to go to the junior school after my school finished, and wait for my stepdad to drive us home. I had to wait in the library.

I read the shit out of that library in the five years it was my after-school babysitter. When I wasn't playing chess with my brother or going to orchestra, choir, football, netball, tennis, French lessons, computer club, recorder club, flute practice, Christian Union (they tried to get us in clubs to halt the boredom. I think it's why I get erratically obsessed with so many things now). I would insist on weekly visits to the library, max out my allowable and read as I was leaving. Sometimes, I finished the first book before we got home. I got given the teen level allowable when I was still nine, because I liked the Sweet Valley series. I read a tonne of shit I shouldn't have because of that thing.

I liked daydreaming, when I wasn't reading. I liked pretending I was friends with the Babysitters Club girls. I liked imagining I lived in Sweet Valley. I didn't write any of my daydreams down (I could negotiate my way to some pens and paper out of my pocket money, sure, but I was always hungry and craving sweets, I had a limited amount of money, and whenever I got paper and pens my mind went blank). I used to wish I could type like my stepdad's secretaries ...

My year four teacher, Miss Cox, was amazing. She had an incredible imagination. We were studying Christopher Columbus and the Aztecs? We had to bake Ships Biscuits, learn Sea Shanties, make Aztec jewellery, she brought a hotplate in so we could make stuffed tortillas. She brought her brother in, to teach us to draw portraits and play baseball. She was so good at music. We did another project, and she constructed a booth for us to pretend it was a travel agency, and we made our own passports, currency, debit cards, and 'paid' to 'fly' all over the place. She brought in her cat. Her voices when she read us books? Wow. I was sick a lot that year - I had a gum boil and was swallowing a lot of pus and feeling sick, and ended up having four teeth pulled in the year - but I still remember a lot of her lessons. But the best thing about Miss Cox? Was the stories. Write what would happen if you had a time machine. What does it look like? Who was there? What did you do and when did you go? I've locked you in the classroom for a month, write a diary in that time. Guys, I still remember these assignments because they gripped me so hard, and I don't remember much because of the effects of the TTP. Miss Cox is one of my favourite teachers of all time. She set my imagination on fire.

And then I got to high school. I was gifted - I took my eleven plus voluntarily and got into a school even further away from my house, but in another direction - but despite that I was naïve. I hadn't really paid attention to grammar and syntax before then, and I was paying for it at my high school. They were obsessed with the construct of language. Siobhan doesn't know the difference between a noun and an adjective? What the fuck is this plebeian doing in a grammar school? (seriously, I think I got the concept when I was nineteen. More on that later) Our creative writing projects were few and far between. I was being stamped down. Miss Cox's fire was being put out.

For a school made for genius girls, they were kind of slow on the uptake. So was I, to be fair. I would get sixes and sevens on my assignments, until it was creative writing. I never got less than a nine on those. Why did they not grasp that I understood the basics of language on a primitive level? I know what word should go where, but the why went over my head.

A few high school assignments stand out for me, creative-writing-wise. I think it's the majority of what we got given, which is a little scary. Two from first year, one from fifth year (when I twigged my English MO). The first one was a joint effort, we were read a short story called The Fury, about a man obsessed with rabbits. My memory blurs the actual story with the assignment, but in a group we had to write what happened next. Me and my group - two other girls, the one on This Morning and a geologist, now - decided to split the story. Lindsey got the first part, Mel got the middle, I got the end. We wrote separately, at home, put our story together ... it fit. It was morbid, there was a lot of blood and guts and gore. We were so pleased.

The other ... do you remember those Young Letter Writer competitions? The cut-off age is twelve. The year my high school entered me, they were making a book of poems rather than a letter competition. My teacher decided we had to pair up, and pick an animal to write about, then write individual poems. No two pairs could pick the same animal. The girl I normally sat next to, Gemma, decided with Mel that they were going to write about an Artic fox (to this day, not a fucking Scooby about that one) so I turned to Lindsey, who normally sat with Mel just behind us. She wanted to write about lions. I really couldn't care less either way, I thought the assignment was stupid.

Look, me and my friends ... we'd bonded because we were young-minded. These are the girls who, at eleven and twelve, introduced me to the Teletubbies. Let that sink in for a second. Needless to say, we loved Disney. I still do, actually. Anyway, so I made my assignment about the Lion King, because I'm awesome. I took it to the teacher to check, and she told me it sounded like something Disney would make into a movie and I had to redo it. I was so mad, it was a stupid assignment and duh, it was the Lion King and I hated her so much. Oh, I rewrote it. I killed every single fucking lion off, in twelve short lines of prose. I took it back, wanting to be chewed out this time for not taking the assignment seriously ... and heard 'this is good, see what you can do when you put your mind to it?' My God I was pissed off at the end of that lesson. I did learn, however, that I wrote pain better than I wrote fluff (this was before The Fury, btw). I got a letter saying my poem would be in the book. It was £17, if we wanted a copy. Creepily, the anthology is called From A Secret Place. You wanna read the poem? I've memorised that shit, because dude, I got published at eleven. Here it is, glaze over it if you want:

The Lion

Child

A very young lion, barely born
Golden all round is he,
Lying in his mothers arms,
Perfect in every way.

Teenager

Lying in the long grass,
Watching the zebra play,
Suddenly he hears a gun shoot,
And sees his mother and father, dead

Adult

All alone with golden mane,
Surrounding his face and ears,
Wanting a mother and father again,
He starves on the plain.

... so don't piss me off about my writing, yes? I kept the original stanza's from the Lion King version, if you were wondering about the age thing.

So the last assignment I remember from high school, when I was having my 'how Siobhan learns English' epiphany? It was a truly creative writing project, not a bounce-off from something else. We had to write a story about meeting our boyfriend's parents, but we had to make it interesting. I threw so much unlikely shit into it, it was practically a fanfic. Bad directions, mother couldn't drive, wrong address, boyfriend was a triplet so I kissed the wrong guy, his brother had an allergic reaction to ham (I don't know. I was a vegetarian. Meat sucked) ... best thing about year eleven, because the bitch who gave that assignment had an assignment of her own called 'make Siobhan cry every lesson, and try to persuade her not to take her English GCSE's and hide any and all of her decent coursework' but it backfired, because even with my D-grade assignments, I got a fucking A. She couldn't look me in the eye in sixth form.

But in parallel to all this, at fourteen I had discovered the internet. Ah, internet, I love you *hugs the internet* my first time on an a1 message board, this girl - Sammie - told me I had to give her my email address and I had to have hers and we were going to be friends. I was a little intimidated. I thought she was really popular on the board, since I'd seen her chatting to other people. But we started emailing, and I realised she wasn't the scary dragon my first interpretation had led me to believe. She introduced me to people like Lisa and Hanne, one of whom I'm still in contact with and one has melted off the face of the earth. She also told me she'd written an a1 fanfic and I had to read and give her brilliant reviews (don't judge her on that, I was still intimidated). I read and ... you know when you're in the car and you crest a hill and the decline is steeper than you thought and you get that swooping sensation in your stomach? That happened. People wrote stories ... about bands? And actors? And other things? Dude, I would watch Malcolm In The Middle and then fanfic Malcolm in my head, but I didn't think other people wanted to read that shit! But they DID! I read, I absorbed, I created a msn page to post my very own first fanfic, about me and my friends from another chatroom creating a band and meeting all these other bands. I stuck in some purple prose and thought I was the shit.

I got the bug back. I would write fanfics in my free periods and lunch periods. I would bring extra notebooks into school to feed the bug. I wrote Sammie into my second fanfic, and a lot of subsequent ones, as a thank you for reconnecting me with something I loved.

We were doing options at school. I looked up 'author' in potential vocations, but it was so limited and ambiguous, and my school were so harsh about us making something of ourselves that I scared myself out of it. Stupid bitch that I am. I spent like, 80% of my lunchtimes in high school in the library, I was a freaking librarian. I got to the point where, when the head librarian asked me to print Dewey Decimal codes for books, I would look at the content and know where it belonged. Biology, 603.1. Autobiographies, 931.

I was still writing. God, I loved writing. Why wasn't I doing it all the time before? I had so many stories exploding in my head. I wrote collaborations, one-offs, series ... anything and everything. In those fanfics, I wrote about a girl called Louise Manning, in a story I called Unattainable. I didn't make the connection for a while, but she was the first germ of an idea I had for Lambrini (and now, anyone who ever read it is making the connection too, right down to the bullying and the brother thing). It was when I was writing my biggest one, that I called Not Another Teen Fic (harrrseewhatIdidthar!) that Uprooted really started to take shape in my head. By then, I was in uni, bored and unhappy and unstimulated. I was writing about four fanfics at once, but I wanted to undertake Uprooted for what it was. I wanted to do it right. I started planning it like crazy.

I left uni, still planning the story, still writing drafts and connecting characters and assigning storylines, and went to work in McDonald's, which I had joined between my second and third years (when Tom Hanks was filming in my uni town for the Da Vinci Code. Fucking waste of an opportunity, that). I met a real-life Fiesta, a real crazy girl who, amongst other things, faked having a baby. I could not make that shit up. She even looked like the Fiesta in my head. I had to remind myself of her name all the freaking time. I spent a lot of time on the cash booth of drive thru, and when there were no cars, I was creating scenes. I wrote a large proportion of the storyline in that cramped three-feet-by-three-feet space.

I had my son, and got ready to start writing. I wrote a few scenes, but nothing felt right. And then I started sleeping too much, until I got hospitalised. I was awake just to work before that. When I was in hospital, my hands swelled up too much to hold a book. I had the Half-Blood Prince on the bedside table, and I couldn't hold it. I hated hospital. I tried to storyboard, but Lamb and Carter had left me. It took until my transfer, until about four days of plasmapheresis, until I could hold a book. My friend Bethan sent me some sweets, and her mum (who used to work with my mum, which is how we met. I was three and she was two) had sent me a book to read. Not my usual style, but I was desperate for something normal. I consumed that book.

I got home, and realised just how sick I'd been when I got exhausted just getting out of bed. I couldn't understand anyone. So, me being me, I picked up a book. And life got a little easier. I got more books. I spent so much of my savings filling the craving I suddenly had to read, more books, more YA stories, just more. I turned back to Uprooted, rewrote my notes (we moved house when my son was three months, about nine before I got sick, and my notes were still packed) from what I remembered. I started writing. I wrote nearly three books. I sent the first one off to agents. No go. I re-read, and got bored. I understood what the problem was. I wrote it too soon after the TTP. My language had to develop more, I had to stop being so emo about what had happened. Lambrini's voice alone stilted the storyline. Seriously, she was so unaware of so many things, and I was trying to write around too much. I gave Carter a voice, and he just repaired so much damage for me, in the book and in my outlook. For me, Carter is the backbone of the story, just because of that change and what it represents to me.

I started whoring this version out to my friends, like Sammie (she has to be first, it's because of her I do this now), and Cat, and Kelly, and Lydia. I learned about Beta readers, and the names of things like parentheticals and definite articles, and therefore understood better why the first version didn't work. I put this version onto the other blog I have, connected to this one, and took advantage of Jenny Trout's beta reader system. The link to the first chapter is the link I put for my homepage on things like facebook, twitter, goodreads, and it's introduced me to people like Milou and Tallie.

I was thinking about writing the other day, and my attitude to it. It's not like it was when Sammie showed me a fanfic, when it was fun and a giggle and you'd do things like write your friend getting the famous guy. It goes deeper than that for me, because of what I almost lost. Guys, I'm brain damaged, I'm facing a future where I will get dementia. Not maybe, definitely. I need to do it, like I need to breathe, like I need to eat, like I need to sleep. Writing was part of my recovery, part of my therapy, it's how I understand big concepts and small gestures. I may never be published, or never published professionally anyway. And that's fine. But I will never stop writing, because it's part of me. It makes up too much of who I am. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I'm not a writer because I'm famous (I'm not) or successful (I work in a McDonald's) or personable (I have a lot of social anxiety, which I'm too scared to express. Like, I need to get my haircut, but I still haven't grown the balls to walk into a hairdressers. I said it a few months ago in another post and I haven't gone in the interim), I'm a writer because I don't know what else to be. I'm a writer like I'm brunette, like I love Harry Potter, like I'm typing on my laptop right now. I'm a writer ... because I'm a writer.

Do you know what scared me most when I was laying dying in the hospital? That I hadn't finished Lamb and Carter's story. I was terrified for my son more, of course, but my parents are not so callous as to leave him to his own devices or put him up for adoption, and they told me after that they were preparing to fight his father for custody if the worst happened. But no one knew Uprooted as thoroughly as I do. Even in either sets of notes - and the two differ a lot, like in the first draft it was the Evans twins who didn't get along, Carter and Curtis were BFF's - I hadn't put in my secrets, the twists I wanted in there at the very end. I don't know if this worry makes me sick or what, I don't even know if it's common. But it scared me anyway.

I know my grammar still isn't perfect, I write in streams of consciousness and syntax goes out of the window that way. I know I do typos and go off on tangents and introduce new topics horribly. But stick with me, because I am working my ass off, more than anyone can ever imagine, and I will get better at it. I will improve.

Siobhan's Sporking: Billy and Me, Chapter 20

Chapter twenty makes me a little bit happy. I was cheering so hard for Billy in this chapter, but if you're in any way sympathetic to Sophie, like a lot of reviewers were, then he might seem like a major dickwad. You'll see what I mean by the end of this post.

The chapter starts with Sophie talking about the next phase of filming, which are 'the first in a long line of love scenes' so hey, guess what the overriding theme of this chapter is? It's all getting pissy because Billy has to snog someone else! I think reality just slapped Sophie in the face, but to help it along - Sophie, do you realise that the house and the flash car and the nice clothes and yummy food and eons of free time are all due to him getting paid to make out with other girls and he is essentially a legal rent boy? - I'd like to think I'm putting some good out into the world, there. Or you know, keeping her morals in line.

So, Sophie spots the call sheet which has been left in Billy's dressing room for the next day, so thanks for catching up to the rest of us in correct terminology. Billy notices her sighing, which makes me think she's sat there doing it over and over again for effect, and he comes over to look. He realises exactly why she's sighing, so cue an emo-loaded conversation. It starts as eloquently as ever:

"Ah ..." he says, rubbing the sides of my arms.
"Ah, indeed," I nod, turning to face him.
"I know I've said that I want you there, but I'm not going to force you to sit and watch it if you're not comfortable."
"Well, it's not going to be the most wonderful day of my existence, that's for sure."

Because, even though this is Billy's job for which he gets an obscene amount of money? This is all about Sophie's feelings. I actually really like Billy in this conversation, because she's her typical neurotic self, and he's taking the time to sympathise, but to also give his side of how it feels. Sorry to shove so much quotage at you in such a short space of time, but:

"Mine neither. I'm pretty nervous about it," he says, fiddling with my hands.
"Why?"
"Despite what you might think, it's not something I'm used to."

That was actually really sweet to me. Like, he's saying he's insecure about what he has to do, and he's afraid of how it will come across and is he even a good enough actor to pull it off? And Sophie seems to realise that Billy has feelings at the same time as he says this. I can't even, guys. They're in a relationship, but it's only now that she considers Billy's thoughts and feelings? Wow. Maybe this is why I'm single.

They emo some more about whether or not Sophie should be there when Billy's having to shoot these love scenes. I can't even believe it's up for debate with everything that's been in the book so far. She should not be there, she can't take it and Billy's a melt if he thinks for a second it's a good idea. But since in this whole scenario I'm the only one with common sense, of course she's going.

Oh, and there's a line that makes me really mad. Billy starts raving about how he doesn't know how he'd cope in Sophie's position. Which is what, exactly? That makes me think he is doing the dirty on her at work. She makes a cute little joke about how she doesn't plan on rolling around in bed half-naked with another guy any time soon and I die inside. Bitch, you're confusing your reality for his work AGAIN. Why did Giovanna word-replace Tom's job for 'actor'? Because this shit is driving me to the mental hospital at the end of my road, for sure (true story, I live near a facility). But anyway, they agree Sophie is going to be there ... hell, just look at what they say:

"I'll come and watch ... I want to support you and be there for you. I'm trying my best not to turn this into some weird thing between us."
"I know you are, and I admire you for that," he says, taking my hand and kissing the back of it.

That's some bad foreshadowing. This is Sophie, this will turn into something weird between them. And like fuck she's thinking of supporting him. The dialogue is so stilted too, and that kiss-on-the-back-of-the-hand bullshit? The fuck is that?

Anyway, the scene ends in the usual inappropriate manner. Judith - hit list girl number one - knocks on the door calling out about how she's a granny who needs to see Billy naked. Wow.

The next section starts with them walking onto set the next day, and Sophie's emoing like crazy about how she'll deal with this. Rather than hit myself on the head over this bullshit, every time something like this comes up, I'm just going to put cute dog pictures in.

 

Look at the adowable puppies in the basket, n'awwwwwwh!

Sophie describes the set and having watched a LOT of supernatural (like seriously, five and a half seasons in about three weeks) lately, it sounds like every dodgy motel the guys stay in. Except Day-Z, but it's not some sit-com remake created by Gabriel ... I digress.

She then starts saying how the scene they're shooting should be taking place on a closed set to allow the actors some modesty, but she's Billy Buskin's girlfriend, bitch, she can be there if she wants. No, seriously, Billy got permision - from Heidi as well as the director - for Sophie to sit in on a closed set.

 

He'sh sho fluffy and gwumpy! Seriously, it's the cute fluffster or sheer rage. Sophie finally, finally thinks of what it must be like for Heidi, but in that kind of 'well, I checked those boxes of empathy' kind of a way. She gets a paragraph of consideration, and that's it. Actually, she gets half a paragraph of empathy for the fact that her ex's girlfriend will be seeing her tits and then Sophie gets right back to bashing Heidi. Because Heidi's being a sweet girl to the director, but the other actors can just jog on. Maybe, since this is a closed set with only a few of the techies and one other actor, Heidi is finding it difficult to be in the room with Billy and his highly-strung girlfriend and is therefore talking to other, more neutral, people.

 

Needed. Needed so much. I am so Team Heidi right now. And that puppy looks like Text From Dog's friend ... yeah.

We get two more paragraphs on the kind of bitch that Heidi must be based solely on what Sophie has seen, and how Sophie should be intimidated by Heidi's vast beauty but she's not because Heidi has an attitude problem. Oh, Sophie, did you never hear this one:

 

Or, as psychologists would say ... PROJECTION!

So Billy gets dragged straight onto set and Sophie notes the seriousness of his handler, but the moment still gets dragged off point by Billy telling her he loves her. Oh, I get why, he's trying to reassure her that whatever she's about to witness, it's not Billy doing it, it's Stan *pulls fingers together as she drags her hand down in front of her face*. But he winks as well and that really kills the mood for me.

Sophie sits by the monitor, criticising the director for wearing the same clothes for a week as she tries to listen in on the directions he's whispering to Billy and Heidi. She's not happy though, because Billy's arms are crossed and that means he's uncomfortable.

 

I cross my arms in serious situations, it's not a sign that you're uncomfortable, it's a sign that you're holding back on the flippant side of your personality so that you can give the correct respect to the situation. Every action has more than one connotation, bitch.

 

There's a section break just before the action, though I'm not sure why. Maybe Giovanna sucks at transitions? It's also the most cringe-worthy section because ... look, Giovanna, you cannot write erotica. Did you take lessons from E. L. James? Because she's bad. Really bad. Jenny Trout/Abigail Barnette, now there's a great erotica writer (I'm still not into erotica though ... but I love The Boss for the characterisation ... I digress).

So the morning doesn't go smoothly, apparently. Mainly because with their touching, writhing and licking (which actually causes my heart to shrivel up painfully like a prune), they aren't comfortable and appear awkward and clumsy on screen. Sophie's a critic now. But I did note how the first way the morning wasn't going smoothly was because of Sophie's interpretation of the action in front of her, rather than the way Billy and Heidi might be feeling.

It just carries on from there, the Sophie emo and her hurt feelings and the dry description of the real action. I just ... I can't ... here, you read this shit for once:

It's been gut-wrenching to watch, and at times I have had to look away, preferring not to watch as the person I love gets his ear nibbled by this vixen woman, who has her pert boobs on display, or watch him slide his way up her. Surprisingly, I've managed to hold it together. So far.

 

One puppy wasn't enough. And I love Siberian Huskies. Shit, if this gets really bad, we might have to have a clip of the 'I love you' dog.

Apparently the director, Max, isn't happy either, but he's more upset about the lack of chemistry between his two stars. He's trying different tacks, but not the best one, which would be to kick the distracting girlfriend out. We get a really shitty example about how Max is losing it.

"CUT! This isn't working!" screams Max, as he walks towards Billy and Heidi, holding his hands in the air in desperation. "It needs something more. It needs to be sexier. Guys, come on, you're not giving it to me. This is setting the tone for what's to come. Stan is meant to be a sex god, so play with her, use her, tease her. Manipulate her body like you're the master of it. Megan is gagging for it. She wants him and she wants him now. She's got to show him what she's got, entice him with her body. They're wild. Wild! You're both too in your heads, it needs to be all about the physical,"

He goes on some more, but I'm leaving it there. I have never read a more dispassionate rant before. I write them dude! Shall we look through my writing for one of the times Carter goes off on one (it's always Carter, crazy boy), when he was talking to Thomas in the first story, which is on my other blog:

'Anyway, it shouldn't matter, Car. You want her and she wants you, it should be that simple.'
'It's not that simple for you, is it?' I challenged him, pissed off that he was being so damn flippant about it.
'Nice try, Carter.'
'I'm just saying, you're saying all this crap about how nothing else matters, but if it was that simple, you and your boyfriend would just come out with it. And you don't, you hide behind all these stupid excuses and then think you can dole out all this hippie advice. Maybe I don't wanna hear it.'
'My situation is nothing like yours. I'm just trying to give you a little perspective.'

Just a few points I want to make - Carter let Thomas talk back, to put in valid arguments he could spring off of. Yeah, it doesn't seem like Thomas is saying much, but he's actually pointing out that Carter can't turn around and lay his problems at Thomas' feet, he has to man up and deal with his situation. And Carter then turns around and tells him exactly, and concisely, why he thinks that's complete horseshit. Which is how most people do rants. They need to feed off other people's reactions, but all we get in this is some kind of dictator. A good director would try to get into Billy and Heidi's heads, find out what's making this scene so difficult for them.

Also, the language Sophie used seems more like a how-to book rather than dialogue. I know it's not correct grammar, but speech is different, and sticking to the rules leads to awkward dialogues and monologues. Like, further down my scene, Thomas takes the chance to rant himself. He's a lot more uptight that Carter (which is saying something) so you'd think it'd work better with Sophie's scenario, but:

'This is why I knew you wouldn't get it, Carter. Let go of the past sometime, maybe?'
'Let go of the past? Are you for freaking real? Why not make a pass at Matt, I used to love the atomic wedgies, you could see why he called them his speciality.'
'Carter-'
'Or hey, Brett or Noah! Swirly kings.'
'I get it, okay? And no, I didn't enjoy having my head stuffed down a flushing toilet either, but that doesn't mean I'm going to use the vitriol against them forever after. People change, Carter. It can be as simple as that.'
I didn't bother answering that.
'And Ashley has changed, just try talking to him once. Or not, if you're really still offended that he did shut us in lockers. I mean, you never tried to exact revenge or anything, did you? Never did anything wrong in middle school, never fought back, just kept being targeted by the big bad jocks.'
'You're right, people do change, because right now you're acting like a dick.'

Sorry for the big quotage of my own work. But there's one more point I want to make in that scene - there's a break in the rantage where there isn't a spoken reaction from Carter. It's written in first-person, so it's how Carter views the situation. The break is for an internal reaction. Go back and read that director rant, and tell me where we see Billy or Heidi, or even Sophie reacting. The bit I broke off on? It's where the director pounds his fist in his hand and then carries on talking. It took until that point for her to break.

My point is, it's so fricking unrealistic. And now I need to do this:

 

I used to be all about Dalmatians.

Anyway, back on point. So Billy and Heidi trade a look as the director makes suggestions like 'could you suck on her nipple or something' and my God, I have to fan myself pretty briskly, I'm so turned on. Sophie interprets this look as them recognising the request 'as ridiculous'. Personally, I think they're silently communicating whether or not they could do it effectively, and then agreeing to just try it.

Sophie's emo is threatening to kill me. I hate her so, so much.

I know in Billy's earlier scenes I've been highly sensitive to the smallest glances from one of the girls, but this is bordering on the insane. It's too much to ask these two people, who are actors, to do. They play characters, yes, but their bodies are their own.

Then they should go on fucking radio. Since you know, acting on TV and films is a visual, physical thing and that includes bodies. But Sophie thinks millions would agree with her. I must be one in a million.

The director keeps trying to talk them around, still without getting their feedback to best speed up the process, and then they finally start trying to act again. And there's a really telling bit to me next:

"It's fine by me," huffs Heidi, as she gets back into her starting position on the bed, pushing her hair over her shoulders, sticking out her breasts.

Now, we're meant to think with that last action that Heidi is a whore, but it's the context of what she says and why that intrigues me. She's obviously trying to get the chemistry going, she's comfortable in her role in Billy's life and how Sophie fits in, and she just wants to get the scene done. She's getting frustrated that she's making the effort and it's still not going anywhere. So what does that equate to? Billy. Billy's the one fudging the scene, because Sophie's so in his fucking head that every time he does what he's scripted to do, he second guesses himself because of Sophie. He should have flat out told her to fuck off on this shoot. I bet it looks a little something like this so far:

 

lol, the episode where they enter an alternate reality where they're actors on a show called Supernatural ... I love parody. Dean's so wooden and Sam has no idea what he's doing ... muchlols.

Anyway, so Billy hesitates, looking on the floor, trying to blank out Sophie, and then he agrees. And Sophie steals my fucking line.

"We can try that," I hear him mutter.
Something in me dies.

I think she's joined me in hell. Except, mine is worse, because I'm making myself go through this and I don't have to. Wait, no, shit, it's the exact same set up for her. Okay, it's worse for me because she is STILL MAKING THIS ABOUT HER:

I look around helplessly as they start to film the shot again, not able to believe that I'm actually about to witness this.
No one notices me.
Everyone is wrapped up in the scene, all busy doing their jobs.

 

Do you know when, on a film set, it's a problem to be ignored? WHEN YOU'RE THE FUCKING DIRECTOR!

/rage. We get some indepth shit about what Billy's doing to Heidi, and I call incorrect, it's what Stan is doing to Megan. You have to learn to characterise. I'm glazing over it, because it's yet more dryrotica and I don't want to chafe. So anyway, in the dryrotica, Billy starts sucking Heidi's tit, and then a wailing sound makes them call cut.

Oh, hush, you saw it as soon as they read the call sheet in the first paragraph. She totally Bella's it though.

On the monitor, Billy looks up in shock, as confusion and anger flicker across his face. People start looking in my direction, which is when I realise the sound is coming from me. I cover my mouth to stop it, frozen to the spot as everyone glares in my direction.
In shock, I run from the room.

On the plus side, Sophie, everyone paid attention to you then. Billy's hot on her heels as she heads for his trailer, although personally I think he should get the scene done first and then appease her psychobitchness. He immediately turns into my hero though, asking her just what in the fuck she was doing. And I can't stomach the response.

"That's the same question I've been asking myself, Billy, 'what was that?' " I ask, flinging my arm in the direction of the studio. "Don't worry, I'm going - so you can carry on without interruption from your stupid girlfriend," I blurt, getting my coat and bag from the sofa.

 

I don't have to rant about why Sophie is stupid, do I? We all know why it's completely obtuse of her to be so up in arms about a scene an actor has to do. He's done all the prep he can to make sure she knows this is kosher, but she still clings to this idea that should Billy do something for work, he's emotionally involved. Does she actually think he's that terrible an actor? But Billy stays on point of awesome.

"What do you want me to do? I can't just ignore the director. Do you want me to quit? Is that it?" Billy shouts. "Do you want me to just walk away because you feel uncomfortable?"

Apart from the fact that there's no caps or exclamations, so it's hard to buy that Billy is yelling ... beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. See my above comments on ranting, because at least Billy gets it. Sophie acts like it's abominable that Billy could think she was in the wrong. Fucking Mary Sue. Billy's not done yet ... it's like a Dean Winchester Is Self-Righteous But Also Right rant, and those always get me in the girl bits.

"I have done everything I can to make you feel welcome. I have spent hours talking you through every little detail, making sure you feel included and a part of this whole thing."
"I know ..."
"Hours when I should've been getting to know everyone so that it's not awkward when we're on set together."
"I've never said you couldn't spend time with them."
"No, you haven't, but any time I do spend with them you make me feel bad about it. I can feel you seething, bubbling away the minute one of the girls comes over to me."
"I don't do that."
"Any girl I chat to, straight away you're saying they fancy me - making everything awkward because I don't want you to think I'm egging them on in some way."
"I've never stopped you talking to anyone ..."
"But you have! Can't you see that?"

I just ... it's the best scene in the book. The best bit. Guys, this is great writing, Giovanna can do arguments well. Why is she shying away from her actual talent?

Do you know what I think it is? And it's sad, but I think these were editors notes. These are the questions the editor brought up 'wouldn't Billy question Sophie, wouldn't he feel like Sophie is stopping him from bonding with his workmates and making him feel under pressure?' and Giovanna took the notes and turned it into this. But Sophie still has to be Right and Billy still has to be Wrong. Like a little bit later in the same argument:

"Overly sensitive? Billy, you had another woman's nipple in your mouth!"
"And?"
"And?" I scream back at him, unable to see how he can't comprehend where that might be a problem. "Your ex-girlfriend's nipple? Do you really not see what's wrong with that?"
"It's work!"
"It's disgusting!"

This is the bit where a lot of reviewers have said Billy is a jerk, but I don't agree. He's been so patient about this, he told her what the role meant, shared with her his worries about working with Heidi, prepped her for the work so that she knew he was doing it per script, and not because he got his rocks off that way. And yet she still makes it personal, she still applies reality to the fiction and makes it far creepier than it is. And I'm sorry, this isn't about women's rights. If Sophie was up in arms about how both Heidi and Billy were being exploited and the film industry was depraved I would back her one hundred percent. But it's about his previous connection to her co-star. Sophie is crossing a line.

After all he's done, the work he's put into her ...

"You could've thought how that might affect me and realize that asking someone to do something like that is far from normal, it's sick, and you're stupid for going along without questioning it. For just doing it because the director told you to. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"
"But I was acting. That's what I do."
"Then you're pathetic," I spit.

I've said it before, I'll say it again. I fucking hate Sophie. Puppies aren't going to cut it this time.

 

 

 

Better.

So Sophie stalks out of the trailer and off the lot. And she takes the cake by looking behind her about five seconds later and being affronted when Billy doesn't follow her out. Her phone starts ringing and she thinks maybe that's Billy, but it's not, it's Molly. For once, she decides to end the call and not complain to Molly, but not for any good reason. She doesn't want to hear Molly say 'I told you so'. But Sophie is still in the right, honest!

She then starts emoing about whether she's to blame or not, and was she really so paranoid and giving the other girls a hard time? And I'm sat here thinking 'do you read over what you write?' because clearly not, I've been saying about this shit since what, chapter four?

Holly then appears, you know, the bitch who flirts with Billy because nothing phases her? And she says how she heard what happened from Judith, so Sophie's done great making herself the topic of gossip - I thought this was a major problem for Sophie? - but Sophie doesn't seem to think anything of it, she just tells Holly she's not fine but smiles. I'm pretty sure she's full-on crazy. Holly tries to empathise and sympathise and Sophie eats that shit up. Holly then tells Sophie how much Billy loves her -

You know what, I'm getting on my soapbox about this. She is telling-not-showing this apparent love as much as Meyer does. All I hear about this great love is what other characters tell Sophie exists. All I see when they interact is two near-strangers trying to convince themselves they're in something big. I have a real problem with the word love being banded about. I've almost written two full novels, and not one character has sincerely turned to another character and professed their love to them. They may have said it in a different context, like say, when Lamb got Carter something he wanted for his birthday, he may have said it the way I do over my friend Cat letting me talk her ear off about Supernatural (her fiance is making her watch. Catty, marry him!). The adults in the story might say they love each other, the ones who are married. But the teenagers? No. Because you know what? Love is a big deal. A huge deal. And these eejits have been declaring it to each other through others since chapter four. But you know what? You know fucking what? When my characters finally talk of love ... they're damn well going to have expressed it enough to back it up. And for those who have read, Foster hasn't even said it to Abbi, and they're my high school sweethearts in the story. They're for life, and it's almost a year into the story and they haven't said it, in what's been written and in my head. And they won't for a while.

Fuck anyone who says love this soon into a relationship. I hate you all. You're shallow and superficial and don't know true love.

Urgh, I hate Holly's peptalk. She's gone from being competition to being Sophie's moral crutch, since she wouldn't pick up on Molly.

"I reckon that might be why Heidi has been such a sourpuss from day one."
"Do you think?"
"Definitely. Think about it, she's working with an ex ... what's worse than working with an ex? Working with an ex who doesn't want you."

Shut your mouth Holly, Sophie's entire problem is that she thinks Billy does want her, because she has no self-esteem and must build her ego with sycophants like you.

Holly says maybe Billy can't admit he's wrong until he's done the scene and I'm gobsmacked that a professional actress would take that side. Holly invites Sophie back on the set, but Sophie says no. Holly says, just to get a ride home? Sophie says no. Holly gets the message, and says she'll ask Billy's gopher to send a car outside the lot where she is so that she can go home. Sophie agrees, and her latest minion runs away to do her bidding.

Hi, I'm Holly. Sophie is Gru.

That's the end of the chapter. I need a drink.

It's times like this I hate TTP the most.

So, if you don't know me personally by now, you may have picked up in these blog posts the type of person I am. I may not be beautiful, or particularly feminine, or the nicest person on the planet. But I think a lot, and I have a lot of determination, and useless general knowledge, and I'm kinda principled even if those principles may not seem cohesive. Like, why would I bitch in my recaps about Sophie ditching work to be little better than a socialite when I also bitch about my work? The main issue there being I bitch a lot (no, really!) and also, I wouldn't act without another plan.

What's my point right? Don't worry, I'm not having a self-esteem issue and doing a public motivational speech to myself, at least, not in that sense.

I got sent home from work today. I've never had that, not in the 8 years I've worked there. I was feeling hot, and dizzy, and nauseous, and disoriented. I was in a position where I had to communicate with a lot of people at once ... that's kind of hard to cope with. Still, I didn't feel good about leaving, even if I knew that's what I needed.

That's my conflict right now. Has been for a while actually. The more I find out about my illness, the more research that's done as time goes by ... I'm in the wrong place. But I'm not. Like, for the person I am, this job makes sense. It's physically and mentally demanding and there's always a challenge. I have to think on my feet, and own my mistakes. I eat that shit up. But every so often - and I think now is one of those times, and my boss called it too when he sent me home - it's like I hit a TTP wall. Like, my body is saying, "you can't do this anymore, you can't be you all the time anymore, you have to stop." And then my mind races but there's nothing there and I'm tired but I can't sleep, and I'm rushing but it's like running through quicksand. There's recent research from Arkansas that says TTP is just the start of needing long-term care. Five years ago, my doctors told me it wasn't a genetic thing, but the money we raised on the bridgathon is being put towards a genetic tracer thing.

Basically ... I think I might have to give up being a manager so I can get access to better hours. But the notion of a demotion makes me sick, like it was all for nothing, or I failed ... I'm not good with either concept. But I can't carry on being so up-and-down with this whole thing.

I really dislike reality right now.

Sioban's Sporking: Billy and Me, Chapter 19

I'm back. I've read this chapter once already, and I want a drink. Like, bad. It's Billy's first day on the set of the film so of course there's plenty of time for Sophie Emo. I'm pretty sure this is supposed to be like, Giovanna's interpretation of the time Tom did that one music video/meet'n'greet/interaction with any other girl not related to him. I feel like I'm getting more and more cynical the more I read about Sophie and Billy. Sad times.

The chapter starts with Sophie blabbing on about Billy being in rehearsals. She's clearly not been allowed in there, and it's blatantly eating her up inside. I have never seen a more obvious bunny boiler outside of a horror story:

I don't ask too many questions when he first comes through the door (I don't want him to know I'm trying to size up the situation), but when we're sitting down for dinner a little later I try to delicately ask a few questions about the cast. Trying to prise information out of him without making it known that I'm worried the girls are maneaters, ready to pounce on my man at the first opportunity they're given.

Guys, I didn't write that. Those words are in the book, verbatim. If I was seeing someone like that, I would be scared to go to sleep. They've been dating for a few months at best. It's frighteningly co-dependent. The next sentence makes it even creepier:

"So, what's everybody like?" I ask innocently, twirling my spaghetti round my fork.

Mm-hmm, she's all nonchalant while she plans how best to skin the bitches alive, I'm sure. Billy doesn't get that she's being blatantly two-faced and chats like she actually gives a rats ass that he makes friends easily. He blabs on about wanting to learn something on the guitar once they've finished filming and sounds more like Tom than ever. Sophie takes the opportunity to wax lyrical about Billy's many talents, and it sounds a lot like Giovanna is back to fapping over her husband publicly again.

Sophie eventually goes back to digging for information about the other girls on set, because she didn't give a flying fuck about the rest of the band cast, and Billy immediately asks about the extras who are cast as groupies, rather than you know, the ex-girlfriend who's playing opposite him. Maybe he's more switched on to her bunny boiling ways than I first thought, but not enough to save him. Sophie forces him to tell her all their names and he blanks on two. Clue Sophie - these are the two he's potentially fucking. I hate this conversation so much:

" ... this way, when we get on set we'll just be able to bask out scenes easily rather than having to be wary of upsetting each other."
"Right ..."
"They're looking forward to meeting you."
"Really? I thought you didn't get a chance to speak much?"
"We didn't, but you're always on my mind," he says, with a laugh and a wink.
It's good to know Billy's been talking about me, that I'm not banished from his mind the moment he steps into a room full of girls.

I've said it before, I'll say it again.

 

 

She says she wonders if he's lying and it's really because someone's been getting too close for comfort. Oh, Giovanna, with your placing Mcfly song titles in your published fanfic!

So, it turns out the ex-girlfriend is being off, not just with Billy but with everyone. And instead of sympathising that the girl must be going through some shit that she's not talking to anyone about and being friendly despite that, they bitch about how difficult she's making it for everyone else. And even worse, Sophie says how happy she is that there's a barrier between them, so they don't reminisce about the old days and end up in bed together, or some shit. God, I hate Sophie.

There's a section break, that cuts to the first day and we get a laundry list of turning up on the set of the film, complete with slobby clothes and sleeping in the pickup car that came at five. It takes two pages for Billy's bitch the Second Assistant Director to show up and introduce himself and make the point that he's there to lick Billy's shoes. But I am grateful just to get away from Sophie's whinefest for two seconds. Even if it does delve into the slightly homoerotic:

"He does an awful job," mocks Billy.
"Oi!" laughs Stephen as he playfully punches Billy in the arm.
"See? If I'm bruised the make-up ladies are going to be so mad at you!"
"You're such a  peach."

The fuck does anyone care about the makeup ladies? I'd be pissed if someone bruised me. Start with number one. Also, the peach thing, is so fucking gay. The whole damn thing is gay, they get a huge breakfast, and sit on the sofa watching TV. I know that happens in real life, but in a book, if you dedicate half a page, you're going to make your readers want to tear their eyes out. Just because Meyer won the fucking lottery doing douchebag moves like that it doesn't mean anyone else is going to score the same way.

Billy goes off to make up with more homoerotic innuendo, and Sophie carries on watching shit TV until someone comes up to Billy's trailer singing his name. The whore. When she gets into the trailer, and sees Sophie sitting there, the girl gets confused and Sophie gets pissy. I mean, how dare she be so happy to see Billy, and all? Sophie introduces herself and the girl is like 'riiiiight, Billy's girlfriend!' and seems just like those actresses in the stage play to me. Brilliant characterisation there, Giovanna. The girl introduces herself as Holly just before Billy comes back, and then they start flirting, in front of Sophie. Although, I'm not buying that interpretation, since Sophie's view is clearly skewed by the steam coming out of her pot.

They blab for ages, I'm bored. As soon as Holly goes, Sophie turns on her 'should I kill this woman' setting and asks all about Holly, in the context of 'so how well do you know her?' and I am so Goddamn tired of this bint now. She also starts talking like an asshole, because no twenty-six year old on the planet would have dialogue like this:

"You seem quite close."
"Not really, I probably speak to her a bit more than the other girls, that's all. They get a bit funny about just coming over and talking to me, whereas Holly doesn't seem fazed by anything."
"I think she might have a bit of a thing for you."
"Nah! Don't be daft," he says, as he takes his shoes off and sits back down on the sofa beside me.
"She seems quite smitten."

Oh my fucking God, get over yourself already! I hate this bitch's insecurities. And who talks like that, who? It should be more like:

"You seem close?"
"What, me and Holly? Yeah, I guess. She doesn't seem as scared to come talk to me as the other girls on set. I don't think nothing scares her."
"I think she fancies you."
"Don't be an idiot, and anyway, I'm with you aren't I?"
"She acts like she wants you."
"Well, I want you, but I don't have a fucking clue why right now."

I nail dialogue.

So we get someone else banging on the door before Sophie can go completely Glenn Close, and it's the bird who gets to put clothes on Billy. Well done for forcing yourself to the top of Sophie's hit list, Judith, even if your name implies you're old enough to be his mother. I mean, Daniel Radcliffe lost it to a fifty-year-old, right? That sort of shit happens.

I want to show you some accidentally funny dialogue now. It's Judith blabbing in her intro speech as she spots Sophie. I almost smiled at it:

" Ah, yes, someone said you had company," she says, looking at me. "That's a good idea. There's so much waiting around on these jobs. It can get quite lethargic."

So perk yourself up with a quickie! Billy asks for her name again after about five seconds, just so we know that Judith is dead girl number one, and then we get the section break. The next part is of them going on set, and Giovanna tries to describe it ... look, I've been to the Harry Potter studio tour. Twice. I know what to expect, and it's far more fascinating that the way it's being described here. I will spare you most of the shit, except for this little nugget:

Bizarrely, it's colder than I thought it would be, in both temperature and atmosphere.

Muchlols. It's a huge warehouse, they're not going to have space heaters all over set, they haven't got a huge load of ovens ... when my McDonald's loses power, the temperature drops quick because we rely on the 300 degrees C equipment we have for heat.

After a couple of paragraphs about the actual set, we get another entire paragraph about how everyone's drinking tea. Changed my life, that whole section. Sophie then starts describing the scene being shot that day, and I swear it's like she's never been in a club or seen a sixties documentary in her lifetime.

With nearly all of the actors in it, it's meant to be full of energy and excitement, like one big wild party. From what I can see of the set from where we're stood, the club has red leather sofas lining the mirrored walls with matching stools at the while bar, and black-and-white tiles patterning the floor. It sounds as though it should all look gorgeous, but it actually looks like it could do with a wash: the floor has been streaked with dirt and the furniture has been battered and worn in, making it all appear dark and grimy, adding to the rock and roll vibe the designers have been creating.

Maybe it's because Giovanna's only really ever been backstage at Hammersmith or Wembley? I don't know. Or that's how she felt about The Boat That Rocked. I'd hate to see her at the Underworld.

Sophie gets told - by Billy - not to go wandering into shot, although how people manage that when there's you know, giant cameras and white spots everywhere is beyond me. And then Billy's ex-girlfriend shows up, and Sophie spends forever having an orgasm over this girl. Absolutely nothing happens, so Sophie asks if that means she's still being 'off' and Billy says yes. He hasn't even fucking talked to her! But then the director calls for attention, and we get more shit about tea.

There's a section break, in which we hear even more about how boring film sets are and how in the way Sophie is but Goddammit, she is not going back to the trailer, because Billy is flirting with everyone and she wants to keep an eye on him.

I have a major issue with this. I mean, I've moaned and complained about how much of a bunny boiler Sophie is, but she does make a good point that he shouldn't be so flirty, even if she's a witness to it. There's being friendly, and there's being flirty, and there should be a segregation of the two when you're in a relationship. Billy's being a dick. It's just yet more proof that these two together are a hideous, hideous idea. Sophie's actually pretty introspective about this, admitting that it's part of the reason why she has a problem with other women being near 'her man' but she's not smart enough to speak up for herself or realise that this is going to be a continuous problem. And she immediately goes back on all of it from a few moves of Billy's:

In his defence, Billy has pointed me out to a few of the girls, blowing kisses in my direction in a sickeningly sweet, yet cute, way - so he isn't acting like I don't exist. But what is he like when I'm not around if he's like this when I am?

I don't understand her punctuation usage here by the way. She opened a parenthetical, but didn't close it? Weird. But hey, I guess writing is just vomiting words on a page and hoping to fuck they make sense, right? Punctuation's for pussies.

Ugh, why do these chapters feel like they will never end? Sophie goes back to the trailer in the afternoon as Billy gets a makeup touch up, and she calls her mum to tell her, and us by proxy, about the nothing that is happening on the set. Thanks for the waste of words. You wanna share my torture with me?

"I don't know how you can watch it, love. I wouldn't be able to."
"Billy's asked me to," I say, although now I'm doubting if it's sucj a good idea to watch after all, especially knowing how much it affected me just seeing him interact with the girls earlier.
"You're a stronger woman that me, If I'd had to watch anyone so much as look at your dad in the wrong way I'd have given them what for."

I don't think any women are looking twice at the guy who brings his buddies along on dates. Or if they are, they totally love fat, sweaty guys who are stuck on Star Trek and their X boxes. Anyway, Sophie and her mum start gassing about Colin, the man who pulled Sophie's mum out of depression, and I'm trying real hard with this book. So hard, but it still numbs my brain.

We get an awesome week-long time jump when the phone conversation finishes, and Sophie's back on what Billy thinks of the other girls, and which one he fancies, even if Sophie wasn't there. Billy takes like, two pages to get slightly irritated with all her shit. He makes a half-assed attempt to make her see reality, and then the chapter ends, with these two yahoos still thinking they're meant to be together.

But there's 25% left to go of this book. A quarter left. We can do it ... right?

Random general update

It's random because there won't be much cohesion in the following points:

-I did an overnight last night, 11pm - 8am. I'm back in at five. Apparently, it's not illegal because it's shift work. Although, I may have to ask my friends who work in offices if they're ever kept until 10pm and expected back in at 9am next morning. I'm thinking not.

-I fucking love Supernatural. Looking back, I remember seeing ads for it when it first came on sky living, and I wanted to watch, but we are not a sky living household. We're a 'CI or TLC if there's nothing on the main channels and the boy has gone to bed' household. Seriously, murderous women and cake boss, Supernatural doesn't quite fit in. Anyway, I'm grateful to Mervin, Cat and Ama for mentioning it lots lately and convincing me to try it. So worth it. I've just watched season three in three days (only fifteen episodes, but during overnights, so potentially impressive, right?) only five more until I'm all caught up, ready for when season nine starts up. Dean Winchester is like, my ideal husband. Awesome car (60's Chevy?!), great taste in music, my sort of humour, drop dead gorgeous ... Jensen Ackles isn't half bad either lol.

-I bought this new punk rock album the other day. Most of my favourites are on it. Awesome album. Although, now I have smash mouth in my head ... It was 'Carry on my wayward son' for some reason yesterday ...

-I want chocolate.

-I can't sleep. I probably will drop off ... Just before I'm due to wake up. Tonight is going to suck.

-I take it back, what I said in a post a few days ago. Doing the bridgathon with my mamma. Need to make up my just giving page, right?

Siobhan's Sporking: Billy and Me, chapter 18

Wow. So I just looked at the word count/page count on my word document where I write this ... I have written 30,000 more words about Giovanna's first book than I've written on my second book. About 50 more pages. That's a little frightening.

So, chapter 18 *cracks knuckles* oy. It starts off with Billy telling Sophie she has to read his new script. Me being me, I guessed it was because he was showing off. But no, apparently, he wanted her to read it 'in context' so there were 'no surprises' when it came to the crunch, unlike with his stage play. Apparently, simulating oral sex can be a good surprise for your new girlfriend, but anything more, even from multi-camera where the physicalities are different to get the right angles ... yeah, that shit needs the Bunny Boiler to look it over. And probably veto anything where Billy wears less than a tee and shorts.

I hate this scene so much. Why can't Billy have the balls to stand up and say 'look, this is my job, and it's not like I can just throw coffee over the director if I don't like what he says to me, like you apparently can do in your job. Suck it, bitch.' No, no, he has to appease her. Dude is WHIPPED.

The dialogue still sucks by the way:

"I'm sorry. Just remember it's an amazing script with a brilliant director, who will film it in an artsy way. It's going to look more classy and less like porn."

"What?"

"Argh! See? I'm not good at explaining it," he moans, covering his eyes with his hands. "I just want you to think of it as more of a mechanical thing, rather than something with feelings involved. Just read it, please?"

I repeat. Whipped.

And I hate this thought about actors, that they can't separate their work lives from their real lives. That in day-to-day interactions they must be putting on an act with everyone, yet when it comes to filming or stage work, their true emotions get involved. It's not like doctors, who overanalyse everyone they know because their work is so intense and full on it's hard to get away from it. She's propagating a stereotype and I fucking hate that. Both my sisters got really into acting - one of them even tried out for Italia Conti - and I've never felt they were confusing a script with reality. Likewise, when I write a story, I'm not thinking 'gee, am I writing Crystal and Chloe into Fiesta at all?' because you know what? Only a fucking HACK would do that sort of shit. You can draw on real life, but only in an abstract way.

And Billy grew up acting. He should know this. It should not be a concern and if it is, then he is clearly with the wrong person. If he really thinks he's going to be fucking his co-worker, then his current relationship isn't working out and should be over. Likewise, if she can't trust him to do his job and not confuse fiction with reality then she should get out of dodge. It's so fucking immature.

I really need to de-rage. It's kinda hard with this book.

Anyway, so Sophie grudgingly agrees to read the script. Big reader, my left arse cheek. She should've read that script the second it came through the door, with squeals of 'free, unbound book!' like a certain loser I can think of would do (oh, hush, I used to re-read shampoo bottles in the bathroom if I couldn't remember to take a book in the toilet with me. She has freakin' gold in her house and only reads it with permission? I also once ignored my then-boyfriend when I went to his house so I could read my way through the few books he owned ... I do not buy this bullshit) and even worse, she sends Billy away so she can read without him watching her read. Again, a reader? Honey, you should already be in the pit, smelling the stale smell of sweat, beer and fags, uncomfortable and hot but bubbling inside with the anticipation of the band about to perform ... but no, you stay on the couch and focus on posing for your famous boyfriend.

I am still on this 'she's-not-a-reader' bit for the next couple of paragraphs, because she's still talking out of her arse:

I don't have to read very far into the script to find the first 'love' scene, in fact the film opens with one, and it makes me want to vomit.

She's definitely an A. Takes one to yadda, yadda, yadda. And I want to pause for a second. She can just read this script like a film? Really? I mean, it barely has any directions in it, it reads exactly like her fucking newspaper articles. Shall we google some script images?

 

No idea with what film that is, but notice the formatting? Also, on the day, what do actors work from?

 

A call sheet (hey, this one was Roswell, I loved the shit out of that show). Notice how much of either of those is actually scripted words? And how much is exposition on where the characters are positioned (which is actually blocking, which isn't always on the script, as we saw above)? And what does Giovanna write as the script? Well ...

APRIL, 1971, LONDON, ENGLAND

INT. STAN'S HOTEL ROOM

The door of a hotel room bashes open, in wades STAN BAR - A DANGEROUSLY SEXY ROCK STAR IN HIS LATE TWENTIES - with a woman - MEGAN REACH, EARLY TWENTIES - wrapped around his waist. He carries her into the room and slams the door behind them in haste. The pair grab at each other longingly, exploring each other's mouths, writing around in excitement.

Hey, fun fact, Giovanna's IMDB page lists her work on The Boat That Rocked, which is ... a film about a boat where a pirate radio played rock music, and rock stars hung out. Gee, I wonder where this shit came from. And really, is she throwing some kind of artistic licence into actual scripting? The above on its own? Acceptable stage direction. The next paragraph? It just described the 'writhing around in excitement' in exact detail.

So ... Sophie's definitely an A. Or at least a Gray:

I clench my jaw as I read through the rest of the script, each rub, lick, kiss and grind resonating through my brain, giving me a headache. I place it on the coffee table in front of me, resisting the urge to chuck it across the room, and grab the cushion next to me for comfort, hugging it to me tightly.

Oh, hey dangling participle, do you know what you just did? You just made Sophie put her headache on the coffee table, and want to chuck her headache across the room. Oh, I know 'it' was meant to reference the script, but intention doesn't mean diddly here, the headache is now a physical entity.

But back on point, why would a sexually-loaded script make her react so physically repulsed? Unless she was in the asexual spectrum, I really can't understand it. I mean, I said before I consider myself a Demi, and I would totally have the same sort of reaction to someone fondling the person I'd manage to commit myself to, because damn that would have taken me a lot to go out with them in the first place; but I'd understand the work aspect, and I can shut down my emotions so why wouldn't my actor boyfriend do the same? She's acting like sex is a dirty thing (which it kind of is) and that she's never done it. I just ... she doesn't make any sense to me. She's fucking repressed, for sure, but you'd think Billy gives it to her every now and again, since they share a bed and all, right? Does she equate sex to intimacy? Is that the problem? I genuinely want answers, because to me, her character is so conflicted.

Like, the next paragraph, she whinges some more about how she hates the 'detailed scenes' (yeah, overly detailed) but then says it's a powerful script and she can understand the draw to someone like Billy. She then describes Almost Famous but calls it this script, minus the learner journalist of course.

Sophie's set to full on whine mode, which I am only dulling by watching my Supernatural DVDs as I type. She's blabbing on about how she's not sure if she should be pleased that Billy let her read or not (I'm thinking yes, because I remember the shit Anna Kendrick landed herself in when she 'accidentally' threw out the scripts to one of the Twilight films and Up In The Air) but she acknowledges that she'd have been shocked on set otherwise. That's all she does, she's not grateful for the knowledge, or worried about having to watch, or even trying to schedule it so she misses that day due to her poor constitution and lack of smelling salts. She just makes that brief acknowledgement, before emoing about the reality of Billy's job, and how she can't start throwing her weight around now and making demands.

NO, YOU FUCKING CAN'T! IT'S HIS JOB! YOU BARELY COUNT! *breathes* This isn't like trying to talk Tom out of a GQ photo shoot. It's not like asking him to tone down his lyrics. This is a script which he is now contractually obligated to do and he's just being polite and considerate of your crazy ass ways. You cannot make him void his contract just because you're psychotic. It's not an option, don't even begin to speculate that it might be. You know the only person who can make a request? Billy. And maybe his co-star. And even then, they might not get much sway.

Oh but this bitch doesn't get it ... on two points on this one page:

Reading the script, it makes sense that actors usually date other actors. To those outside of the profession, the notion of sending your partner off to work every day where he'll be fondling someone else is just plain barbaric. At least with two actors they each have to do the same thing, sharing some sort of mutual understanding.

 

I know my reaction to this script is pivotal. If I react badly, blow up and go nuts at the stupidity of someone doing scenes like this when they're in a committed relationship, I'll push Billy away and drive a wedge between us. I'll be giving these girls the advantage of things not being rosy at home. Allowing them to wiggle their way through the cracks and come between us.

Did you think I was kidding about the emo angst? And fuck you, it's not barbaric, it's work. And hey, since I'm watching Supernatural, and Dean and Sam just got pinned by a fucking demon who tried to crush their lungs ... barbaric is all relative. And funnylolstory about the word 'barbaric'? When I was in Rome recently, the tour guides tried telling us that 'barbarian' actually was 'blahblahian' and the Romans used it for anyone who talked in a dialect they didn't understand. Which I guess, in the context of Sophie's pissy little rant, actually does make sense, because it seems to be outside of her dialect.

Anyway, why is her reaction so pivotal? If she and Billy had any real relationship, this shouldn't be an issue. I am going to repeat this until this book ends and I am blue in the face. IF THIS WAS A REAL RELATIONSHIP, THEY WOULD BE STRONG ENOUGH TO WITHSTAND ANY OF THIS. IF SHE WANTS TO DATE AN ACTOR, A WELL-KNOWN ONE AT THAT, SHE NEEDS TO BE MATURE ENOUGH TO DEAL WITH WHATEVER ALREADY EXISTS IN HIS LIFE AND TO FIT IN. THIS RELATIONSHIP SHOULD NOT EXIST BECAUSE SOPHIE FUCKING MAY IS TOO FUCKING IMMATURE FOR THE COMMITMENT THIS SORT OF RELATIONSHIP NEEDS!

And now for the cherry on the shit sundae which is this segment of the chapter:

I have to remain calm and rational, no matter how tempted I am to scream and shout, declaring the whole thing ridiculous. It's only for eight weeks, after all, how hard can that be?

Shove it up your arse.

So the next section is Billy coming through the front door 'puffing in distress' which to me sounds like he just got jumped. Sophie's still making it all about her and how she felt about that fucking script. And ... I'm going to put the passage, because you're going to see a word jump out at you like I did and be like 'are you trying to be meta right now, Giovanna?'

"Paul ..." he says, scratching his head as he screws up his face in angst. "While I was there he found out who'd been cast opposite me in the film."

Yeah, he wasn't nearly beat up, or robbed ... he just found out his co-star, and it's causing him distress.

Oh, and the word of the day was 'angst'. She actually fucking wrote that. About Billy. Muchlols.

So the new co-star is his ex-girlfriend. I would actually be relieved, because someone is an ex for a reason, and it sounds like Billy went into MegaWhore mode after they broke up, so I'm guessing they're very over each other and really, Sophie's worries should be put to rest.

But of course, this is Bad News for Sophie, because he fucked her once, so maybe this will remind them of their glory days and start them fooling around again. They got together through work the first time after all, right? (Isn't Sophie going to BE there? In his trailer, all day every day? Aren't they only going to separate themselves for scenes? When is Billy going to cheat, exactly?) Billy still has to reassure the neurotic mess that is Sophie:

"I know this is going to be really odd, but trust me, it'll all be professional and above board. It's literally a case of putting what where for the camera, anyway."

Although to me, that sounds like this has become an actual porno.

They emo the same shit for two more pages. Mmmmmm, creamy, sickly-sweet filler. The next section, Sophie talks about finding out about Billys ex being his co-star 'makes' her call Molly. Fuck off. You made yourself call your emotional crutch because you're too fucking insecure. Own your shit.

Actually, pause on that thought for a second, because it almost seems like for a nanosecond she does:

I've been so wrapped up in my own torment and misery that I selfishly blocked out how Molly must've been feeling during that time.

So then they start expounding on how shit Sophie's replacement was and how they both suck for trusting her, and how Sally went about betraying everyone, the cow. Oh, and everyone is up in arms because the next article might be about someone cheating about their cooking ... yeah. Quite the scandal, there.

Then Sophie says she's glad the article came out and that Billy knows now and I try not to ragesplode. She's like this guy I work with who will throw tantrums about ANYTHING, cuss all the managers out, act like a brat ... then twenty minutes later come back and say 'I do apologise, I'm so sorry'. Which is the point I basically tell him to go fuck himself (or, you know 'I don't want your empty apologies, I want you to think and act like an adult and maybe not fuck up in the first place? That would be good once in a while. Otherwise, I don't want to hear it') because who wants people like that in their lives?

You know, I don't think Giovanna is actually like this, you know. I think she's trying here to create tension and she's out of realistic options, so she's rehashing the same things over and over. Which is fairly realistic, I have some friends who stick to the same five conversations, but in print, as I've pointed out, it makes Sophie look like a horribly neurotic psychobitch. This should have been a novella.

Ugh, I hate Sophie-and-Molly conversations. They have one word conversations for extra added filler, and it takes So Damn Long to get to the point. And then we have a rehash of the chapter so far with Molly fangirling in between Sophie's blabbering. I'm not kidding, the last few paragraphs in entirety?

"My girl, just remember that it's you he comes home to every night."

"Yes, but is there any point in him coming home if he'd rather be somewhere else? There's so much happening at the moment, opportunities being offered every day - it's all so exciting for him. But for me it's just ..."

"Overwhelming?"
"Yeah. I guess. I've got nothing exciting to give him."
I hear Molly sigh down the phone. "Don't let your doubts get into his head - nothing will push him away faster. That boy loves you, Sophie. You've got to start believing you're good enough."

See? Fangirling. Although, I saw that sigh. Molly's as done with Sophie's shit as I am.

And with that is the end of the chapter, and the end of this blog post, and I am out. Done. See you next time.