11. Finn
Chapter 11
Finn
“Y ou all here, Finn?” Amber, my lawyer, leans her elbows on the table in the small corporate office kitchen.
“Absolutely,” I say, looking up from my phone. A complete lie: I’m well and thoroughly distracted. “Why did we think this was a good idea?”
Her eyes narrow. “ You thought this was a good idea. You said, and I quote: Because it’s a great opportunity to expand my audience and get a fat paycheck in the process. ”
A smart answer.
A reasonable answer.
One that I still agree with. Except— “The longer this drags out, the less convinced I am that it’s worth the effort.”
“What if we added another zero to the negotiations?” she asks, half-serious, brushing some crumbs off the table, into her hand. She's got a casual-yet-experienced look about her: a plain white fitted t-shirt and taupe blazer paired with dark skinny jeans and running shoes.
Amber has the unique ability to walk in the room and make you immediately feel comfortable, maybe even a little unfiltered. But the moment negotiations begin, no one else stands a chance. She's fearless and precise in her communication and doesn't let shit slide by. She demands—and gives—respect. I really like having her in my court.
“Wouldn’t be the worst idea we’ve had.” Money is not my primary motivator, but I’m running short on inspiration for this project.
Seeing your book come to life in the form of a TV series is incredible. At least, that’s what they make you think. So far, this whole endeavor just feels cursed. It’s a never-ending series of meetings, negotiations, and re-negotiations as key players come and go in a seemingly endless cycle. We lost the original creative director a while back due to scheduling conflicts. Then there were casting difficulties that stretched on for months. The scriptwriters turned out an incredible product…but it made so many wild departures from key plot points that I felt obliged to ask for a revision. I felt like a dick. They were so proud of what they’d done. And honestly, it was really great and would have made a fantastic series, but it wasn’t my story.
What was once a very promising project is now—well, it’s been wearing on me. This is not what I’m cut out for. Honestly, I think even Amber is beginning to question the sanity of working with me on this. She’s a brilliant negotiator, one of the best I’ve ever come across. But I’m losing enthusiasm, which makes it a lot harder for her.
I think I’ve come to the decision that I’d rather just make my money writing. It’s what I do best. The fact that I have full control over the finished product is also pretty damn nice. My core readers are happy and I bet I could make them even happier with an exclusive edition, once I get the final book written.
If I get the final book written.
It’s been a solid three months of not being able to produce anything worth reading. That’s a veritable lifetime for a prolific writer. I should be midway through a book draft, but all I have are half-finished ideas and a whole notebook full of blank pages. And then those three inspired pages from earlier this week.
I check my phone again. There’s no missed call, no text. I haven’t heard from Rune since I left her at her aunt’s house four days ago. Which reminds me…I send off a quick message to Charlie, asking how the car repair is going.
Charlie: Just finished up.
Me: What’s the bill?
Charlie: $1250 for parts a bookend to wrap up the little adventure that she brought to my doorstep.
Satisfied with that plan, I settle in and try to focus on the mysteries of ages past.