"Can we offer you something from the bar?" a bright eyed Stewardess says to me as she leans into my row. I like how she's twisted her hair. It's very 60s. Very slick.
Why do Stewardesses always look so glamorous and put together?
Like Barbies at 30 000 feet...
"Just some water please and thank you," I say back to her and return to my laptop. I have a few hours left until I need to hand in the final draft. I've never felt so much passion for a story before. Blood is rushing through my veins. I'm excited, invigorated.
Charged...
"Mia!" Consuela leans over to see what I'm writing. Her chubby little legs dangle from the seat. Her neck pillow cocks to one side as she shoves into my personal space.
"Yer iz can not say dose sings!" she says all wide-eyed.
The Stewardess hands me my glass of water and I smile at her with thanks.
"What are you talking about?" I say and re-read what I've written. It's the crux, where my character is leaving her job -- well, actually being forced out.
And these idiots, will at some point in time, be your boss.
A higher up who only got Cs in high school and realized very
early on that the road to success in life was to make sure that
all those who are smarter than them (which, is the majority
of the population) have one disadvantage: they have to bypass
them or outshine them in order to move up.
Consuela fidgets in her seat and gives me a scowl, "Yer isn't should be saying doze sings. Da people dey will read and den dey will really hate yer!!"
"What are you talking about?" I say and ignore her as I continue to write. It's really annoying when Consuela takes everything I put on paper so literally.
"No one is going to hate me," I mutter to her when the guilt sets in and I can feel her sulking beside me.
"Yes dey iz! Yer iz saying all der nasty sings and der people will sink dat yer iz nasty!!" she whines as she crosses her arms and sits back in her seat.
I stop what I'm doing, take a deep breath, and turn toward her.
"Consuela, the people will not hate me. What I write, and who I am, are completely different. One is not directly related to the other. And besides, it's important for my character to get angry at this point in the movie, her whole world is falling apart -- which is a good thing. When your world falls apart you have no choice but to build a new one." I say and turn back to my screen.
I really don't have time for her paranoia right now. I have less than three hours to tie everything up into a nice little bow. And, what I need right now is to get into the head space of a girl who feels robbed. A girl who has worked her whole life towards a career that is being taken away from her because her destiny lies somewhere else. A destiny more appropriate for her -- but for now, she is very angry. She hates her boss. She hates everyone in the corporate world.
It makes sense.
Consuela begins to snore. I dig around in my laptop bag for earplugs, which a moment later I insert to block out the noise. I need full concentration right now. Nothing can distract me from being my character for the moment. Everything I lay down matters -- it sets the foundation for her choices later on in the movie.
I take a sip of my water and re-read the rant I've just written for her as she's fired.
It's funny.
I like it.
I can totally see a saucy actress loving this particular scene. How often do we really get to say what we want to other people?
I chuckle a bit more as I really bugger up my puppet. She fumes. She rants. She gets dragged out by security.
All hope is lost...
Poor little thing. If it wasn't for the fact that I already know how the whole thing is going to end, I would actually feel sorry for her. But I don't. I revel in her pain because as the writer, it gives me fuel to propel her next decision.
I love this character. She's everything I've ever wanted for a Heroine. Sassy, but kind. Smart, but oblivious. Pretty, but unsure.
I make sure to save what I've just written. I couldn't bare the thought of losing the words I've just poured onto the page. They're perfect.
And so, as I look out the window and see the clouds floating by, I sit back in my seat and stretch my arms. Then I do my foot and ankle stretches to avoid deep vein thrombosis. And, as I rotate my ankles counter clockwise, and then clockwise, I think about the best way to wrap up the entire movie.
I still have to write the final scene.
