Karmic balancing

It’s been about a week since I wrote about my movie producer. When I wrote then it felt like an unlikely dream, the sort of thing you hear about once in a blue moon about some other guy. this time it was me, but I was still sceptical.

I’m not as sceptical now, and more has happened since. It’s at the stage where things are unfolding, but I don’t want to say too much. I’m sure something will happen, I’m just not sure what as yet. If it’s the full dream that something will be a book deal and movie. Weird, eh? I don’t expect that, though it would be nice, but I’m pretty confident that a book deal is likely and a movie is definitely on the cards.

I’ve been in constant contact with my movie producer. She is a passionate, intelligent woman, in ways seemingly a force of nature. I believe her when she says she can make things happen. She seems well-connected, with friends and partners spread across the industry in Europe and into Hollywood. She tells me how for 20 years she’s been reading one script a month, but reading my book takes her back to when she was younger and read for pleasure, when she was a questing individual searching for answers.

She has now laid out the plan for me. I won’t go into the details, mostly because it seems like tempting fate to do so. She tells me how she wants a screenwriter friend of hers to read the book – an Oscar winner. She tells of a partnership with a well-known high-end production company. She speaks of getting a particular actress interested in the story. I give no names now because I think it would be pretentious. And because, bad luck.

I feel as if I’m living parallel existence. In one I go about my normal life working and grousing about it. The other is mystery, the possibility of something I’ve written opening mighty doors to me and opening me to a life never imagined. Of course, it’s surreal. If any of this happens someone will have to make a movie of my life some day.

It is my story though, my doing. The luck is in finding the right person to make it happen for me, but they are my words, my genius as she would have it, that makes it possible. I tell myself not to believe, knowing it is the healthier perspective, but am swayed by her sincerity and passion. She believes. There’s no reason she must, but she believes in me.

As unlikely as it seems these things do happen. It might just be that this time it happens for me – and fair enough too, karma owes it to me.

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