tall tales ~ issue 31

The Americana at Brand

Hello my friends! Welcome to October. 

We skipped September. I know, I KNOW. I’m sorry, although since updating this newsletter’s description to monthly-ish I’ve had less demons about the months in which my brain is too mouldy to compose a gorgeous little email to you all. The first time I typed that I wrote ‘compost’ instead of compose, and was tempted to leave it in. We should always be composting our emails. Particularly when they are mouldy. 

This month’s edition is exposition-heavy. I’ve just moved to the US for a bit, and I thought it would be a good time for an explainer. If you follow me on Instagram, or we went to high school together, or you subscribed by mistake and are now trying to work out why the fuck you gave me your email….. perhaps this will provide context! Perhaps not. But I’m a deeply nosy person, and I often want to know exactly how and why people move overseas, and specifically how they pay for it. So strap in, you pervs! I have never once kept a secret in my life!!!

I’ve mentioned this a great many times, but I spent most of of this year applying for and then waiting to hear back about my O-1 visa to live and work in the United States. I know, I KNOW. It’s all falling apart, and Fitzroy North is so much nicer. And yet? Here we are. If you’ve been a subscriber for 2+ years, you’ll know that my partner and I visited LA for a month in 2022. We came to the US to taste test the idea that maybe we could live here for a while. My partner works in music, and I have aspirations of visiting Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban’s house for dinner, so it seemed the obvious choice. 

My partner landed a dream job assisting a big mix engineer in LA, and we decided to take the plunge. It took four months to compile the necessary documents, and it cost too much money. If you DM me I will tell you exactly how much. My inner monologue also speaks in this man’s voice now, due to the hours I spent watching his videos. Prior to this year, I couldn’t have imagined spending such a ridiculous amount of money on something so unnecessary, but at the same time… the American entertainment industry dream is alive and well. Plus, I’m 31 years old and might want to have a baby at some point (maternal instinct reveal!!!!) — my partner and I reasoned that if we didn’t go now, we never would. 

If your familiarity with me doesn’t extend beyond this newsletter, you may not know that I have a master’s degree in writing for film and TV. I finished this course in 2019, and spent the next couple of years trying to weasel my way into the industry in Australia. If I’m completely honest, in hindsight I can confirm that I spent a lot of time doing ‘busy work’ rather than dedicating my time to the one thing that could get me closer to my real goal — actually writing. I ran a workshop for emerging writers, I applied for an insane number of industry jobs (and received one lone interview request), I cold emailed producers and writers I admired, I read countless scripts, and I did a lot of complaining. Some of the complaints were valid (WHO IS WATCHING THE TELEVISION SERIES THE LAST KING OF THE CROSS???), while some were informed by my own lack of grit. 

In 2020, a friend and I co-wrote a pilot for a dark comedy series about a woman with a porn addiction who falls victim to a sextortion scam, and then decides to track down the person who sent the scam email. It was a great concept and we had a lot of fun working on it, but the fun was soon consumed by the idea that THIS was going to be the THING that kick-started our CAREERS. If I’ve learnt one thing over the last four years, it’s that the thing you think will change your life is rarely actually the thing. 

We had some initial interest in the project, which then became a few meetings and a lot of waiting. Then rejection. Then a glimmer of hope. More meetings. Waiting. More rejection. During this time, I should have been writing something else — because the real work is not something you do on Microsoft Teams — but I had carefully placed every single one of my eggs in that basket. When the flimsy basket failed to protect the eggs, I was devastated. And I really didn’t want to have to clean up all the slimy shells. 

It was around this time that I had a conversation with a producer friend, who alluded to the fact that it was actually easier to write a whole damn novel, get it published, and then get it optioned for television (and thus, be paid to write the adaptation), than it was to sell an original scripted series idea in Australia. I am here today to tell you that this is the truth as I have experienced it.

Look, there are a lot of variables at play, but put simply: the number of people who can finish a manuscript (80,000+ words) is smaller than the number of people who can finish a pilot script (a 54 page pilot I wrote last year comes in at 8,900 words, but a comedy could be half that). A novel is a feat of persistence and also delululemon.

I wrote about the process of finishing my first novel, Rytual, here, so I won’t repeat myself, but essentially after the conversation with the producer, my friend Yve also suggested that I try my hand at a novel. Along the way I signed with a literary agent, and in July 2023 my manuscript was sent out to publishers on the very same day that I broke my wrist as an adult woman.

And here! Is where we return to what I promised you. Rytual ended up going to auction in Australia, which means that we had six publishers bidding for the right to publish it. It was the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me. I was in Portugal by myself when the offers came in, which meant that everything happened while I was asleep, and when I woke up my blood turned to pure adrenaline. One afternoon I fell asleep at 4pm and woke two hours later, convinced it was 6am the next morning. I sent my agent these texts:

I retrieved these texts on LA time, so it was NOT 6:48pm in Portugal. Also, wait a minure…

Because the book went to auction, we were able to ask publishers to consider a two-book deal. In about twenty-four hours, I put together a pitch for the second book, and all of the publishers agreed to take both. By the time we closed the auction, I was able to mentally quit my job — which was handy given I had actually quit my job before I left for Portugal (much to my agent’s panic). I had, however, planned to go home and get a new job.

Time passed, and just as we were deciding whether we would try to sell the film and television rights in America (despite not yet having an American publisher, something we still don’t have), I received an Instagram DM from an old friend who works for a production company in Sydney. She said that their book scout had come across the pitch for Rytual, and had recommended that they request the manuscript from my agent. I hadn’t seen this friend in years, but I knew she had: 

1. excellent taste

2. a great sense of humour

3. incredible hair

We had also originally met because my bad ex-boyfriend worked for her bad ex-boyfriend’s company, which felt auspicious and maybe like the beginning of some kind of spell.  

Her company ended up optioning Rytual, and we’re now in the weeds of adapting it for TV. This doesn’t mean that the show will be made, but it does mean that I’ve managed to weasel my way into a professional writers’ room.

Earlier this year I also nabbed the best ongoing freelance gig of all-time at Shameless Media, which I wrote about here. I’m still continuing on for Shameless while I’m in the US, writing mainly for their show Style-Ish — which has been a great learning experience for me, a girl who owns 1.5 bras and does not clean her makeup brushes. 

So, for the nosy neighbours among us, here’s how I’m affording to be here:

1. The majority of my living expenses are paid by my publishing advances, for Rytual and the ~*untitled second book*~ I’m writing while I’m here

2. Each week I work one freelance day for Shameless, which covers most of my rent at the moment but will probably cover half in future

3. In addition, every so often I complete a task for the TV adaptation of Rytual, and I receive a lump sum for that work. For example, I’ve just submitted a draft of the pitch document, and in January I’ll write the pilot script

I’m also working on a feature film that I will eventually bundle with an existing spec script (something no one asked me to write — quite literally, that is the definition of ‘spec’) to try to get a film and TV agent over here. For a long time I have found it hard to vocalise that goal for fear of sounding like an absolute fucking noodle. LA makes you feel like there is definitely a room, somewhere, in which important things are happening, but it is not the room you’ve found yourself in. So, although I would like to go to Nicole Kidman’s house for dinner, I would also like to write a role for her in which she adopts whatever accent she feels like, and wears a wig the size of a horse. But, I’m reminding myself that Rome wasn’t built in a day. I don’t actually know how long it took to build the city of Rome, but I can only assume it was a long time. Plus, a screenplay is not a city. Get over yourself.

We’ll be back to regular programming next month, but in the meantime I really appreciate you being here. Until then <3

stories of note

• Jenny Slate - Seasoned Professional - I love Jenny Slate’s work so much. Her essay collection Little Weirds changed how I thought about writing, and what I should do with the alphabet and also words. Her latest special charts her journey to becoming a mother — from having a baby ‘explode’ out of her vagina, to the tiny awe-inspiring moments that make up a life. She is so emotionally-porous as a performer, and watching her in her element always inspires me to make things.

• Annabelle Lee on not keeping secrets - I’m biased, but I’m also a massive fan of Annabelle’s! From the moment I first walked into the Shameless Media office, Annabelle has been nothing short of a ray of sunshine. This chat with Ruby is really special! Annabelle for president (of what, you say? everything.)

• This one is not a story, it is a website. Crazy, I know — I keep telling myself to stop going on them. But not this one. This is the best website I have ever had the joy of perusing, and I have to give a shoutout to my partner Hamish for introducing me to it. Are you ready? Okay. It’s called seats.aero and if you fuck with frequent flyer programs it will change your life. It’s a search tool for reward seats by FF program. Never again will you be forced to trawl through your preferred airline’s daily flight schedule to find a seat on points. You’re welcome.