I agree with the playwright Noel Coward who said, “Work is much more fun than fun.” I’d always been a writer, even before I was paid for my work. I’d worked hard to master my skills as a novelist, and had “fun” doing it. But now I was mastering a new craft. And I was mastering it fast, which Jean, Andy and Lori all liked. I wrote the five springboards overnight and delivered them to Lori the next morning. She tucked the springboards into a folder and said she’d get them to Jean.
I nodded and went home. I took a long nap and woke at seven, feeling much better. I showered and headed out to La Frite in nearby Sherman Oaks, thinking “All work and no fun makes Jack a dull boy.”
La Frite’s an upscale L.A./French eatery. Great escargot and lots of good-looking people hanging at the bar. I was sitting next to a beautiful young woman who, thirty seconds after I sat, said, “Hi”, quickly followed by “What do you do?” One of the things I loved about L.A. was that there was no warmup. Straight into the game.
“I’m a writer.”
“Really?” she responded, unimpressed, having heard this before. She followed with, “What do you write?”
She tilted her head, a little more interested and asked, “What shows?”
When I said, “The Littles” her mouth hung open. After she regained her composure she said, “I love The Littles! The turtle! He’s so cute! What’s his name?!”
“Right! Slick! I love the sound he makes.”
Summoning my best Slick impersonation, I offered, “Eeee! Eeee!”
She let out a long, lilting laugh. “That’s it!” Then she gently laid a hand on my right forearm and cooed, “I’m Jocelyn…”
Ah-ha, I thought…