"Miss Lindsay Beal, please have a seat here and wait for a while."
Eva, the receptionist at Sand Sea Entertainment, pointed to a bench near the entrance and spoke to a girl with long golden-brown hair. "I'll call you when it's your turn."
Lindsay Beal put her handbag down first, then sat and looked around the company. It wasn't very large, probably around twenty people at most.
But she had heard of Sand Sea Entertainment before; they had produced the box office hit The Purge.
"I hope I pass the interview," Lindsay muttered to herself. "If I don't, I'll have to go back home and ask my parents for help."
Having graduated from college, she felt she had no reason not to be independent anymore. Her parents worked hard, and it wasn't fair to ask them to help with her student loans.
This path was proving to be more difficult than she had expected. Perhaps she should have pursued an internship at a commercial company right after graduation instead of foolishly running to Hollywood to become a screenwriter.
If she had better options, Lindsay Beal wouldn't be walking this path.
She graduated from a barely third-tier university, majoring in the overcrowded field of business. Despite good grades, coming from an ordinary family without a master's degree, and lacking work experience, most people like her had to start as interns.
After graduating, Lindsay had found a few jobs, but the pay was too low to cover anything beyond basic living expenses, let alone student loan payments.
A friend from the literature department had planned to come to Hollywood to be a screenwriter. Lindsay talked with him and decided to try her luck in Hollywood too.
Her friend had said that being a screenwriter in Hollywood had great prospects. A single idea picked up by a Hollywood company could sell for tens of thousands of dollars or more. With talent, making a name for oneself wasn't hard. Writing scripts could earn not only royalties but also a percentage of the box office once the film was made.
Plus, there was the Writers Guild to protect screenwriters' rights.
The pressure of student loans and the expectation of a bright future brought her from Pennsylvania to Los Angeles, only to find that her friend's promises were a dream.
New screenwriters were ignored. She had finally landed a job in a writing team but was only there to do menial tasks. Forget about having her name on the script; she hadn't even seen the head writer.
After three months in Hollywood, she had only found two jobs: one paid $220 a week to write college girl dialogue for a script; the other paid $300 a week to write scenes of college life.
With these two jobs, as one of her coworkers put it, she was incredibly lucky.
It was normal for a newbie screenwriter to go six months without finding work.
The Writers Guild had minimum pay standards, but when she inquired, she learned that the Guild had high entry barriers. People like her, even after working for two more years, might still not qualify for membership.
Luckily, she had saved some manuscript fees from college, or she wouldn't have survived these three months.
Recently, her luck had run out, and she hadn't found a job in over a month.
"Miss Lindsay Beal, please come with me."
Hearing the receptionist's words, Lindsay quickly stood up and followed her. She blew into her hands to check for any bad breath.
A much older woman exited the front office, walking towards them. She nodded at the receptionist.
Lindsay took a good look at her, sensing a kindred spirit.
Another interviewee? She looked upset, possibly because the interview didn't go well.
A failed interview could be good news for her.
This job wasn't great either—it was ghostwriting—but Lindsay desperately needed it.
Without a job, she'd have to go back home and ask her parents for help. With a job, she could stay here.
Entering the office, Lindsay saw the person behind the desk and was surprised. He looked even younger than her.
Michael pointed to the chair opposite him and said, "Please sit."
He couldn't help but take a quick look at her.
The woman appeared to be no older than twenty-five, dressed simply in a cheap black suit, slightly worn tight blue jeans, and gray flat shoes with faded edges. She was about 5'5", with an oval face, high nose bridge, and wavy golden hair draped over her shoulders, revealing a delicately featured face.
She was slim, with a delicate face and elegant features, unlike the typical American girl. She seemed more in line with Eastern aesthetics.
Michael was a bit surprised. Was she here to apply as a ghostwriter or an actress?
"Miss Lindsay Beal?" Michael asked.
The woman seemed a bit nervous at first but quickly composed herself, smiling to reveal two charming little rabbit teeth. "Yes, I'm Lindsay Beal."
Michael nodded slightly and introduced himself, "I'm Michael Davenport, president of Sand Sea Entertainment."
Lindsay understood that he was the one looking to hire a ghostwriter.
Michael didn't waste any time and asked directly, "Have you worked as a screenwriter before?"
"Yes," Lindsay replied honestly. "I've worked in two writing teams, without credit. The team leader assigned writing tasks, and I completed them as required."
Michael was curious, "You graduated from business school. Why did you decide to become a screenwriter?"
Lindsay, who had seen a bit of the Hollywood scene, had regained her composure and replied, "Writing is my personal hobby. During college, I published over twenty articles in the school paper, mostly fiction, and I had a short story published in a science fiction magazine."
She took out some bound photocopies from her handbag and placed them on the desk. "These are my published articles."
These articles had helped Lindsay secure her first two jobs.
Michael took them and slowly flipped through the pages, glancing at Lindsay again. Her initial nervousness seemed to have disappeared.
"Getting a science fiction story published, even a short one, is quite an achievement," Michael acknowledged, knowing the weight of such publications in the world of sci-fi literature. "Why not stay on the East Coast and become a literary writer instead of coming to Hollywood?"
Many in the literary world looked down on Hollywood screenwriters, especially those from the East Coast.
Hearing this question, Lindsay remembered Michael's role as a movie company boss and her own experiences as a Hollywood screenwriter. She combined her feelings and said, "No matter how much the elite writers on the East Coast look down on Hollywood screenwriters, I believe the opportunities I can gain here are unimaginable to those novelists, poets, and playwrights. No revered serious writer can create something that moves millions of people simultaneously, but a screenwriter can."
Michael was intrigued. A screenwriter who could articulate such thoughts was quite unusual.
Money was the most obvious reason for screenwriters to stay in Hollywood, but some were genuinely interested in exploring a new medium because they found no place for their talents in the literary and theater circles.
Michael continued, "A film screenwriter is never considered an artist. A screenwriter must get used to being a mere executor."
He needed a ghostwriter.
Lindsay nodded, "I understand."
Michael stated, "This job offers no credit and no copyright."
Lindsay was familiar with the concept of ghostwriting. "I understand."
Michael placed prepared paper and pen in front of Lindsay. "Using the traditional Hollywood female character template, like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, write a piece from a female perspective about a male character falling for the female lead."
Lindsay didn't say anything. This was the current mainstream trend. There were many novels like this on the market, and she had read some during school.
Michael added a second requirement, "For the second part, write about an independent female lead. She should be proactive, not needing a man to save her, but instead, she saves the man."
"Alright, start now," Michael said, glancing at the time. "You have half an hour. The setting is up to you. When you're done, show me."
Lindsay didn't speak further. She moved the chair closer to the desk and began to think before starting to write.
Michael left her to her task and turned his attention to the plans for the Final Destination premiere.
After just twenty minutes, Lindsay put down her pen and said, "Mr. Davenport, I'm finished."
Michael took the paper she handed over and began to read. The Mary Sue part was well done.
Mary Sue female leads were currently the trend, the most typical example being Julia Roberts. An escort girl could make a billionaire fall madly in love, which was even more far-fetched than Fifty Shades of Grey.
Lindsay seemed capable in this regard.
The independent female lead part was somewhat rough, likely influenced by the environment. Truly independent female characters were still rare in films and literature of this era.
Overall, it was pretty good.
Michael asked, "What do you think makes a good female character?"
Lindsay thought for a moment before answering, "The character should be relatable, with flaws, because perfection is boring. Also, the character must have motivation beyond just a man or children. A male screenwriter I worked with said he could come up with 300 motivations for his male lead but could only think of one for a female lead: saving a child."
"This subconscious bias must be eliminated," Lindsay asserted. "And there should never be a scenario where a man stops disarming a nuclear bomb to save his girlfriend and succeeds. Of course, they'll stop the bomb, but I always think: Doesn't his girlfriend want him to save the city? Or is she just selfish? Why would he still date her?"
Michael read her two passages again and said, "Miss Beal, you're hired."
Lindsay sighed in relief and then asked, "What's the pay?"
He dangled the bait, "If you can impress me with these three books, I will hire you as a credited screenwriter for Sand Sea Entertainment."
"Really?" Lindsay was tempted.
Michael smiled and said, "If you have an agent or lawyer, bring them tomorrow to sign the contract. If not, I will provide a vetted lawyer."
Lindsay responded immediately, "Alright, see you tomorrow."