- The continuing diary of an accidental mother - Week 22
Monday, mid afternoon in an interview room in Central London, Irish Director Shimmy Marcus and myself were under the spotlight. My script Hannah Cohen's Holy Communion had been short listed for the prestigious Pears Foundation award. If we managed to answer all questions correctly, the funding could be ours. Awarded funds we could make the film. If this film was made... Okay, enough all ready - you get the gist. Basically, opportunity was flirting, leading me to a summit of change on the work-front. I gladly followed and, perched precariously upon the apex, took a backward glance.
A year from here the Glam Rocker did not exist, our eyes yet to meet. At the time, I was head down in a trough. Pre Glam-Rockdom, I had been immersed in a world of kisses; in the planting, sowing, harvesting and reaping of. It was a project born of the heart. Hours, days, months were spent researching, compiling, collating and classifying kisses for my last work, entitled A Compendium of Kisses.
There were also, Jars of Kisses, Kiss Cards and Bespoke Kisses for the more discerning of lips. Back then my future was mapped in out in kisses. With lips puckered, I blew them forth and hoped they would spread as a virus, infecting all with love. Up and down the length of Britain I, like a grand old Duke marched peddling my thoughts and pecks. Sadly the fruit of such labours was, to put it succinctly, a massive smack in the face (as opposed to a smacker) culminating with a most bitter kiss of death when my charlatan publisher fled into administration owing myself and many others much.
Shit happens hey?
Yep Life's a Pitch
So.... Back in the present, I was trying to sell my story, hoping my luck would change. The film tells the tale of a young girl growing up in Dublin in the mid 70s - emotionally not a million miles away from my own experience. All she wants to do is make her Holy Communion, only problem being she's Jewish.
Now the movie world demands swagger and cast iron confidence, attributes more commonly found in a producer rather than a writer. Pitching is a skill I lack. Sure enough, the moment I sat in the hot seat, nerves set in, bravado deserted me and I blustered, flustered and cheek reddened.
Still, I did the best I could.
Half an hour later, the interview was over. The outcome lay in the lap of the gods.
We were told we would be notified soon enough. Should we win, we would have to produce, cast, shoot, edit and deliver the finished film by the end of August. No small feat, especially with a baby on the way.
Almost 13 years ago, the BBC funded my short, I was the Cigarette Girl. It was shot the first week of my Teenager's life. I recall arriving home from hospital to urgent calls from the director, as last minute changes to the script were required.
Back at the apartment sat tethered to the phone I wondered if history might repeat itself.
TO BE CONTINUED
Hair today, hair tomorrow...
Twenty-two weeks into your pregnancy your baby is completely covered with a fine, down-like hair called lanugo. The lanugo helps hold the vernix caseosa (cheesy stuff) on the skin. Your baby's eyebrows might also be visible.
Size wise - your baby may