“Well, you’re still in need of structuring the plot and setting.” Seble calmly assessed my rough draft.
I swallowed hard after hearing this.
“…But you have a great concept and I’m thrilled that you’ve finally started to write this screenplay.” She handed me the notebook and smiled.
“You’re just saying that.”
“Even if I wasn’t married to you, I’d still think it was worth making a story about.” She then kissed me. “Trust me, there is a ton of promise over there.”
“Sure, Seble. I appreciate you looking it over. I’ll make sure everything is spelled right, grammatically correct, and I get to avoid unfortunate implications.” I promised.
“That’s more than what a lot of screenwriters would say especially back in California.” Seble complimented me.
Come to think of it, I’ve been in the presence of those writers before. They didn’t care as long as it made a buck no matter if they ignored plot holes or if they put some racist or sexist things.
Man alive, I’m a straight white man, and even I noticed how they never noticed that stuff.