A strange thing happened to me yesterday. Got an email from an exec at Columbia Pictures. (That executive in reality: probably a spotty twenty-two year old crammed into a small desk next to the copying machine. That executive in fantasy: silver haired guy in a hot tub, along with two babes, an iced martini and a cigar longer than my arm.)
The email asked if the TV/film rights are available to TALKING TO THE DEAD, my upcoming crime thriller. And they’re not. We’ve sold em already, to a brilliant small London-based production company, Bonafide, who will, I think, do a fabulous job with the project.
Which meant we had to write back to Columbia, saying, erm, sorry but no. Gulp.
Bye bye, man-in-a-hot-tub. Hello, whatever Bonafide can come up with. These are exciting times for me, very exciting.