I’m in Hollywood

Chapter 2: Inspiration from the quarrel

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Eric put the somewhat bulky second-hand typewriter gently on the desk, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and missed his thin and light laptop in his previous life very much. This is the second day after he discovered his abnormal memory bank. After a day of thinking, Eric already has a preliminary plan for his future.

So he asked Jeff for a day off, and after shopping around for half a day, he bought this second-hand typewriter. This is essential to realize your plans.

After dealing with Ralph's funeral, Eric only had a few hundred dollars in cash left in his hands at the time. In Western countries with a good welfare system, people have never had the habit of saving. After being reborn, Eric is fortunate that the loan of the house he lives in has been paid off. Otherwise, if the house is repossessed because of his inability to pay the mortgage, he may Going to sleep on the street. In this way, the money to buy the typewriter is still a month's salary that Eric advanced to Jeff.

To realize your ideal, you must first enter the circle of Hollywood. Don't even think about being a director directly, and being an actor is not a suitable path for him. After much deliberation, the most suitable thing for him is to be a screenwriter. Although people always say that the status of Hollywood screenwriters is low in this era, it is actually not the case, because the top gold medal screenwriters have switched careers to become directors and producers, which is no different from Hong Kong movies that are in full swing on the other side of the ocean.

Putting a piece of manuscript paper into the typewriter, Eric raised his hand and typed a line of letters on the keyboard: Jurassic Park. That's right, it was the most profitable movie series in the 1990s.

Eric still remembers the scene of his previous life when he bought the disc of "Jurassic Park" from a peddler who sold pirated discs and watched it with a group of friends. When lifelike dinosaurs appeared on the TV screen, that kind of The feeling can only be described in one sentence: My friends and I were stunned.

In my memory, the novel "Jurassic Park" was published in 1990, and the novel only has more than 100,000 words, so Michael Clayton must not have started writing it yet. Eric took it as his own with peace of mind, and if he didn't take it, he would be blamed instead. As for Michael Crichton, speaking of such a character whose life experience can be called fantasy, there is no such thing as "Jurassic Park" and Baiji Park.

The corners of Eric's mouth curled up slightly, typing on the keyboard while recalling the past. What he is writing is not a Jurassic Park script, but a novel. After watching the movie in his previous life, out of curiosity, he found the Jurassic Park novel and read it carefully. Now, with the memory of a high school student who got good grades in school, it is more than enough to translate the Chinese version of the previous life into an English novel.

The reason why the script was not written directly was that on the one hand, the script was directly written and put into the film company, which was most likely to be thrown into the trash as waste paper. The scripts received by Hollywood film companies every day can basically be counted on a catty basis. On the other hand, Eric wants to firmly control the film copyright of this series in his own hands, because even if the script is written now, it is picked up by a film company with a discerning eye, and it is made into a movie, then the biggest profit will be made in the end. The only ones who benefit are those film companies, and Eric, in addition to the script remuneration of tens of thousands of dollars, can receive at most an additional dividend. Eric would definitely not do such a loss-making thing.

By publishing the novel, Eric can firmly control the copyright of the film and television in his own hands, and wait for the right time to sell it for a price, maximizing the benefits he can obtain.

The time immersed in work always passes quickly, until the sky is completely dark and Eric has looked down on the letters on the keyboard, only to find that he has been writing for four or five hours without knowing it, and his stomach is full. Started cooing.

Standing up, Eric looked at the thick stack of manuscripts on the desk and stretched contentedly. According to this speed, the manuscripts could be completed in about a week. After all, at this stage, he still had to continue working in Jeff’s restaurant Work, or starve.

Walking into the kitchen, Eric made a simple dinner for himself, rice with tomato scrambled eggs, a typical Chinese home cooking, as for the leftover bread, cheese, peanut butter and the like in the refrigerator, Eric usually It was eaten as a snack. Although he inherited the memory of the original guy, the eating habits of the oriental people are still deeply ingrained in his bones.

After a simple dinner, Eric came to the balcony on the second floor, leaning on the railing and looking at the surrounding night scene. The apartment he lives in is a two-story house with a small yard of less than 200 square meters. Some unknown flowers and plants are randomly planted in the yard. There is no hostess, and the cheap father Ralph is also an informal person, so The life of father and son has always been rough. In my memory, when I was about seven or eight years old, the father and son moved from Renton, England to Los Angeles. Eric didn't remember why Ralph did this. He was too young at that time, and according to the clues in his memory now, Eric couldn't figure it out, so he didn't bother to think about it.

After moving to Los Angeles, Ralph dragged little Eric around Los Angeles for only two days, and then he bought this small courtyard under the introduction of a real estate agent, and everything seemed very messy. Eric smiled, and it was the oriental's prudent property buying concept in his bones that caused the trouble again.

Stayed on the balcony for a while, and was about to go back to the study to continue writing "Jurassic Park", when he suddenly heard a thud, like the sound of some glassware falling on the ground, Eric turned his eyes to the neighbor's house to the west, it was The home of the Runkel couple, a couple in their forties, the couple have three children, the eldest son has gone to college, a daughter is studying in a boarding middle school, and the youngest son is only seven years old.

The couple may have encountered a mid-life crisis, and they often quarreled during this period. Although the relationship between Eric's family and the Lankel family is good, Eric does not intend to go up to persuade them to fight. The two couples are very restrained people and have no record of fighting. If I rushed to persuade the fight rashly, I would only embarrass the other party.

After a quick and indistinct quarrel and the sound of several pieces of equipment being broken, the door of the Lankel house was pushed open with a clang. The host, Charleson Lankel, wearing a shirt and messy hair, rushed out of the room, ran two quick steps, turned his head and shouted at the woman in the door: "Enough, I've had enough, damn it, you bitch. If I hadn't moved to Los Angeles to marry you, I might be an executive of General Motors now, look what you look like now, my God!"

"Go to hell," Mrs. Lankel, who always spoke in a soft voice, now had a high-pitched and sharp voice: "Of the three men who pursued me with you back then, one is now a California senator. One resells oil in the Middle East, do you know oil? The profit of one ship is worth your salary for a hundred years! It's my mother who should regret it. Now, go to sleep in your GM, dear 'GM High Tube'!"

After Mrs. Lankel finished speaking, she threw out a black coat and closed the door with a bang.

Charlieson Runkel picked up his coat and patted it, stood up and looked up just in time to see Eric standing on the balcony.

"Sorry to bother you, Eric." Charlieson smiled sarcastically and said to Eric.

"It's okay, Charlieson, do you want... come to my house?" Eric said.

Charlieson shook his head and said, "No, thank you, I... I'm going to go to the bar. Wait... Mary should calm down when I come back in a while."

After Charlieson finished speaking, he nodded to Eric, started his car and drove away.

Eric returned to the room, remembering the scene of the Lankel couple quarreling, a thought suddenly flashed in his mind, sitting at the desk, loading a piece of manuscript paper into the typewriter, the idea just now gradually became clear.

For the past two days, Eric has been thinking about what to write in his first script, and now he has the answer. The script was tailor-made for him. Well, because of the age difference, a lot of details need to be revised, but these are not problems, and the selling point of the script is not in those details.

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