Young Writers Society

I take a deep breath and force myself to get out of my car.

I’m struck by the man who greets me at the door. I’d recognize his face anywhere, but his hair is almost entirely gray. He sees me staring and catches on.

“Oh, the hair,” he says, his southern drawl unmistakable. “It’s been happening going on ten years now.” His accent is a stark reminder of who he is when cameras aren’t rolling. Of course, his real voice was never a mystery to anyone, but it’s all too easy either to forget or to not want to remember.

“What about Ghostlight?” I ask, thinking of his Oscar-worthy turn as the alcoholic artistic director of a struggling theater. To this day, I can’t believe he’s never won the trophy.

“I was dyeing it then. At a certain point, you stop fighting,” he says with a smile.
His hair was still his signature chocolate brown then.

As he leads me in, tells me about the ranch, about how he’s most at peace when he’s drinking his coffee in the morning out on the expansive patio, reading a good book, and watching the sunrise.

He serves us homemade mint iced tea. “So, Ghostlight. Did it help?”

"What you mean?” He asks.

I turn pale, suddenly embarrassed at having to explain myself. “Olive. Did playing an alcoholic help you understand what Olive was going through?”

“Well, sure," Ryan says, handing me a tea and sitting on the couch opposite me. “From day one, I knew she never meant to hurt anyone. Least of all me.”

I take a sip of my tea as I think about to say next.

Ryan beats me to it. "What's your goal in writing this book, Angie?”

It might be imagination, nerves, or something in between, but I could swear his tone is accusatory. I remind myself of what Olive told me and know it’s not personal. After the media tired of the Cole Hargrove affair story, the daggers turned to Ryan. How dare he leave the mother of his child when she needed him the most. Still, I rush to defend myself. “I just think people would be more inspired by her... and maybe have a little bit of a healthier relationship with the artists they love if they knew her full story. If they knew she got to where she is because of, not despite, her being a flawed human being like the rest of us.”

Ryan purses his lips, and his eyes go distant for a moment. After a moment, he nods. "Yeah, I understand that.”

More silence. I freeze up, definitely in the process forgetting how to speak.

“I’m not interested in bashing her, if that's what you're looking for,” Ryan says.

I shake my head.

Because of the variations in everyone's ages, this would be literally impossible to adapt into film, because some people could reprise their roles, others couldn't and it'd just be a mess. It'd be one thing if it was its own self-contained story, because it's a duet I'd want there to be some consistency and overlap.

I know I shouldn't base things entirely on film potential, BUT:

I think part of the reason I made Angie the writer in the first place was because she was the only one to have the connections to make the book so young and the only reason anyone gives her any time of day is because she's Cole Hargrove's sister in law. Her being pushing 40 and settled/domestic isn't quite working in the way I intended it to. She also has a subplot where she has a passion project script she wants to make (she is established to be a filmmaker in AOY) that nobody cares about, and she perhaps thinks writing the book will be a step forward.

Amelia (Olive and Ryan's daughter) being 17 is also problematic because she is old enough to understand what is going on but has no autonomy in the story. I don't think she says a word. If she was 2, and I set in the bio writing in 2007, everything might make a little bit more sense, and it'd give it a little more sense of immediacy.

This story actually has more in common with Daisy Jones and the Six than even All Our Yesterdays does, and I know they had to make a similar change (moving the doc framing to the 90s) for a similar reason, but it's also different enough that it's fine.

My only concern with moving up the timeline is that writing about the 90s from the perspective of the mid-2000s might make everything seem more immediate in a story that needs narrative distance, but I suppose it'd still be possible, because even if it's 2007-08 Olive's start in the late 80s would still be 20 years off.

... This would mean I'm going to have to rewrite from page one, but it might be what I have to do.

“I come here to think,” Olive says. “I feel like I’m on sacred ground whenever I’m here.” She opens her mouth to say more, but she must realize if she do, the jig will be up.

I admit it first. “Olive, my name’s Angie, I’m a big fan of yours.”

Olive gives me a tired smile.

I get out of the car, take my soda, and join her at the side of the Laurel Canyon Country Store. “I saw you perform in the Macy’s show,” I said, “a couple of years ago.”
 I’d think that being beside her would stir more feelings within me, but something about talking her comes so naturally, so easy.
 Olive laughs. “Oh, god.”

“My girlfriend, she’s Cole Hargrove’s younger sister,” I say. Normally I don’t like to brag about this fact or bring it up unprompted. But, since Olive knows Cole, maybe she’ll know that she can trust me.

“No, shit,” Olive says. “Small fucking world.”

She sniffles again. “Yeah, Kelsey’s just making sure he’s not alone, so.”

“Did it really happen in the way they said?” Olive asks. “I haven’t talked to Cole in months, so I wouldn't know.”

“I guess,” I admit.

Olive shakes her head and takes another drink. “Well, I’m disappointed in him.”

I say nothing.

She looks at my soda bottle and laughs. “Aren’t we cool, Angie? Drinking soda at 6 o’clock on Halloween night?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I say.

I realize that she must be so lonely. I see it in her eyes. I can’t be talking to Kate McGill, Isabel Silver, Joan Rooney’s best friend, the singer-songwriter of “Lovesick”, “Cinderella”, and so many more. That woman has always inhabited a rarified air, one I’ve never been worthy enough to share a planet with, much less a friendly chat over a soda.

“What is it you do, Angie?” Olive finally asked. “Cole Hargrove’s…”

I can tell she wants to say sister-in-law, and the thought makes my cheeks flush.

“Cole Hargrove’s sister’s girlfriend must have some artistic streak,” she says with a tired smile.

“I’m a filmmaker,” I say. “A writer, too.”

Olive asks if I’m working on anything.

I think of Annalise and how I still can’t get the character designs right. I want to tell her, but I stop short.

The strange interaction ends. “If you ever need a friend in the city, let me know.”

I don’t realize until I’m driving home that there’s no way for me to let her know.

Comments (987)

I scroll past countless comments. I know it’s there. Unless it’s deleted. It can’t be. I left it up. As I do, they mostly blend together, but a few exchanges and individual comments catch my eye.

MillyMoo: Betting $ that she and Cole banged.
sydshergrove: is this even a question? They obviously did. We know Cole's gf aint doing anything for him XDDD
victoria9548: @sydshergrove right??? Imagine u have a choice between Olive and *her* and u choose m*rcy.
sydshergrove: @victoria9548 LMFAO, I hope they get together.
victoria9548: @sydshergrove m*rcy must hav dirt on him I stg. She’s so ugly it makes my eyes hurt
 sydshergrove: @victoria9458 One day he’ll wake up <3333

KieranL: Ryan should demand a paternity test, imo.

Babswalter1939: “The biggest role of our lives.”. The audacity. Typical out-of-touch, Hollywood elite. Everything is a movie to them. Theyre both terrible people.

PhantomBrian: Who cares? Never liked either of them. Our government is starting wars and all you want to do is follow the Marie Antionette School of “Let Them Eat Cake.”
KayleeBaggins: Hollywood has no morals and never has. No wonder these marriages never last I’d like to see them work a 9-5
sydshergrove: @KayleeBagins um u know olive is from a poor family rite??
KayleeBaggins: @sydshergrove So?
PhantomBrian: @sydshergrove Learn to type, child.
sydshergrove: @PhantomBrian im 16 rude
PhantomBrian: @sydshergrove so you’re 10? Got it.

I’m about to give up when a lump forms in my throat. Incredibly, I see it. My old screenname from high school. Memories rush back as I remember what I wrote in 2004, and the replies.

silversallywinchell98: Woooow. Coming to this comment section was a mistake. :/ this is so disrespectful to both of them. None of u literally know what’s going on so maybe just leave them alone?
KayleeBaggins: Lmao. What authority are you?
victoria9548: @sydshergrove lmao get a load of this person.
sydshergrove: @silversallywinchell98 Ryan, is that you?
PhantomBrian: @sydshergrove I think it’s past your bedtime.
EmmyLulu82: @silversallywinchell98 I completely agree with you. I’m wishing them nothing but the best.

After a moment, I close my laptop screen, rub my eyes, and take a moment to listen to the crickets coming from outside. I find my way to the kitchen, pouring myself a large glass of wine as Olive’s words ring in my head.

If you need a friend in the city, let me know. 



I take the receipt she gave with her number out of my pocket. She must really be lonely. I can’t imagine why she'd want to give me the time of day otherwise.