Diary of a Hollywood Nobody ~ New Cover + Excerpt
By Lisa Maliga Copyright 2014
In Hollywood, nobodies are as disposable as toilet paper.
Although I've written a little about Hollywood in NOTES FROM NADIR, the majority of that book takes place far, far away from Hollywood.
What really happened in Hollywood? How easy is it to sell a screenplay? Did I work in the entertainment industry? Did I meet lots of celebrities?
DIARY OF A HOLLYWOOD NOBODY is partially based on my years working in wonderful world of showbiz. My character, Chris Yarborough, is someone who might have a few similarities to me. This book is based on people I met in Lalaland. I've also incorporated other peoples' stories to make this a better read. Some of the characters names have been changed to protect the innocent … and the guilty. The following excerpt takes place in 1993.
I arrived at the studio and parked in visitor's parking. I went to the admin. building and the person who was in charge of processing over 2,000 invitations wasn't located in the studio head's office.
Marybeth, my contact, was a gregarious young woman in a cream colored pants suit. She smiled and escorted me into a little room containing a copier and office supplies. There was a typewriter on a folding table along with an ancient plastic chair. My job was to type the addresses directly onto the envelopes. No labels were used. The typewriter was old enough to vote and whenever I got any speed going, it jammed. I felt like I was in a bad movie. Every time I hit the CAPS key, the machine locked up and spit out different letters than what I typed! Finally, I told Marybeth about the Jaws-like machine and she tried it. The same thing happened to her.
It was lunchtime, so I could use another typewriter at the opposite end of the building. I grabbed the list, the envelopes, and my tote bag containing my purse and sneakers, and set up in another area. I was a portable temp. Cramped copier room, lunch-going secretary's desk. Didn't matter. Chris, the port-a-temp. Then Marybeth emphasized the obvious:
"Don't get too comfortable."
I nodded and continued lining up the tabs on the typewriter. It was the story of my port-a-temp career--I wasn't ever comfortable. I got told what to do by secretaries and junior secretaries. Even clerks. I did other people's work for less money.
Read the book's description here: Diary of a Hollywood Nobody