Challenge #2 - June table of doom
Title: Everything is Catching on Fire
Lyric(s) and band(s) Used: Everything is Catching on Fire by TMBG.
Word Count: 457
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Glee
Pairings (if any): none
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/etc): none
Summary: Artie moves to LA. A(nother) series of fics based on the "Fingertips" suite by TMBG.
“Well, thank you for the presentation, Mr. Abrams. You seem to really have some great ideas.” You try to smile, but you hope they don’t see how nervous and tired you are.
“Thank you.” You used to try another approach if they seemed hesitant, but now you know when to stop talking.
“I’m sorry,” the young man shakes his head. He must be about your age and he seems reluctant to say no. You saw him eyeing your chair a few minutes ago when you came in front of his table and you hope pity won't play a role in his decision. “You know how the industry is. These kind of things aren’t in demand.”
You sigh. You know this already, but you came to this convention hoping to find someone willing to back your project. You find your way out of the ballroom. It’s the end of a long day.
You make your way to the lobby. There’s people milling around and usually, you would talk to them and see if you've overlooked any possibilities, but you're just exhausted. You know this is the end of the road. If the paid professionals at a sci fi convention don't want your sci fi script, no one will. This script got you an A in Advanced Screenwriting. It got you your diploma and a prestigious award for students. You can't help but wonder if it's all been a waste of time.
You spent the last of your savings on the flight, hotel and convention tickets to be here today. It was a business expense, you reasoned, and it was your last shot. You save your credit card for emergencies and your career hasn't reached that level of urgency, at least not yet. You're not sure what you'll do after today.
In the lobby, there's a large fire burning in the fireplace, despite the fact that it's got to be 90 degrees outside. You actually find it comforting. The hard, artificial air conditioning bothers you. The blasts of cold air hit you like a shot of caffeine, sending shivers down your bare arms. You make your way around the plush chairs that have been pushed too close together. There are no logs in the fire and you wonder about magic for a moment until you remember that gas can be used in fireplaces.
Even though there's a grate in front of the fire, you imagine throwing the last copy of your script into the flames. It won't really mean anything because you have everything saved on your computer at home, in the cloud online and on a flash drive. You have to admit that it would feel so good to watch the pages curl on the edges and turn to ash.
Lyric(s) and band(s) Used: Everything is Catching on Fire by TMBG.
Word Count: 457
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Glee
Pairings (if any): none
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/etc): none
Summary: Artie moves to LA. A(nother) series of fics based on the "Fingertips" suite by TMBG.
“Well, thank you for the presentation, Mr. Abrams. You seem to really have some great ideas.” You try to smile, but you hope they don’t see how nervous and tired you are.
“Thank you.” You used to try another approach if they seemed hesitant, but now you know when to stop talking.
“I’m sorry,” the young man shakes his head. He must be about your age and he seems reluctant to say no. You saw him eyeing your chair a few minutes ago when you came in front of his table and you hope pity won't play a role in his decision. “You know how the industry is. These kind of things aren’t in demand.”
You sigh. You know this already, but you came to this convention hoping to find someone willing to back your project. You find your way out of the ballroom. It’s the end of a long day.
You make your way to the lobby. There’s people milling around and usually, you would talk to them and see if you've overlooked any possibilities, but you're just exhausted. You know this is the end of the road. If the paid professionals at a sci fi convention don't want your sci fi script, no one will. This script got you an A in Advanced Screenwriting. It got you your diploma and a prestigious award for students. You can't help but wonder if it's all been a waste of time.
You spent the last of your savings on the flight, hotel and convention tickets to be here today. It was a business expense, you reasoned, and it was your last shot. You save your credit card for emergencies and your career hasn't reached that level of urgency, at least not yet. You're not sure what you'll do after today.
In the lobby, there's a large fire burning in the fireplace, despite the fact that it's got to be 90 degrees outside. You actually find it comforting. The hard, artificial air conditioning bothers you. The blasts of cold air hit you like a shot of caffeine, sending shivers down your bare arms. You make your way around the plush chairs that have been pushed too close together. There are no logs in the fire and you wonder about magic for a moment until you remember that gas can be used in fireplaces.
Even though there's a grate in front of the fire, you imagine throwing the last copy of your script into the flames. It won't really mean anything because you have everything saved on your computer at home, in the cloud online and on a flash drive. You have to admit that it would feel so good to watch the pages curl on the edges and turn to ash.