One of my favorite authors is
Oscar Wilde, because I think he had a great
sardonic wit; and one needs a sense of humor to
survive in this tough publishing industry. I
needed to remind myself of that and took my
laughing perfume spray when I pitched my novel,
FORBIDDEN PASSION, to Hollywood some time ago.
Here was this little tropical mermaid from
Florida, swimming naively in the Pacific waters
with Hollywood sharks. Needless to say, I did
not sell my story at that time. Next time, is
another story!! They gave me two minutes to
pitch it to them. I have sung Spanish zarzuelas
with a tempo that will knock your teeth out, and
as a mermaid, swum under water holding my
breath, but they were ruthless. They gave me two
minutes to pitch the story to them, exclusive of
breathing, and with my running shoes on. I
thought I was playing baseball. I could have
sent them an email with the same results and
saved myself a lot of travel expense.
But I did have the time of my life at the
gala dinner at the Beverly Hilton Hotel, where I
stayed, rubbing fins with the big fish like Tom
Hanks, Steven Spielberg and Jodie Foster. I was
seated quite near them, although relegated to a
dark corner next to stage left. When the
orchestra started playing an old-fashioned
English, quick-tempo foxtrot, a high-spirited
playwright from New Zealand grabbed me and
danced me in the isles. Had it been center stage
we would have been thrown out, not because we
were non-union (California is a union state) but
because we were lousy dancers. Imagine, me
entertaining Steven Spielberg. That's a switch!
After a quick gulp of champagne, I sat down
and behaved myself, then they dimmed the lights
and Tom Hanks got up to speak to Elizabeth
Taylor on his cell phone. I had another
refresher drink when Jodie Foster rose to
receive her umpteenth award. The dinner lasted a
little over two hours, and I had to take a trip,
and I do mean a trip, to the Ladies' Room, which
was past Warren Beatty's table. I was staring at
Harrison Ford when I walked in to the dimly lit
Powder Room and bumped into a nice lady in a
white evening gown. "OOOOps, I'm sorry," I said
to myself in the mirrors. I get a little
flustered when I am surrounded by so much
talent. In walked Carol Bayer Sayer, a great
songwriter, in a lovely black lace dress,
looking like a doll. Classy lady! I said hello
and she nodded. I wanted to sing for her but
figured I had had too much champagne and might
not make the high Cs!
Later, on the way back to my round table,
Arnold Schwarzenegger let me take his picture.
Maria wasn't there. Lucky me! Somebody important
jumped out in front of me with a digital camera,
so I sucked in my stomach and smiled, thinking he
was from Star Magazine, but then found out he
was a waiter. I say "important" because he kept
filling my glass full of champagne every time it
was empty.
When Steven Spielberg walked by my table, I
thought of slipping the synopsis of FORBIDDEN
PASSION, in his pocket, but I decided I had
better not. What if he thought I was trying to
lift his wallet? I did not relish the idea of
spending the night in a Beverly Hills jail, no
matter how cute their cops are. Then Warren B.
walked by my table with Harrison F. I took
another big drink of champagne for courage, and
decided to follow them, but they were going to
the Men's room. I did not want to be known as
the "Fatal Attraction" author from Florida. Not
good for my mermaid image! Michael Douglas was
absent otherwise I would have talked to him
about a sequel for that film, because MURDER BY
ROSES, my next release, would make his career.
Hollywood invited me again this year, but I
didn't go. Would you? After all, there are too
many sharks out there and I am just a little
mermaid swimming around, singing in the seaweed:
"We all live in a yellow submarine..." Do I have
to pay royalties to the Beatles? Where is that
other shark - my lawyer?
Artistically
yours,
Alinka
