A Scritped Life

By Tam Sturgeon

A Scripted Life, a funnily tender-hearted tear-fest, follows the life of a woman who is suddenly transported from an everyday life, in the Home Counties of England, to the heights of the Hollywood Hills. Here we meet Tilly Stiller, an English middle-aged writer who has to keep up with the fast paced world of Film if she hopes to achieve her goal. A dream she never thought would come true, does, and when she attends her first Beverly Hills party, she meets the one man she has always dreamt of meeting.

Charlie Kerman, a West Coast Rock Star, has everything a wealthy man could ever want, yet there’s still something missing. He slowly recovers from his failed marriage, with the help of his best boy, Dev, plus the crew he surrounds himself with, but everything changes when he meets an English novelist at a party. By the end of the evening she has suggested they team up to create the movie’s soundtrack. Charlie accepts, not knowing what the future holds in store for him.

From a working relationship to love is an easy path to amble, especially when you have certain elements in common. Tilly and Charlie have several things to bond over, a lost parent, music, and the way they structure words to produce the desired outcome. As they spend more time in each other’s company, Charlie realises the plain woman is not what she really seems. There are many depths to Tilly Stiller, and he slowly notices he is starting to like quite a few of them. Tilly has as many demons as Charlie, but she just manages her’s in a better way, and when she realises the condition that killed her Dad is coming for her, their lives change dramatically again, and Tilly finds she is living the sad Love Story told in her Blockbuster Movie.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tam Sturgeon
• Release date: Jul 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463632369

Tam Sturgeon

Writing History of Tam Sturgeon1970’sI find myself reciting poetry at middle school in Christmas Assemblies. Pam Ayres a particular favourite (and remembered to this day).1980’sI start writing poetry in Secondary School, after finding a poem in a Sunday Supplement. An emotionally charged home life gives me reason to lose myself when my mother is being all weird and shouty. Poetry takes me away from that. I find it comes easily and is prolific. I write various lyrics and silly ditties for birthdays and weddings.2003-2004I start my first novel, Champagne Hurricane, a rock and roll love story, whilst I’m having an emotional breakdown. The first in the line of my life changing events starts with my Father dying then my first husband leaving me, all within 18 months of each other. I’m awarded Runner-up in a Writer’s Forum Magazine Competition. I start Art College and use my poems as part of my finals. It earns me a Distinction. I find I have enough material to write my 1st and 2nd book of poetry.2004-2009The next three books of poetry are written, one after the other in quick concession. I then relocate to Somerset. The novel is put on the backburner, due to a demanding second husband which ends very badly for me.2010I relocate back to Bucks, finding myself with little to show for my time away. I return to my writing and the first novel, which is finished before the New Year.2011A massive near fatal heart attack in the March leaves me on the verge of another emotional breakdown. I start to write my second novel and take a very level headed look at my life. Being housebound pushes me back into writing once more, and two more volumes of poetry are poured out before the end of the year. A new novel is also started, a Werewolf and Vampire love story, which runs parallel with the second. Six others novels are also dabbled with, but soon fall by the wayside.2012I finish the second, and two more books of poetry are completed. A 10th volume of A-Z Pocket Poetry is then completed. The third novel, still in its infancy, is set aside as the rhythm of the ode becomes my favourite once more. I tell myself the poetry collection will end at volume thirteen.2013With the New Year comes more poetry, the 11th book, 12th, and 13th. Later that year my first novel is ePublished to Smashwords.com and is welcomed with open arms by the readers, gaining 10, 5 star reviews, at this time I also ePublish three volumes of poetry. There is also a 14th book of poetry written. Sadly, it was partly lost due to my hard drive burning out. Some is salvaged, but it remains nameless and unpublished, to this day.2014‘Champagne Hurricane’ continues to gather followers as the poetry collection grows. I spend time in Canada and write the 15th volume, which is then made ready for ePublishing. The 16th book of poetry is started and finished shortly after. Come the Christmas of 2014 I have started yet another novel. Champagne Hurricane is suddenly rendered a trilogy.2015As the storyboard for Book 2, Different Directions, slowly comes alive, more poetry is produced. Lyrics are dabbled with, yet again, and along the way several other projects are started, most of which are all put on the backburner as the novel becomes a constant time-filler. By the end of 2015 Book 2 is a finished novel, plus I have rewritten and renamed Book 1, now known as Never Forever, under The Champagne Hurricane Trilogy title.2016At the turn of the year the 17th volume is started and then finished come the end of spring. A break is taken to travel. Upon my return, things pick up where they left off. The 18th is started, along with the Book 3 in the trilogy, Between Favours. These run side by side and see me through another summer, both finished about the same time. I also start writing a fantasy novel relating to the myth of unicorns and why broomsticks can fly. I get half way and am distracted by the thought I am wasting my precious time with needless thing, i.e. all the stuff I’m cramming into my laptop on a daily basis. I stop writing for the rest of the year, frustrated with not knowing what to do with any of it.2017So, anyway, early in the year I unpublished one novel, due to its lack of interest. I delete it from my back-catalogue, permanently. The 18th volume is then completed before the summer and the 19th is started. With The Champagne Hurricane Trilogy complete, what to do next? I write my first Action Thriller, a Novella, and finish it in a little over six weeks. As the close of the year faces me, I am ousted from my job of three years for highlighting a Toxic Manager case. I am rendered jobless in the New Year, with huge debts and nowhere to turn.2018The first two months of the year are taken up with ill health and what is to become another trilogy. Rewritten for the Young Adult and Teen market, the now gruesome trio, are all based around the same random grisly event but set in different eras, trips from my fingers. This is shortly followed by another short story, which almost touches on Sci-Fi, and is also initially aimed at the Y/A &Teen market, though it could also be enjoyed by anyone into the genre. It is at this point I also finish the 19th Volume of poetry and start the 20th. I diversify yet again, writing my own lyrics to classical and mainstream music. Drawing from my own personal experiences, I compose forty plus alternative ways of wording them. Alongside this, I turn myself into a product and decide I have enough material to approach the Agents and Producers in both the literary and music business.Find me on:TwitterInstagramFacebookThank you

Book preview

A Scripted Life

Published by Tam Sturgeon at Smashwords

Copyright Tam Sturgeon 2018

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed within it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or deceased, or any events

mentioned is entirely coincidental.

Tam Sturgeon asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work.

Cover imagery courtesy of the author.

Cover design by Tam Sturgeon.

Copyright Tam Sturgeon 2018

~

A Scripted Life

Part 1

Out of the Blue

The young, handsome, American had already seen her standing on her own, away from everyone else, disconnected somehow. The older woman seemed a little lost, looking through the window into the beautifully manicured garden beyond. The evening was coming to call. It swept in without warning, its fingers dragging a dark line across the land.

Charlie looked at his friend stood beside him, same age and just as charming.

‘Dev, that woman over there, who is she? I saw her with Martine earlier, why does she look so familiar?’ he asked, his eyes not leaving the lonesome soul still nursing her empty glass.

‘Arh, the English Rose, a Novelist or something, don’t know her name ... She’s over here working with old what’s his face over there ...’

Dev pointed at the very well dressed gentlemen, Clive Duvall, stood talking to a couple of models, some high profile actress, and their hostess, Carmen.

‘Doing a film together, he’s directing ... I heard she’s very good too, helping with the script, so Carla said ... Go over and talk to her, she looks bored out of her clever little skull, take her a drink and introduce yourself ... If nothing else, her accent is kinda cute,’ he grinned at Charlie.

‘European, ya say?’ Charlie questioned.

Dev shook his head, a smile slowly appearing on his face, as he swallowed hard, then coughed, ‘No, no, no, not European, English, dude,’ he half laughed, ‘there’s a big difference ... Remember the English Empire, well, that wasn’t dictated to by Europe until recently ... They kicked Europe’s ass, man, like they nearly kicked ours ... But we kicked back instead right, and we won ... Independence Day, baby.’

As Dev waffled on, Charlie caught a glass of Champagne from a passing tray and smiled at his friend.

‘Well, I won’t bring up any of that, but, I will say hello, like you said ... I’ll catch you later, Dev ... Behave ...’

As Charlie headed towards the figure by the window he had to sidestep two pretty blondes, a Producer, and three of the lovely ladies from the afternoon chat show Live Time USA. He smiled and greeted as he moved, not wanting to miss his chance to speak to the solitary single.

Tilly was still bored, as bored as she had been for the last twenty minutes, so she counted all the large flower pots in the vast garden beyond the glass, there were forty-two. The urge to have a smoke crept in on her, but she’d not seen one of those perfect people sneak off into the garden. Another glass of Champagne had slid into her, but she wasn’t counting, she’d told herself she wouldn’t, it was meant to be a party.

Stood before that window, looking into that fabulous garden in Beverley Hills, that was very real, that was as real as it got, and it was beyond unbelievable. There was almost a wall between them and her. She felt it, the new kid on the block. They looked and smiled, they nodded as she spoke, but they didn’t care about what she was saying or care about her, not really. In Hollywood it was all pretend, that’s what they all did, they pretended at stuff.

She was just another face to stay or go, one day there, next day gone. They didn’t care about that either. Tilly wasn’t stunningly beautiful, she didn’t have a look or a style, she wasn’t sexy and she wasn’t some young starlet. Even though her face was made-up, with her hair in a cascade of dark ringlets, and she wore a flattering long frock, it still didn’t mean she knew how to walk in the heels she was stuck in. They hurt, everywhere.

Tilly was tired, her feet where tired, her art of conversation was tired. Was it too early to leave? Could she run out the front door, when no one was looking, and grab a taxi back to her hotel in the city? Would anyone notice if she just slithered into the dark, an inky snake into the grass with freedom beyond? Could she do it? Could she?

‘Hi, you look as bored as I am ... May I offer you a drink?’ asked the male voice, politely.

Tilly slowly turned to find the handsome, younger, man stood behind her, a drink extended in one hand and a nice smile on his face. Oh, Lord, it was him, in the flesh.

‘My name’s Charlie, Charlie Kerman ... And it looks like you could do with getting out of here for a few minutes ... Are you a dreaded smoker?’ he asked with a lowered voice, his eyes seeming shifty in a funny way.

Tilly could have hugged and kissed him, her face blooming into the first smile she actually meant.

‘Wow, Charlie Kerman, yes, you are ... And, sorry, how rude ... I’m Tilly, Tilly Stiller ... Nice to meet you ... And, yes, I am a smoker, and, boy, could I do with one right now ... Please, lead the way, before I jump through this window ...’

So he did lead the way, out through the vast hallway, across into another room just as stunning as the last, where people milled and chatted as they caught up, then through the double doors and into the garden.

Before them stood a long covered walkway with deep couches and comfy cushions, the smoking porch just right for a quick escape. More guests hovered and bantered, the bouts of laughter a nice thing to hear. That end of the house looked out over the huge pool and tennis courts, the garden still as pretty as on the other side of the mansion.

‘This is where all the rebels hang out ... We’re a dying breed, you and I ... Not many of us left now ... Hey, Jo, yeah, good ... You?’

Charlie talked, walked and greeted as they moved further up the line. Tilly was introduced to more beautiful people, but she still didn’t feel part of the crowd. She smiled and followed Charlie, nodding the same as him. She was slowly catching on.

Tilly Stiller spent the rest of her evening talking to Charlie Kerman. For a younger guy he was very well mannered. She liked that he was a little cheeky and he was rather funny too. More drinks were consumed as the night wore on, their banter and chuckles helping Tilly rest into her new role in life. All those famous people, some she knew by name, others she knew by face, they all said hello to her. They actually saw here when she was with Charlie. She liked that too, the way he made her be seen. Yeah, she liked that, she liked that very much.

‘Tilly, darling, your car’s here ... You did ask that it collect you at midnight ... Your driver is waiting outside,’ Carmen smiled as she walked through the doors to their left. She was wearing a gorgeous teal suit, the colour suiting her beautiful cascade of red hair.

Tilly rose from her seat.

‘Well, it’s been really nice sitting out here, talking ... I’m sorry I have to leave ... Sadly, I have a day of it tomorrow ...’

Charlie stood and extended his hand to shake her’s. When their fingers touched a small shock jumped from her hand to his. It made him smile inside.

‘Tilly, it was lovely talking to you too, really ... Some of these people can’t talk about anything other than hair and make-up, and that includes most of the guys,’ he smiled. ‘So, you saved me a slow death in Fake Town, honest ... It was my pleasure ...’

Tilly blushed, she felt it, but due to the low lighting she prayed it wasn’t seen as she turned to leave. She stopped at the door.

‘Charlie, thank you,’ she grinned, ‘the pleasure was all mine ... See you soon, maybe ... Bye.’

She turned and was gone, her evening over, her warm face cooling as she crossed the hall. It had been a lovely evening, considering how awful it had been at the start. Leaving had been nice too, all the new faces in her life speaking as she passed them saying yeah, see you soon, it all helped.

Having some time with one of her musical heroes had been amazing in a big way, but she had to not think about that, as she climbed into her waiting car to be driven back to her lonely hotel room.

Charlie stood to watch her leave, the sinking feeling making his insides feel cold. He’d never felt that before. He was suddenly standing in a pool of silence, an ache forming where an ache shouldn’t form.

‘Well, you little love bunny, is she the one?’ Dev smiled, joining his abandoned friend.

‘Dev, that accent is kinda cute, you’re so right there,’ Charlie chuckled in reply, finishing his drink as he faced the man beside him. ‘She wrote that book, the one all the ladies are going crazy over ... Even my sister read it and said it was amazing, made her laugh and cry, the best love story ever, and you know her, if she likes it, she loves it ... And that book, well, that book is about to become a movie ... And there’s something else Tilly said,’ he smiled, looking out over the pool area.

‘What,’ asked Dev, ‘did she confess to being a Cougar and offered you a thousand bucks for a night in the sack?’ he chuckled.

‘No, you dirty hound dog, that is not what she said,’ Charlie replied, whilst laughing and looking at his sexually driven pal. ‘Actually, she asked me if I’d be interested in writing some of the music for her project, as she called it ... Seems only right I offer her a helping hand, so I said yes ... Might make a change, and the rest of the boys in the band were looking for a reason to take a break ... This might give me something else to think about for a while, huh!’

Stood in that garden, up in Beverley Hills, with that balmy night and the sound of partying in the background, Charlie smiled to himself. He’d made a new friend, and she was very English.

‘You’re not going to get involved, are you? Not after the last one ... Look how badly that all ended ... You’ve only just got back on your feet again, dude, I don’t want to see you getting hurt again,’ Dev said, knowing Charlie probably wasn’t listening anyway.

‘Come on, Dev, please, I’m a big boy now, it’ll be okay ... It’s just a project, right?’ he grinned.

Dev chuckled, ‘Yeah, and, as I recall ... Didn’t you also say that last time?’

~

The noise in the room was phenomenal, the argument in full swing, the language cringe worthy on more than several occasions. Patsy, one of the Producers, was going into one as Clive, the Director, tried to justify the climbing production costs. When wardrobe was thrown into the mix two more people stood up and it really fuelled the fire.

It was an argument that Tilly didn’t really understand, and didn’t really want to understand. Making a Blockbuster, as Clive called it, was big business that came with a big bill. There were some huge figures being bandied about, and they had far too many zeros attached, Tilly noticed. She also realised that everyone had completely forgotten her, sat there watching. Once again she grew bored, plus her arse was slowly going numb.

After draining the dregs of her lukewarm coffee, Tilly made an exit from the room. No one noticed as the door opened and closed, they were far too busy doing business, and quite loudly as it happens. She walked down the air-conditioned corridor, with its stark white walls that reminded her of a Dentist’s in England, and through the door she pushed, out into the lovely sunshine.

Dropping her sunglasses down from the top of her head, she walked as she rolled herself a quick smoke. Around the corner of the huge hanger she ambled, into the parking area that was quiet at that time of the afternoon. The heat of the day had finally settled a little, the hot streets cooling as the evening stumbled towards her.

There was a space reserved for her, her name attached to the post that stood on the path. That made her chuckle. She had a space but no car. A driver took her everywhere she needed to go, so there was no need for her to have a car. She walked over and stood in her empty spot. Looking around, to see if anyone was about, she dropped down, to lay lengthways, her back to the floor, the sun on her face.

Her smoke was slowly consumed as a hundred thoughts idled through a mind that never switched off. There would be an idea develop and a chain jumped in a matter of minutes, then she’d try to run back to her very first thought she had, seeing if she could find it amongst the others that jumbled around in there.

‘Of all the parking lots, in all the world, you had to lay down in mine,’ came the Bogart impersonation from the path above and behind her, and it was rather good.

Rolling over, she looked up at the face she was hoping she might see again soon. She smiled her best smile, knowing it was just to say hello. When she spoke she tried to keep it light, as if it were a regular thing she did in her parking space.

‘Oh, hi, Charlie, nice to see you again, how’s it going?’ As