It was at that moment I was sure I heard chivalry flatlining.

Now, I don’t believe I ever before in my life uttered the phrase, “Chivalry is dead.”  I’m not a big believer in that kind of bashing, post-2^nd-wave-feminism, general-gender-blanket-statement.  Frankly, I believe in holding the door for another person, no matter the gender on either side of the door.  And especially to CLOSE the door when you KNOW someone is a step and a half away?  HUMAN chivalry may have whimpered in some very serious internal pain that day.

But why did I expect him to hold the door for me?  Whether my hands were full or not, why did I truly believe he would keep the door open for me to at least lean enough against to hold it open for my passage?  Why was I so shocked that he intentionally, physically closed the door? —Well, I still think that’s a little Scooby-Doo-head-tilt puzzling.

I mean, I’m not a damsel in distress.  I’m not helpless.  I am a fairly self-sufficient, self-supporting, can-do kind of woman.  As I am prone to say—I am baby of post 2^nd wave feminism.  I was born into a family of mostly men, but who believed women are no less capable of whatever the question just because they are “girls”—and the women in the family just prove this.  Therefore, why do I expect a man to hold a door for me if he is ahead of me?

Maybe because I would do the same?  Maybe because I am conditioned to think this way?  Because even while I am a self-aware, can- (mostly)-do kind of gal, I don’t mind when a man holds a door, lifts something heavy, or lets me go first—purely because of my XX chromosomes.

So how do I reconcile this with the fact that I am an independent woman, proud of the feminist tradition of women before me?  You and I have talked about this in terms of fashion before.  Yes, I wear stockings and high heels.  I love skirts and dresses and believe in makeup and hairstyling.  I yearn to wear crinoline and zealously try to keep up with my nail care and painting.  Yet, I don’t want to have my wardrobe categorize me as a frail, helpless, oft-fainting woman of earlier time periods.  So shouldn’t I want the door’s opening to always be left to my very own power?  I never deny that I am certainly a contemporary woman.  Sure, my wardrobe and accessories belong to a different time, but I do not.  So, why is it ok for me to let myself be so provided for by the world?

Really, it hadn’t occurred to me until I felt affronted by this man at the door.  Yes, one hundred years ago—fifty years ago—I wouldn’t be able to dream of being somewhere out in the world opening my own door, or pulling out my own chair, but in return there would be a ton of other social norms I would be expected to adhere to maintain the standard of my gender.  So now I just automatically want the best parts?  Now I want to have all the amenities of the world rolled out for me, while being able to act and dress however I like?  I mean, I’m not saying I liked the first arrangement, but isn’t the new solution a bit hypocritical?

Gender roles have long been an area of confusion.  And I think they should be.  As society grows and develops, more ways of simply “being” become acceptable.  I like this.  I don’t want to stifle who you are by being who I am.  I don’t want my pencil skirt-pantyhose-high heel combo to reinforce stereotypes in which you don’t want to participate.  I’m sorry if it seems to you that it does.  I’m sorry if my want of chivalry degrades my desire of feminist strength.

Really, chivalry itself ought to be an outdated idea.  Chivalry is the code for an ideal medieval knight.  And not-for-nothing, but I haven’t seen too many of them strolling the streets of my town, even if some of the streets of my town are still made of cobblestone.  However, are the ideals of courage, honor, and justice unnecessary and outdated?  I hope not.  These sound like awesome things.  These sound like ideals still applicable.  But, has our empowerment of feminism negated our need for chivalry?  Are we at a, “Don’t you dare open the door for me, I am able to do it myself,” place in the great human experiment?  I hope not, if only because my hands are often full.  I hope not, because it’s an act that brightens my day.  I hope not, because I try to always hold the door for another person in return.  I hope not, because to me “feminism” is not about fitting into a prescribed role; it’s about the world turning to you to say it’s ok to be whoever it is that you want to be.  And I often want to be a Faulkner reading, Pulitzer essay writing, sundress wearing, Victory roll making, pie baking, eight pieces of jewelry donning when in public woman.

Then again, maybe I’m over thinking this.  Maybe I should not have been shocked when I looked that man in the eyes as he shut the door in my face.  Maybe this was just a statement.  Maybe this man just really didn’t like the fact that I was carrying in a (reusable) to-go cup of coffee.  Do you think he found it silly and ridiculous and was hoping to teach me a lesson?

The postcard in question is from a young man to a lover overseas, a few sparse lines and a photograph of houses over a canal on the back.  Isabel finds it in a junk shop and is fascinated. “She imagines the young woman […] who received the postcard, and how much she must have read between those few lines, how much she must have longed for him to say more.”  Imagination is one of Isabel’s more prominent traits; she has a memory that describes scenes like photographs and has a love of other peoples’ discarded things.

Isabel is the kind of person who buys mismatched teacups and decorates her apartment in an amalgam of decades.  The present-day and memory sections are told in the same charming and gentle prose, but without Smith’s inclusion of the memories Isabel sounds almost too cute to be real.  She works in a library as a conservator of old books; she decorates her kitchen with vintage aprons and salt shakers; she calls her gay best friend from high school (who wrote his initials in raunchy sections of books) for advice.  Her biggest flaw is a nostalgia for a time she never owned.  “Her recurring dream: finding a small vintage shop set in the side of a decaying building; rows and rows of old clothes to get lost in.”  She has the constitution to be yet another Manic Pixie Dream Girl, but when her hum-drum day gets a spark of news the prose of the present matches the memory sections to create a luminous character.

The “spark” at work is a soldier returned from the war who has caught Isabel’s eye, and his announcement on the day the novel takes place.  That we read Isabel’s memories alongside her day’s routine is a very effective construction, as the events gain more weight as we understand more of Isabel’s character.  Her memories of her childhood in Alaska are beautiful; Isabel seems to be flipping through a memory catalog much like the box of black-and-white photographs she finds in a junk shop as a child.  Isabel’s day—and the book—ends at a party, with Isabel in a newly-purchased vintage dress, thinking of what might have been.  It’s an ending that ties up the book while leaving enough questions for the reader to not be complacent: a snapshot of time with vivid prose.

And yet and yet and yet.  Yet I wanted it to say more than it did; I wanted some revelation, some dramatic change, some climax that would become more than a photograph to look over on a rainy day.  It’s not what the novel sets out to do, and as far as offering a photographic montage of one 20-something woman’s life the novel is a success.  It’s not just that I wanted the book to be longer, although that would have been nice.  It’s that for every section that got to the heart of Isabel’s longing, there was another of her drawing a bath and talking to her cat.  Being obsessed with a time passed is a flaw enough for a cursory glance, but I wanted to know Isabel beyond her collection of clothes.

Taking the novel as it is and not what might have been, however, and one reads an insightful, lovely, mesmerizing account of a woman’s life and the small things that make it meaningful.  Isabel might cherish the objects in her house as much as those close to her, but it is her memories she is really cultivating, and the way they are presented shows as much heart as description can.  An internal novel that never feels claustrophobic, Glaciers is the rare find at the junk shop that I wish had more lines on the back.

When I was a child my favorite toy was a raggedy, stuffed rabbit. He wore something like a harlequin’s costume; though its stripes were so faded it more resembled a white jumpsuit. He went everywhere with me and, as a consequence, posed in nearly every family photo with my younger self. At one point my uncle’s puppy tore him to shreds (he also gnawed the fingers off of my sister’s doll), and my parents promptly replaced him with a clone.

He was by no means a unique stuffed animal. In fact, I’ve heard tales of a few “Bun-Buns” and “Bunnies”, as children are so creative in naming their prized possessions, which sound nearly identical to my own toy. Toys are for the most part generic. It’s a sad truth that your beloved Teddy Ruxpin was just one of several thousand Teddy Ruxpins and that if you lost him at a Teddy Ruxpin themed birthday party, the only identifying characteristic might be a missing eye or a tuft of discolored fur.

Child’s Own Studio is a beautiful, heartfelt solution to that problem. The brainchild of Vancouver resident Wendy Tsao, Child’s Own takes the drawings created by children and transforms them into plush toys. Wendy replicates each drawing with as much detail as possible by varying the patterns and textures of fabrics to match the lines and the coloring techniques of the child artist. She even includes the crooked smiles and the crossed eyes so that when a child receives his toy, he can easily recognize his own recreation looking back at him. Each plush toy is handmade by Wendy to the best of her ability, with the thought in mind that she is encouraging a child’s creativity. Unfortunately, the toys aren’t exactly as affordable as I’m sure my bunny was, but the magical childhood experience each plush grants might just be worth the steep price tag. There is no doubting the amazement a child would feel when presented with his toy, his design. It’s a remarkable and yet, surprisingly simple idea.

I’m sure I would have loved a Child’s Own creation. I certainly had the drawing to inspire the toys. I should clarify that my terry-cloth bunny isn’t any less special. As my mom might be pleased to know, his significance stems from the memories he conjures up and the comfort he brought me, even if his body was mass-produced on a factory line.

Given the recent publicity Child’s Own has received, Wendy finds herself absolutely swamped with orders, orders that cannot possibly be filled without neglecting the integrity of each toy. For the sake of her busy hands and the pleas on her website, I ask that you allow her to catch up on current orders before commissioning one for your niece or nephew. Maybe even consider making one yourself. Just this week Wendy put out a call to the crafty to help her meet high demand. Although it’s her small business, there is no reason others can’t help bring creativity to life.

Ben Loory’s stories are just a few pages each, and some are barely a paragraph in length.  Some are fables, some are fairy tale, some are fantasy and some I wouldn’t put in any of those categories.  After reading another story, each as quirky as the last, I thought of myself trying to describe it to a friend at a rather serious dinner party.  “Well, there was one about a walking tree.  And another one about a man who captures Bigfoot, who turns out to be a pretty nice guy.”  I’m not sure that this would sell me on the collection.  Instead I will have to say that it comes with the praise best befitting a story collection of surreal nature: I was never bored and I never knew what would come next.  Not only did Loory’s subjects surprise me, but the unapologetically simple beginnings did not bear a trace of the puzzling endings many lead to.

In the Acknowledgements Loory writes that the stories came out of a horror writing class, and I feel that this can be used almost as explanation for the oddity of some tales.  They have all of the intrigue and imagination of horror, but come with a chance for redemption through looking at things another way.  The horrors here aren’t walking trees or Bigfoot, but the human (and animal, and inanimate object) reactions to these events.  In the tale of the captured Bigfoot, a mob surrounds the man who captured him and burns his house to the ground.  Not all tales end so dramatically; some have sugar-coated endings that seemed a bit too cute for Loory’s talent.  Most happy endings are fun but not light-hearted, the too-cute ones aside.

Much of what makes the stories stand out in our word-heavy world is Loory’s bare-bones prose.  He presents absurdity with a clarity that makes it unquestionable, while also allowing the humor to stand on its own and the horrors to be that much more isolated.  Here’s a sample of some story openings:

 “A boy meets a girl on the beach, and instantly falls in love.” (The Rope and the Sea)

“Once upon a time, a man went to China.” (The Man Who Went to China)

“A man is walking through the woods, when suddenly he sees Bigfoot.”  (Bigfoot)

“The octopus is spooning sugar into his tea when there is a knock on the door.” (The Octopus)

The short stories are set in three sections, and while they are all interesting they get to be more unsettling in the second and third section.  The first section included one of my favorite stories, in which a duck falls in love with a rock.  The ending is both sad and sweet, and what makes it not just the tale of an awkward duck is the way the characters react to him: they think he’s nuts, and although they will go out of their way to help him they still laugh behind his back.  In “The Octopus,” the reader is left wondering not “why does this octopus have so many spoons” but “what would make him leave his hometown just to sit in his apartment and collect spoons?”  Which could be asked of an odd 30-year-old, instead of a tentacled sea creature.

Women throw knives at each other, but the knives disappear before striking one in the heart; the women walk off laughing to a movie theater.  A boy crawls through a pipe until he ends up in his friend’s room and they both disappear together.  There are a lot of disappearances, and a lot is told through dreams.  The dreams are often more realistic than what is going on while they are awake, but it is interesting how Loory uses the dream state to propel more fantastical action during the day.

Since this story is short enough, I’ll place it here, since summarizing too many tales would get boring:

Once there was a man who was afraid of his shadow.

Then he met it.

Now he glows in the dark.

Now imagine more words, more sea monsters, and some odd dreams, and you have Loory’s collection: thought provoking, light but not fluffy, powerful but not overpowering tales of a world where people see beyond the black and white.  Not every story is great, and a few had unsatisfying endings, but the collection as a whole is refreshingly different.

I go to the Boston Public Library to do work because it is quiet, cavernous, and filled with books that simultaneously help me and distract me. It’s here that I will occasionally sign out a book to read for pleasure, though mostly I use my card to get texts I need for class. I go to the Emerson College library because it’s convenient, opened later (if only by a few hours), and filled with people who will undoubtedly interrupt the work I don’t want to be doing. It’s here that I check out movies, reference books, and again, books I need for class. I remember a time though, prior to college, when I went to the library purely for the excitement value. I would check out whichever books caught my attention, usually more than I could read before they were due back, and immediately flip through the pages on the drive home. I think it was probably in high school that libraries lost their power of mystery for me; if I went at all, it was always with a purpose in mind, a certain book I’d been meaning to read but was too cheap to buy. What I once found intriguing, personal, and to always be adventures, have become dry experiences. And while I do appreciate the physical beauty of books upon books (and of course the historical beauty of the Boston Public Library), the magic of the library, for me, is so rarely experienced.

I’ve come across something though that I think revives all of the spirit of books and goes beyond the usual community experience of the typical public library. Little Free Libraries, dubbed because they resemble a birdhouse but are still an interchange of books and thoughts, are popping up globally. While some are the brainchild of Todd Bol and Rick Brooks, others are independent, sprung from the heart of romantic citizens with a penchant for reading. I have yet to encounter one first hand (from the nonprofit or otherwise), but I’ve got this vision of bringing one to Boston and stocking it with little, unknown literary magazines that might otherwise go unnoticed.

What’s remarkable about Little Free Libraries is that they aren’t watched over by any Librarians in the typical sense of the term. Though you could call the individual who initiates one specific library a librarian, these boxes, posts, and sometimes tables, operate on a trust system. The idea is that strangers may take a book from the shelf, read it, and in due time return it or perhaps keep it, but instead return another book to keep the titles circulating. The little libraries have a magical element; instead of taking a book and walking away, people feel compelled to drop off a copy of their own favorite read.

I’ve heard of all sorts of variants on the original idea, and why not? I once saw a similar box filled with knick-knacks, a sort of take-my-junk-and-bring-me-yours station. What’s to stop people from starting little libraries of CDs, photographs, artwork? The gesture seems powerful to me – a way to bring individuals together, letting people communicate. There’s a distance, sure. You may never meet the person that originally owned the book you are taking, but the action itself is personal. You’re sharing and understanding your neighbors’ value.

I’m already caught up in the allure of Little Free Libraries. They are the manifestation of the childhood intrigue I, and I’m sure others, once had. These are not places you go with a specific title in mind. You go to explore. You walk away with literature entirely unfamiliar to you. There is no questioning that Little Free Libraries will never replace the public library system – I’m certain they aren’t meant to – but they revive they mystery that gradually disappears with age.

What the heck is a pie bird, right?  Why am I such a strange person—strange bird, if you will?  Now, I know I’m interested in slightly unusual items.  I spend long periods of time searching the internet for vintage makeup train cases—which is always just short of an oxymoron for me…searching the internet for vintage pieces.  I love pantyhose with seams.  I have a weird love of shopping for crinoline, and it’s pretty much only my drag queen friends who understand what I’m looking for.  And then there’s the pie birds.  Oh the pie birds.  When I am frazzled, frequently my coping mechanism is to search for pie birds.  I bring them up in conversation, and I am not sure how it is that I manage to do that.  And sometimes when I am making multiple pies (you know, like, let’s say, Thanksgiving), I think, “Gee, I would have liked to have a pie bird in one of these.”  I remind people how I want them.  Multiple people have told me, “I wanted to buy you a pie bird for [insert whichever holiday, birthday, or special occasion recently happened], but there were so many I didn’t know how to choose.”  This is true: there are so many kinds of pie birds.

So what is a pie bird?  Well, it’s a bird you put in a pie.  OK, yes, let me be more specific.  Pie birds first came of use in the 1940s, which is a decade that produced items I am oft-found swooning over.  They are ceramic pieces, often in the shape of a bird, that act as a vent for steam while the pie bakes.  That’s why apple pies have a series of vents cut into the middle, or a cherry pie has a lattice work crust on the top.  The steam needs to escape while baking in the oven.  If the steam does not escape—uh oh, we got problems.  There will be bubbling over, there will be cracks in the crust, there will be disappointment abounding.  Oh, heavens to Betsy, please let your steam escape.

Up until now, I’ve just been cutting vents in the top pie crust like, you know, most of the rest of the contemporary world.  I have also been known to make lattice tops, or another form I call a “cheater lattice”…but that’s for another time.  Honestly, darlings, I’m not sure what the difference is between using a cut vent or a lattice and using a pie bird.  According to my chef boyfriend (whom I woke from a nap accidentally to ask this, because I am a very selfish girlfriend), lattice crusts have been used since the 1600s, first invented by the Dutch.  Pie vent devices (the funnel shaped pieces first used before being made into birds, etc.) were developed in the Victorian Era.

I’m wondering what the difference is.  See, if the world of baking already had a way to release steam, why make a pie bird in the first place?  I mean, I’m not complaining.  It’s more cute-as-get-out brick-a-brack for me to collect.  I can dig it.

Besides, pie birds also have another interesting function.  Besides just letting the steam escape, they also hold the crust up while baking.  This is especially true in more savory baked dishes—chicken pot pies, for example.

Are you thinking this was a useless expenditure of money?  Are you questioning my sanity?  Would it worry you further to know that there are pie chimneys and other varieties of birds and creatures and other things working the same way as a pies bird, and I would like to have many of them?

Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie?  Yes, just you wait.  I’ll do it up that way eventually.  That is, most people figure, where the idea of a bird specifically comes from.  Pie birds are often modeled to look like magpies.  Mine is one of these.

I love baking.  Like most things I talk about in this column, it’s the ritual of baking that I like.  I get frustrated when I’m baking under pressure.  Before the holiday season gets into full swing, I have all these plans for baking and sweets making.  Oh, I have lists and recipes and a head full of hope.  But then, sigh, as time starts ticking down I have to cut the list, and cut again, and make final surrenders as time is running out.  I love the idea before the execution.  I like, while I’m planning and sorting recipes, to think of me in my kitchen and various aprons, rolling out dough and decorating, etc., etc.  Ah.  I love it.  Then, this is not always the reality.

Sometimes it is.  Sometimes I get to just cook or bake at my leisure.  These are good times.  These are times I imagine I’ll use a pie bird.  Cooking and baking is an act of love, therefore I want to love the things I use to bake.  I love my pie bird.  I cannot wait to use it.  Someday maybe you’ll come over, and I’ll be in my pearls and hostess apron, a little ceramic bird poking out from the flaky crust of the pie I have to serve to you.

Click here to listen to an clip of the audiobook for The Third Reich, graciously provided to Side B Magazine by MacMillan Audio!

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Since Roberto Bolaño’s death in 2003, a number of his books have been published posthumously and translated into English by either Chris Andrews or Natasha Wimmer.  As readers we’ve come to expect certain things in a Bolaño novel: a character who is a writer, and commentary on the act of writing; a detached narrator who encounters deranged characters, or a befuddled main character; mysteries; a resolve to the issue that is rarely closure but always climactic.

The Third Reich, the latest Bolaño novel to be translated into English (by Wimmer), does not contain these in the way that heavyweights The Savage Detectives and 2666 led me to expect.  Since this is an early work, however, it isn’t as much a departure from style as a development of one.  There are plenty of the eerie scenes that would clinch scenes in the longer works, and the reader becomes enraptured in the main character enough to look over the oddities.  What the novel lacked in was the climax, the grand moment where the lives of every character involved would alter in some profound way.  There are great moments that edge around one, but the ending was not expected to be so flat.

The plot of the novel is contained to narrator Udo Berger’s diary entries during his vacation in Spain.  Although Berger is a bit of a dullard in the first quarter of the novel, his development throughout the book is fascinating, and the use of the diary to show this was a clever move.  The reader can trace his mental state through the prose of his entries.  Early on Udo writes, “Really, I’ve always been a well-balanced person.”  His entries become more erratic and confusing as time goes on.  He has come to Spain from Germany with his beautiful girlfriend Ingeborg, and they soon meet another German couple Charly and Hanna.  They spend the days on the beach and the nights out at clubs, where the meet up with local shady subjects known only as the Wolf and the Lamb.  In the first quarter Udo’s diary is mostly a documentation of what he has done during the day and reflections on his most recent war games: Udo is a champion of a “Dungeons & Dragons” type sport played out through different variations on World War II instead of on mythical lands.  He is going to write an article that will change the current strategy for a specific war game called Third Reich.  By the middle of the novel this article is well forgotten, and the game becomes an obsession rather than a pastime.

Udo is the last to catch on to the sinister side of the resort town.  Charly goes missing one day after a drunken brawl with Hanna, and at this point the drama and Udo’s own deterioration begin to pick up.

“What did it matter whether Charly was alive or not, whether I was alive or not?  Everything would roll on, downhill, toward each individual death.  Everyone was the center of the universe!  The bunch of morons!”

Udo’s own deterioration is fascinating to read, since the reader only knows what he records.  There are hints of him sleepwalking and terrifying the guests at the hotel, but the reader can only interpret and imagine what has really happened.  More troubling is Udo’s game of Third Reich with El Quemado (The Burn Victim), the man who rents pedal boats out on the beach.  These scenes are the most thrilling while being the most disappointing, like hearing eerie music during a movie when you know nothing will happen.

I saw Pay It Forward when I was too young to cope with the death (spoiler alert) of the main character, Trevor, but the general concept was something my fifth grade self, having never been exposed to the idea, appreciated. It, the “do something nice for someone and they’ll do something nice for someone else” concept, drifted to the back of my mind for several years as I fumbled through puberty and the awkward middle school years which somehow seeped into what were supposed to be the “best years of my life”/high school years. It appears however, to have been suddenly resurrected (coincidentally as I found myself entering college), and now everywhere I look there’s some reference to the unassuming practice, the simple gesture of doing something kind without expecting any reward in return.

Liberty Mutual’s “Do the Right Thing” commercials are a prime example. Though intended to sell insurance, these inspiring advertisements depict one stranger watching out for another, and while Liberty Mutual refers to these simple gestures (helping a woman and child off the bus, raking the leaves of a neighbor, etc.) as responsibility, it might be likely that these thoughtful commercials are inspiring real life deeds, or at least reflecting a society that does take the time to watch out for others, neighbors and strangers alike.

We’ve seen it in the news a lot this past holiday season (or so it seems). Most notably was the movement to anonymously pay off layaway accounts at Kmart stores around the US.  I heard a rumor that the gesture, based largely on generous donations by complete strangers hoping to help parents provide gifts for their children, was propelled via an iPhone app. True or not, it was definitely a viral phenomenon, and for no reason at all, people found themselves the fortunate recipients of charitable gifts. I’d certainly say that those partaking in the act are going well beyond Liberty Mutual’s sense of “responsibility” and even more extreme than Trevor’s hope that people will “pay it forward.” I’m delighted that such random acts of kindness seem to be popping up, and even proud to say that Americans are going above simple hospitality, instead displaying altruistic behavior in what might well be a disheartened society. I’d like to think that we would all grant other’s such genuine, random acts if possible (at least I know I would, were I not a college student struggling to get by) because really the reward is simple. It’s not difficult to presume why stranger are making the extra effort to help others. The reward is knowing you put a smile on someone’s face, helped someone breath a sigh of relief, shocked someone with joy, lifted a burden from already hunched shoulders. Whether you need the gift or not, it isn’t difficult to imagine how you would feel when surprised with a like-minded gesture and letting someone else experience that pleasure is the only real intention behind it all.

Other random acts of kindness include: a coffee shop where people buy one another’s drinks, a man in Chicago who has resolved to perform a thoughtful gesture every day in 2012, a man purchasing coffee in a Starbucks drive-thru for the man behind him, and a woman baking cakes for strangers in Liverpool, England.

Random acts of kindness don’t have to be so big, or newsworthy; but the simple fact that they are things being done, that strangers are thinking about each other, warrants some respect, and it certainly makes me wonder what can I do for the people I meet. A tip for those thinking about reaching out: your kindness won’t go unnoticed when there is coffee involved.

Oh what a difference in image, no?  Of course, I can’t say either look less than glamorous, less than beautiful, less of something you want to celebrate with.  But yet, they are different somehow.

I love champagne.  I don’t drink it often—and that is partly why I am able to continue to love champagne.  Because I also love the idea of champagne.  And really, I don’t want to sully that idea.  Champagne IS a celebration.  It’s a device of commemoration.  It separates today from yesterday and tomorrow.  It’s special.

I’m not saying if you go to a bar and order champagne three times a week I think you’re doing something wrong, I’m just saying that would ruin it for me.  (Of course, I have had a random day here or there where I say, “Today, we will drink champagne for the hell of it.”—though that seems to have the effect of making it special anyway.  Also, while we’re mid-aside, if you are going to the bar frequently to request bubbly, make sure it’s an upscale establishment.  Otherwise, you’re a-gonna get laughed at, my sweet.)

So why such fuss over what glass it comes in?  Because champagne is worth being fussed over, because it represents moments worth being fussed over—holidays, weddings, accomplishments, markers in your life calendar.  Now, what glass are we going to put it in?

Besides the saucer/coupe and the flute, we do have a third option: a white wine glass.  Apparently, this is acceptable sometimes and some places.  My question, as someone who loves formality and process, and has worked for years at a high-end restaurant, is this: who DOES that?  Why are we ruining the pomp and circumstance of champagne? Then again…I have taken sips of bubbly from paper cups and the classier version of paper cups—red Solo cups.  This New Year’s I drank champagne from a Moscow Mule cup.  (Oddly—while it’s a silly feeling to drink the champagne from a Moscow Mule cup, the idea of a special copper mug for one particular drink is very awesome and fits right into my specialized tool mind set.)

I must tell you, I’ve long wondered from where this change in glass shape came.  I understand sometimes things go out of vogue, and in their place new things become the fashion.  Usually, though, there is a reason for this—sometimes a reason of function, sometimes, I suspect, just to get you to buy more stuff.  I’m fine with both—I think it’s a “to each his own” kind of thing.  But it turns out, this change from coupe to flute was actually function, not purely fashion.

The champagne coupe (by the way, part of me really likes to call this one a champagne “saucer”) and the champagne flute was actually an effect of the style of champagne we imbibe.  The coupe was the popular choice from the 1920s through the 1960s.  It was developed in England in 1663 for some nobility or another.  The rumor always was (and I had heard this too, and believed it prior to my research) that the coupe, with its broad bowl look, was designed after the breast of Marie Antoinette.  I feel a little sad to know this isn’t true.  However that phrase you may or may not have heard (or you may or may not find offensive), that a woman’s breast needs to be no larger than to fit in a champagne glass, it makes a whole bunch more sense when you realize this is about a coupe, not a flute.

Of course, the main use currently for champagne coupes is wedding receptions.  Ah, how classic.  And you know you’ve seen the stacked pyramids of champagne coupes having the bubbling bubbly poured through the top, to fill the rest of the glasses.  Lovely.  And once upon a time these glasses were very popular during Prohibition, when owners would send them and a bottle to their v.i.p. clients at places like The Stork Club.  Glamorous.  So why have they gone out of fashion?

The champagne that was popular and regularly used from the 20s to the 60s, was sweet and consequently did not have as many bubbles.  In the decades after the 60s, when popular champagnes changed to drier varieties, sadly, a saucer wasn’t cutting it anymore.  The wide mouth of the champagne saucer allows bubbles to escape very quickly.  This is, as we would say in my restaurant’s kitchen, no Buenos.

Now, enter the flute.  This glass is much taller and quite narrow, especially at the mouth.  This shape provides smoother glass.  This shape and texture keeps the bubbles in the champagne.  And that, frankly, is rad.  The stem in longer in the flute, you hold the glass by the stem, you affect the temperature of the drier champagne less.  Also, more flutes can be carried on a tray, which might not affect your life any, but it certainly helps in my side job—especially on days like New Years and Valentine’s.

Oh wait—Happy New Year!  Oh, have I forgot to mention it?  This is mostly why we’re talking champagne this week.  That swish in a Moscow Mule cup got me thinking about all this.  Well, that and also that I stumbled upon a little blurb about pink champagne in that GQ I referred to in my very first Retro Recon (“Let’s Wear Hats and Gloves”) column as I was going through the year’s old mags.

I have always had a love for pink champagne, and I don’t know why.  There is some feeling that goes with it that I just couldn’t place or name.  Then I read it.  GQ said that pink champagne feels like someone is taking care of you.  Oh yes, that is it.  It does.  Again, it feels special.  It’s rare.  It’s thoughtful…I just don’t know what glass to put it in.  Oh, it’s never ending.

But at least we have one part settled.  Because while, yes, I would like to be drinking from a champagne coupe à la a post WWII celebration, I do not want my bubbly to be bubble-less.  It’s all event specific, isn’t it?

Maybe we should be relieved I don’t often drink champagne.  It’s enough for a head spin before the bubbles even get to me.

Humphreys’ father works in film and TV, including the beloved and long-running “Doctor Who.”  Humphreys’ brother, Michael, also went into the same field, but as an actor—and from the knowledge I have gained, we should prepare to see Michael Humphreys’ big break-out soon as well.  The mother of the Humphreys boys takes a different approach to her love of cinema.  According to the screenwriting Humphreys, “She prefers to enjoy the industry at its best from the non-judgmental world of her living room.”

After growing up in South Wales, Humphreys went to London to study screenwriting at Met Film School.  Of his time there, Humphreys says he, “Met some great writers, and great people, all of whom tick both boxes.”  Then he smiles.

Thomas Humphreys is an upbeat, good humored, well-intentioned kind of guy.  He’s also witty, intelligent, and well-spoken…all of which you’d hope for in a screenwriter.  Follows is our interview about Humphreys’ current project (an adaptation of the novel “For Nothing), his writing process, his personal life, and twitter.  You are sure to want to follow Humphreys on twitter following your reading, so why don’t you get a jump start now.  His twitter handle is: @Mr_Frodo_esq.

LAURA HALLMAN: I’m always amazed at the complete variety of answers this elicits: what is the first moment you can remember when you knew you were meant to be a writer?

THOMAS HUMPHREYS: I know what you mean; I have heard some amazing answers to this very question. My answer is definitely not going to be one of those… But please bare with me; there is a “moment”…  As a child I always had a creative mind and I would secretly write short stories, poems… even tried my hand at song writing — which when they were found years later by my mum, I think she did wonder if I had been hugged enough as a child. I had a dark, dark mind. But yes, you asked about that “moment.” Well that moment was the exact moment when I realized that, “Hey, this film I’m watching didn’t just happen, someone sat down and wrote it.” Even now when people ask me what I do and I tell them I’m a screenwriter, they give me that exact same look as I had when I realized that someone spent eight months, a year, sat in an office wrestling to get this script perfect, pouring their heart and soul into creating an entire world out of absolutely nothing but an imagination. That’s what I love about anything creative, especially screenwriting; you are creating a world, putting people in it, making them happy, sad, love, and lose. You are creating real emotion in people that only really exist in your head, until you let them out.

LH: Let’s talk about “For Nothing”: How did you get involved in writing the adaptation of Nicholas Denmon’s novel? Were you approached or did you seek it out? Had you read the book before writing it–I’m assuming you eventually read it to in fact adapt it.

TH: Where do I start with Nicholas Denmon? I was introduced to Nick about a year ago through a mutual friend; we connected on that wonderful writer’s tool, Twitter. He was an author, I was a screenwriter, so eventually his book came up in conversation, I was already working on a couple of scripts of my own at the time and in, I think, May of this year I flew out to Florida for just under a month to get away from the distractions of life here and concentrate on rewrites. I find my own company is a lot more bearable in 90 degree heat, sat next to the pool at the house there. It’s somewhat of a writer’s holiday (with some golf and of course the NBA play-offs thrown in for good measure). While I was out there Nick mentioned that he was toying with the idea to turn the novel into a screenplay and asked if I would be willing to read it and give him my thoughts on whether or not it would translate to screen. I think, and don’t quote me on this… (quite a redundant statement in an interview)… Nick emailed me the PDF (I still haven’t received my paperback copy yet…I’m not bitter) on my last day there, and I told him to give me a couple of weeks and I’d have it read and send him my thoughts. That was the plan anyway. I was getting the red-eye back to the UK. I sat on the plane, thought I’d read the first few pages to wet my appetite, fast forward 7 hours, I’m still awake, the novel is read and I’m writing a treatment for the screenplay on the plane.  Nick’s writing style is very unique, his attention to the smallest of details is impeccable and for me, as a screenwriter, that was a dream. Needless to say, we ironed out the details and I was given the go ahead to adapt the novel into a screenplay.

LH: “For Nothing” is a mafia novel that takes place in upstate New York.  Normally, mafia tales take place in big cities like New York City, Boston, Philadelphia, or Chicago.  How do you think moving the story a few hours away from the city makes it a unique book?

TH: You’re right; you do expect these types of stories to take place in high-rise cities with mob bosses strategically walking past the rising steam from the city streets. I think that with the story being set away from the city, it allows a new depth to the story and cancels out a lot of the stereotypes that one expects from Mafia stories. Also from my perspective, writing the screenplay, it made the traits of some of the characters a lot more believable and natural, yes, it’s a novel with shootings, death, hired hits, money and corruption that you expect from such a novel but it’s entangled with subplots that require specific characteristics for them to be “real” for the reader/viewer. Also, for me, it definitely gave a brilliant contrast to the story, and the focus was directed more to the plot and characters rather than the environment they were existing in.

LH: Is there a working relationship between you and Nicholas Denmon?  Do you talk about your work to him?  Does he talk to you about his writing process while writing the novel?

TH: The simple answer is, yes. Nick and I have become good friends through this process, obviously he had some apprehension, as anyone would, handing over a novel that he’d spent probably about 4 years writing, to this guy from the mountains of Wales who was going to take it apart and then reassemble 300 pages of novel into 120 pages of script, he didn’t show it, but I think he was nervous. We do talk pretty much daily though, and Nick did read some of my previous scripts prior to me starting this project. The most satisfying thing for me was, he gave it to me and that was it, he didn’t want daily updates about whether anything had been changed or what my plans were with it. He didn’t even read the treatment; he had the confidence in my ability to allow me to do what I thought was best. I did consult him on a number of things throughout the process, at the end of the day, it’s his baby, I want him to be happy with the final product. In regards to his writing, Nick is in the process of writing the follow up book “Buffalo Soldiers” which is due out in the New Year. We do talk about it, and we do bounce ideas around for it. I think it’s beneficial for both of us to have that kind of working relationship, you can see what works and what doesn’t before you commit it to the page.

LH: “For Nothing” the book is well received.  On Goodreads (which I use quite a bit), it was rated 4.62 stars by readers.  That’s a great start for a first novel.  Do you think that will affect reaction to the film?  Do you think that grants an automatic following, or do you think it adds pressure to do it well?

TH: Yes, the book is doing great things, even my Mum has read it, and she is not usually a fan of the Mafia and contract killings. She’s also read the first draft of the script and after telling me off for including the “C word” that’s not in the book (yes, I’m 28, honest), she loved it.

It’s the old curse of the adaptation, what every screenwriter dreads to hear… “Yeah, loved the book, film was disappointing.” We have both had a lot of comments and discussions with fans of the novel, and they are extremely excited with it being adapted to screenplay, so yes, there is a lot of pressure to deliver a final script that gives them everything that the novel gave them. Those fans will always be your biggest critic, which I think is great, if you can please them, you know you’ve done a good job. It is an added pressure, but working on any project that already has a fan base is a priceless situation to be in. My main focus from the start of this project has been to end up with a script that I’m proud of and one that does the novel the justice it deserves.

LH: Do you think there’s anything to boost the adaptation from having an American writer for the novel, and an English one for the screenplay?  Do you have a different view of it?  Do you think that adds to the sum of the work as a whole, or was it something you had to work past?

TH: Well firstly, I’m Welsh, not English. Suppose that’s a little like saying Nick is Canadian? (Laughs.) From what I understand, Nick grew up in Buffalo, I don’t think he was a gun touting Mafia type, but he did have firsthand experience of locations and a vast knowledge of Mafia history for the area which shows in the novel. The screenplay is definitely a slightly different tone, for the exact reason you stated, we come from different worlds, Nick is over there sunning himself in Florida, I’m sat on a rainy mounting, locked in my office writing 12 hours a day. I had to see Buffalo through the eyes of the novel, so I guess that’s remained pretty consistent throughout the adaptation, but the characters have evolved in my head, each one has its own unique personality and traits and I’m always adding, swapping, experimenting with different archetypes for these characters. One character in particular I think will surprise Nick when he reads the 2^nd draft as he has changed considerably… He doesn’t know this yet.

[Here I apologize profusely, and feel rather foolish, for completely letting it slip my mind that I knew Tom is Welsh and not English. Tom is gracious enough to tell me he’s been called worse.]

LH: What was your favorite thing about “For Nothing” the novel?  Were you able to capture that in your screenplay?

TH: Where do I start? I like how it puts a guy who once had everything into an impossible situation where he’s constantly made to decide between the love of his life and his lifelong friend. How does someone choose between the two? It brings great internal conflict, does someone choose his wife that’s there in front of him and live to regret never knowing who took away is friend, or does he put his energy into revenge and risk losing everything? To the world around him it seems madness, but to him it’s real. When writing the script I stayed as close to the line of the book as I could, obviously there were big changes that had to be made for it to work on screen and there was a lot of back-story to contend with. Nick LOVES his back-story—that was the biggest hurdle for me, getting all these little bits of vital information on screen without being lazy and using exposition or flashbacks. The first draft of the script did capture all the fundamental elements that made the novel great, some of the personalities and traits have been slightly altered to give the characters more depth on screen. But all in all I was extremely happy with how the draft came out.

LH: Is the internal character struggle you found in “For Nothing” something you generally want to write about?  Is this a reoccurring theme for you?

TH: I would definitely say it is a recurring theme with my scripts. The majority of my scripts are plot or character driven, and I think internal conflict with a character is very powerful, especially if an audience can relate to that conflict. They begin to put their own feelings, that they themselves have experienced, in place of the characters, and when an audience does that you know they will immerse themselves into the story. It becomes real for them, and as a writer, I want to create a world that the audience can live within. Having an antagonist in a screenplay is standard, every

film has at least one, but when the protagonist is his or her antagonist this makes for great conflict and a gives the opportunity for a much larger character arch throughout the script.

LH: At what stage is your script for “For Nothing” currently in?

TH: It’s currently mid-way through the second draft. The first was sent over to the States in mid October and, to my relief, came back over with glowing feedback. It was the calm before the storm of the rewrite… Turning a 300 page novel into a 120 page screenplay, while keeping the flow and dynamics of the story and the depth of the characters is not an easy job, which was proven when the 1^st draft was finished and it was 187 pages. Since then there’s been a lot of banging my head against a wall as I cut scenes that didn’t work on screen and added scenes that were required. At this exact moment, as I have had a break from the script for this interview, it is in the process of a complete rewrite, back to a blank screen and start again… This should be finished in probably 2-3 weeks and should bring the script under the 120 page limit.

LH: I know you are what’s commonly referred to as a “film buff”–which isn’t mandatory in your line of work, but it ought to be. When you’re watching a movie just for fun, what kind of movie are you usually watching? Do the genres of movies you watch differ depending where you are in your writing process (i.e. do you watch something different when you’re writing the rough draft from when you’re editing)?

TH: I love movies… Was that a little too excitable? But I do… My favourite film, probably of all time is, “The Book of Eli.” Gary Whitta’s style of writing is incredible. I’ve watched the film, I’ve read the script, I’ve read the script while watching the film… It’s as close to a perfect harmony between a writer and a director as you can get. I’m a huge fan of comedies. When I first started writing scripts, they were mostly comedies. The movies I watch don’t differ depending on the process, but they do differ immensely with the genre of script I’m writing. This may sound a little bizarre, but if I’m writing a comedy script, I will mostly watch drama’s, gangster films, anything but comedy and vice versa. While writing “For Nothing” most films I watched were comedies. I find that if I’m writing a comedy script and watching a lot of comedy films, you tend to always write maybe a really funny line of dialogue or a great comedy moment and you read it back and say, ah there was something very similar to that in “Office Space” that I saw last week… So I keep the two things very separate.

LH: Movies are escape.  Are you able to still find them as such, or are you lost in the construction of script and the technical aspects of the film?

TH: If I’m honest, I am awful to watch films with. I am one of those annoying screenwriters that sits through a film and the poor soul next to me with have to endure me breaking it down for them, explaining to them plot points and inciting incidents and scene construction. People watch a film and see a guy in a bar having a drink, I see INT. – QUIET BAR  – DAY and the fact that his ring finger has a slightly faded white mark. But that’s how I like to enjoy films. Yes, I can sit there and just watch a film at face value, but I like to watch a great film and see beat for beat how its constructed and why each element is there for a specific reason. That’s the great thing about films, there is never a single scene in a movie that isn’t put there for an exact reason, there’s no filler scenes thrown in to make up the screen time, everything is there for that one single bit of vital information that it gives the audience. I think every screenwriter will tell you the same, if you’re not deconstructing films in your head and analyzing the scenes… You should be.

LH: If you could suggest one film to illustrate a great script in action to a lay audience, what would it be?

TH: It’s a huge task to just choose one, there are so many. I can think of 5-10 just off the top of my head, but for the sake of the question I shall narrow it down to just 2. I have to mention both of these as, in my opinion, they are two of the greatest scripts written. “The Book of Eli” is an absolute masterpiece and a rarity in Hollywood in the sense that the film is pretty much scene for scene the exact same as the original first draft of the script. The next has to be “Heat.” If you are looking for perfection in terms of scene construction then this is a must read, probably one of the most intelligently constructed scripts I have ever read.

LH: I have heard several hot twenty-something writers talk openly about the importance of a writer’s personal interaction on social media.  You obviously participate–I myself frequently converse with you on twitter, and you mentioned first coming into contact with Nick on twitter.  Your twitter stream is engaged and interesting–is this something you think about, or do you just tweet?

TH: Firstly, thank you, I never thought it either of those, just the random musings of a guy trapped in his own company. In all honesty, I just tweet. I think it is a fantastic tool for any form of writer, where better to gain inspiration, advice, motivation, contacts and friends? As my followers know, I tweet a lot and I also converse a lot with other writers (like yourself), producers, directors and actors. I think it is extremely important to network with other people, and I love my timeline. I have some very interesting people on there, and without sounding to cliché and cheesy, it can have that family vibe. Everyone is excited for everyone else’s projects, successes.

LH: There seems to be two diverging thoughts among writers when it comes to workload: 1) focus on what’s in front of you and become immersed in it. 2) More and varied projects make you better.  Where do you fall?  Do you think this is a horse of a different color in screen writing from traditional literature?

TH: I’m very much the former, I am totally committed one project. If I’m not at my Mac working on the script, then I’m sure as heck thinking about, every character detail, the story, could I have done something different in the transition between acts 2 and 3, would that character say that, if not what should he/she be saying… I think if I was to work on several projects at once my head would implode. When I write a script it does live in my head 24/7 until it’s complete. A fine example of how immersed I get – There have been several occasions when a friend or family member has said something, and I have instinctively said “Yeah, I know someone exactly like that” or “That happened to a friend” and then a few hours later I come to the realization that that person I was referring to was a character in one of my scripts, it’s a tangled web of fiction and reality in my mind. I do know screenwriters who will work on 2 or 3 scripts at a time and that’s great, but doesn’t work for me. I will however always keep fresh ideas for other projects, write short synopsis’ or write notes about maybe a situation I saw or a person I saw with an interesting trait that I’d like to use for a character, and I keep my “Sleep Book” by my bed. Every night I will leave the notes app open on my phone and any ideas that come to me in the night are put straight in. There have been some interesting ones.

LH: Describe your writing process.

TH: My overall writing process – from concept to final draft, for my own scripts, is pretty straight forward. I will have an idea, or maybe an image of one scene that I want and I’ll just make short notes or bullet points. I’ll build on the idea in my head for a few weeks until I get a clear picture of what I want and then I will sit down and hammer out a 10-15 page outline. Next I’ll create a character profile for every character: likes, dislikes, frequently used words or terms, who they are, where they have come from, who their parents are, what kind of childhood they had. Before I write I like to feel like I’ve been that characters best friend for 20 years and know every single flaw, everything about their life so far. Then once that is all done it’s a case of writing the first draft, once that is complete I leave it a week or so, read it and then begin rewrites, this can be 3 drafts, 4 drafts, 8 drafts… I will rewrite until I am 100% happy with the final script.

With the adaptation of “For Nothing” it was a lot different. I already had the story, I had the characters, and the treatment was done by the time I’d landed at Gatwick. I still wrote my own character profile based on my perspective of them from the novel, which wasn’t used thoroughly in the 1^st draft, but is my main tool on the rewrite. The process involved a lot of back and forth between the script, the novel, my notes and some of my own research.

In regards to my daily writing routine, I’ll get up at 7:30am like anyone else who goes to work, but rather than putting on a suit and driving to an office, I take a few steps from my bedroom to my office and start to write. Most days I’ll write for maybe 10-12 hours. It is hard work and a lot of people (outside the writing world) don’t realize that it’s such hard work. I often get, “I bet it’s great, lay in bed until noon and then lounge about on the sofa watching TV and writing,” when in reality it’s being locked away, chained to a laptop day in day out. Don’t get me wrong, I love it and wouldn’t change it for the world, but it’s not all glitz, glamour and long days in bed.

LH: Most writers–including me–have experienced strain on their personal relationships from the passion, commitment, and hard work of writing.  I think a writer needs a strong other person who is supportive and understanding–but also knows when their significant writer other truly needs a break and helps to make it so.  Your girlfriend, Amanda, certainly seems this type.  Was she aware of–so to speak–what she was getting herself into right away by dating a writer, or was this a learning process?

TH: I completely agree, like anything in life you need to find that balance, and in order to find that balance you do need to have a partner that “gets it”. I heard a great quote once; it kinda sums up this question: “What no wife of a writer can ever understand is that a writer is working when he’s staring out of the window.” I think it was Burton Rascoe – and it’s very true. I do some of my best writing when I’m not actually writing. I’ve been very fortunate and found someone who is my biggest fan and loves what I do. She is always excited to read synopsis’ for future scripts or read my drafts but also knows when to hit my emergency stop button—I regularly joke that she is the world’s greatest distraction, and I do need that. Her support does mean a great deal to me and I am very lucky in many ways to have her in my life. I think dating a writer is a continuous learning curve; we are the first to admit we are a rare breed of humanity.

I have been very fortunate in respects of support and understanding. Along with Amanda, I have two of the most supportive parents and brother that a person could wish for, and they have been the main catalyst in everything I have done. They are the type of people that I could say to them tomorrow that, I’m off to join the circus and become a lion tamer, and they would be in the front row on my first night watching me getting eaten alive, all in tears with pride. To be sentimental for a moment (this doesn’t happen often) I could never have achieved anything that I have without their support. Some people are given a great foundation, some are fortunate and are also handed the building blocks. I was blessed to have a family that gave me a solid foundation, handed me the blocks and helped me stack every single one, and for that I will be eternally grateful.

LH: What are things you hope will come in your career?  Do you have an idea about the body of work you’d like to amass?

TH: I don’t want to sound too humble, but I don’t write for fame and fortune. I love to write, I love to entertain people. I have been given some amazing opportunities and so far I think I’ve made the most of them I possibly could. I don’t look to far into the future, I’m a very now and present kinda guy. The future will happen when it happens. For me 2012 is as far ahead as I’m looking. If you pushed me, which I know you want to, then the dream would be, as with any other screenwriter, to make it in Hollywood and get that feature film with the A-list actors bringing your characters to life. I’m not afraid of hard work, so every-day I will be grafting, doing just that little bit extra. I just want to have a body of work that I can look back on and be proud to say I wrote. They next year or so is looking very exciting, so I’m just working hard every day and will continue to make the most of the fortunate position I am in.

LH: Here’s your trite question of the day (that I still think is valuable anyway): What advice do you have for new writers, young writers, writers who are still finding themselves and their voices?

TH: The best advice I was given was simply: just write, write every day, even if you can only spare 10 minutes, get a few words down on a page. It’s like anything else, the more you write the better you get. I know writers that have full time jobs, but they still get up at 5am and write for 3 hours before leaving for their day job and then write late into the night when they get home. If you want to build a career in this industry as a writer, you need to be committed and nothing should get in the way of it. Also, I think connecting with other writers is invaluable, whether it be at a local writers club or through social networking. Twitter is a goldmine for networking with other writers, all of whom, including myself are more than happy to give advice or merely just talk about writing. It can be a lonely at the beginning, so having a supportive group of likeminded people around you is a great comfort, and you always have someone to bounce your “new big idea” off and get instant feedback. Make the most of the resources around you and most importantly, don’t be afraid to talk people about your writing and scripts for fear of it getting stolen. There are only two types of script that will NEVER have a chance of getting produced– those that are never written and those that sit gathering dust on a shelf.

LH: What’s next for “For Nothing”?

TH: This draft will go to back to the States in mid January. It’ll be read, critiqued, have red pen marks scribbled over it and then back over to me… I’m confident we should have the final product in maybe 3-4 drafts, which I think should be around February-March time. Then it will go back to the States to be “shopped around”. We have had some interest already, but neither Nick nor I are willing to commit to anything final until the script is complete and we are happy with everything. It’s been four years of hard work to complete the novel, and it will be almost a year that I will have spent on the adaptation, so once it’s done we are going to be pushing it hard in America. Gauging from the amount of emails both of us have received with requests for the script, we are quietly confident that we have a pretty good product, and a really great writing partnership.

LH: What’s next for you?

TH: 2012 is going to be even crazier than 2011 by the looks of it… “For Nothing” will be making its way around the production houses. I have several other scripts that are going to be doing the rounds, both here in the UK and over in the States. I’ll be in Cannes for the film festival in May, heading there with my wonderful girlfriend; I think you know you have found someone to hold onto when they are just as excited to go to Cannes as you are. Then I’m going to be in LA hopefully in September on a working holiday, networking, meetings etc.  I’ve also promised Amanda that we will have a proper holiday, so heading to the house in Florida for a couple of weeks, and she will be hiding the Mac for my own good, I hope!  Also, and this hasn’t been broadcast anywhere yet, not even on my twitter (laughs)….  As I said earlier, Nick is in the process of writing “Buffalo Soldiers”, the follow up to “For Nothing.” We are currently in the process of ironing out the details where I’d adapt that into screenplay too. So as the “For Nothing” script goes to America, the “Buffalo Soldiers” Novel will hopefully be coming this way.There’s no such thing as a day off anymore, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.