What to Do When Your Novel is Adapted into a Pile of Dogshit

A cautionary tale

The non-lunch lunch

I cross the lobby of the Grosvenor Hotel, London, wearing a tailored jacket, court shoes, and an air of excitement. I’ve been invited for lunch with a producer, who has just bought an option on my first novel, The Marlowe Papers. Not the film option all writers dream about. An opera option. But hell, it is a start, right? Who knows where it might go from there? It will spread knowledge of my book and put a little money in my pocket (£1000 minus two sets of agent fees, so about £750). A bit more, if they renew the option, and 5% of net receipts if it comes to pass. Also at the lunch will be the opera composer, who will write the score. It was he who initially contacted me via Facebook with the proposal. This is an exciting new phase of my life, and I am looking forward to shaking their hands.

We will call the producer Dick Swinger. We will call the composer Will Ingstooge. We will call the prestigious European cultural institution they worked with, Krakozhia National …