The Novelist

Hey, Little One

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Hey, Little One
The Sequel (working title)
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2006 - 2007


I started writing this in the summer of 2006, after watching the first few minutes of the film, 'Transporter II.' My story is nothing whatsoever like this film, but the film gave me the inspiration to write a story about a bodyguard, and no, I've never seen Witney's film either. I sat up the same night I got the idea and wrote the whole outline for this novel.

 * * * * *

Samantha was a notorious rock and film star, back in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s. She was forever in the media and not always for the right reasons; yesteryear's Paris Hilton. The world was at her feet and she kicked at it with all her might.

Since the death of her husband and baby, ten years ago, she’s psychologically and physically damaged and lives as a pathetic recluse in the South of France.

Jeffrey, the man who killed Samantha’s husband and baby, is out of prison and looking for her, he wants to finish what he started. Samantha knows she needs protection urgently, and against her will, she is forced to take on a bodyguard.

Pierre is tough and tactless and speaks before he thinks. He is a control freak and a perfectionist in all the things he does. He is also a bitter and lonely man after two failed love affairs some years before..

He is asked to protect Samantha, but there is a problem, he loathes this woman and everything she ever stood for. He is eventually persuaded to take on the job by a high authority figure and engages the help of some old military friends to capture Jeffrey. Pierre may not like who he’s protecting, but he will do the job properly.

Things are tense and problematic at first, Pierre and Samantha have many arguments, one in which he accidentally hurts her. Then he finds out some very disturbing things about her past; abused as a child by her adoptive parents, abused by the showbiz world, and abused by all the men she has ever known, except her husband. He now wants to put things right for her.

He soon finds out that Samantha is sensitive and sweet underneath her cocky and tough exterior. Looking after her is like looking after a little girl and he finds her ways endearing. She isn’t the bimbo he thought she was and she has a wicked sense of humour too. The two of them become allies and friends, as the plans unfold to trap Jeffrey, and Pierre begins to fall in love with the woman he once despised.

Once Jeffrey is put out of the way, Pierre hangs around, but considers that he is too old and has nothing to offer her. He doesn’t want to admit how he feels for fear of rejection and spoiling their friendship.

Samantha trusts and respects Pierre, two things she seldom gives to anyone, especially men. But she’s been closing out the world for so long, that she doesn’t realise how she does feel for him until much later on. She doesn’t want him to leave, he moves her in ways in which no man has ever done so before, not even her beloved husband. Pierre makes her feel content and happy and has made her want to start living again. With him by her side, she feels safe and as though she could let go of the past, but she doesn’t know how to relate to him how she feels.

The two of them are going through a push-pull relationship, getting close and then gently pushing the other away, like two moths dancing around a flame. Both are in despair until Maria, Samantha’s trusty old housekeeper, decides it’s time to intervene.

Now it is make or break time; someone has got to make the first move and declare their love for the other, before it’s too late. Samantha decides to grab life by the horns and practically throws herself at Pierre.

* * * * *

 When I had finished, 'The man with the child in his eyes,' I queried four agencies with it, finding out, afterwards, that one of them didn't even do fiction anymore. I hate the querying part, it is boring and tedious, and I gave up and carried on writing. But there is stuff I want to change with this, and then I am going to seriously start querying this novel again, as I think it is worth it.

My character, Samantha, was so very easy to do. I gave her many of my own traits to deal with life, both good and bad. I made her a recluse and it was obviously a big part of the story. I am a self-made recluse, a social misfit; I only want to be with people when I want to be with them and I don't like being with too many people at any one time. I guess I have been like this since I was very young. I always used to think that it was other people shunning me for some reason and I didn't understand why. I do understand it now, it was and is my own doing; I only want to give myself to others when I feel like doing so. But, if I choose someone as a friend, which I very seldom do, that friend is my friend until the death, unless they betray me in any way, then they are dead to me. I don't like people choosing me and hanging onto my coattails, it annoys me and makes me feel smothered.

I have always loved my own company, my solitude, right from I can remember. I have always been happy to do the things that I could do on my own, like my writing, and when I was younger, drawing and painting, sewing, and most of all, reading. Samantha was my perfect excuse for writing how I, myself, see the world a lot of the time.

When I did Samantha's memoirs and told how she felt rejected and dejected by the Hollywood crowd, I could empathise with her, I could really feel her disappointment, as this has happened to me too. Nope, I'm not claiming that I've ever been in that kind of world, but I have been held to high esteem and had more 'friends' than I could shake a stick at. Oh yes, there were plenty of people who didn't/don’t like me too, but the ones who did, suddenly dropped me like a bag of shit when there was a new star on the horizon. It was just like the old Eagles song, ‘New kid in town.’

Still, that's the way things go, so long as you're entertaining people and making them laugh, they love you, if you stop for a while, they don't want to know anymore and trade you in for the latest model. To be honest though, once the initial disappointment had worn off for me, I was glad to be out of the limelight. I didn't feel as if I had to please anyone, I could just please myself and not give a hoot anymore, which is much more cosier if you prefer your own company anyway.

Samantha is also an ostrich; she buries her head in the sand when things are bad, if she doesn’t think about things, they aren’t happening, or else she uses her sense of humour as her shield against the things that hurt her. This is exactly what I am like; so if you ever upset me, don’t think that I’ll come running to you and ask you to make it up with me, I won’t, I’d more than likely tell you to fuck off and will never let you see how upset I really am. But, I don’t ever stay upset for long, not even with the things that really hurt me, I am too much of an optimist to let people hurt me for too long.

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