Entry tags:
friday.
New icon, new post. I'm not even a particular big Chalamet fan, not gonna lie, I loved him in Call Me By Your Name, but mostly because he was the best part of that overrated movie? I thought he was really well cast as Elio, but the book is vastly superior in my opinion and to this date, I actually would rather read the sequel, Find Me, ten times over than reread CMBYN. Teenage Elio is a bit much.
Anyway, I haven't followed Chalamet's career very closely otherwise, saw him in Little Women where I thought he was very entertaining, too, but other than that? He doesn't generally star in the kind of movies I'm likely to see. Now, put him in a French Indie production? I'd be here for that.
Or, you know, the film version of Find Me. I will forever be sad I most likely won't get to see him opposite a good cast of Michel.
No, the icon is because I'm using Chalamet as PB (faceclaim or "played by") for a new character whose story I'm working on. Haven't written a male character in a while and this story... It feels so personal that I decided I needed some kind of distance to it, a greater one than I could manage if the MC was a girl. Female characters easily get self-inserty for me if the themes in a story come close to ones I know from my own life. It's an ongoing problem I face.
Anyway, I had a batch of Chalamet icons lying around from when I requested them from
The story I got an idea for is inspired by Jardin by Pomme that I linked to yesterday. It's about a French ballet dancer whose father disappeared when he was nine and since then, he's been able to recall most events from his life in vivid detail (some kind of hyperthymesia) which is both a blessing and a curse. One day, he meets Charles at a Opéra charity gala, a tech company CEO, fifteen years older than himself, and they have an immediate connection that leads to them returning to Maxime's childhood town in Provence where he lived until the disappearance of his dad, to face his past as it looks now. The town, of course, has changed over time and the house Maxime grew up in has undergone almost unrecognisable upgrades, and living a month with Charles in this new reality, slowly realizing that maybe his childhood wasn't the picture perfect he remembers, Maxime can embark on a much needed process of starting over after his loss as a child.
That's... the short of it.
Mostly, I felt like writing something set in a modern setting again. Haven't done that in a while.
The first time, the man attended one of the Opéra’s charity galas, or at least the first time Maxime noticed him, though he’d like to think he’d have seen him before, had he been there, he was wearing a burgundy suit that made him stand out in the sea of black and white tuxedos. Like a sepia-hue scene smack in the middle of an old silent film. Maxime had proceeded to make a sport of locating the purple suit jacket around the room, as the night had progresses. If nothing else betrayed how bored he was, that should probably do the trick.
Fortunately, no one could look inside the secret caves of his mind. Whether that’s their luck or his, he wasn’t so sure. Caves are very dark near the back.
At the following galas, and the Opéra hosted a fair few of those a year, the game had continued, and he’d begun scouring the crowd for the tall man with the strong face, always finding him clad in colour. Baby blue one night, a bold red the next, nothing as dark as the burgundy again. He likes being seen, Maxime thought. At an event a couple of months later, he picked the notion back up, and I like looking.
I also have the dialogue down that I think will be the framework for the first scene or a part of it. It goes like this.
“People around here don’t drink G&T’s.”
“This is cognac.”
“I can tell, but the first time you were here, you nursed a G&T.”
“And how do you know that? I don’t even remember what drink I had the first time I attended one of these, it’s been months.”
“10 months. My memory is very good.”
“Must be. I hardly remember where I even stayed 10 months ago.”
He doesn’t ask whether Maxime has been watching him. Because he knows he has, and he likes that.
“Do you travel a lot?”
“A decent amount. My company has several branches across Europe.”
“What kind of company is it?”
“Software. We’re app-developers mainly.”
“Anything I’m using?”
“Only if you’re the kind to learn a new language by phone.”
“Sorry. I’m struggling enough with the two I know already.”
“Doesn’t show. I’m Charles Baudin.”
“Maxime Alarie.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve read the programs.”
“You don’t strike me as someone who’d be attending the ballet willingly, no offense. Then again, you don’t strike me as a tech CEO either.”
“What do I strike you as?”
“Someone I’d like to talk to.”
“Talk to. Is that it? How could you know I’d be interested.”
Meaning, he is interested. Maxime smiles.
“My gaydar is also very good.”
Right now I'm listening to the song that originally made me crazy about Pomme. It's from her first album, in style rather different from her later ones, but her voice was just as amazing back then. And it's just such a nice music video. Some beautiful French landscapes. It's like it's out of a novel from the 50's or 60's.
The visit from my girlfriend's parents yesterday went really well. I was completely knackered afterwards and still am today, but luckily I have no plans aside from some light chores around the house. Hopefully, I can get some writing done.

no subject
I like how descriptive your writing is without falling victim to purple prose. I like your story idea, too!
no subject
I think it's a natural way of telling stories, choosing narratives that remind us of ourselves in whatever way. I like to shake it up sometimes, because it can give me unexpected writing challenges that I learn from, but sometimes it's also just really nice writing what's closest to home, so to speak.
I could totally see him as an elf! He has a really otherworldly bone structure.
And thank you so much! I try to balance it, because I know I can get a bit "much" in my writing so hearing you say it doesn't tip over into purple prose is really helpful!