Casting horses

One night, over the summer, we were down at The Bridge Inn, necking pear cider (well, I was) at a ferocious rate. At some point in the evening I recall talking to a local lad who had just finished his A levels. He was going to take a gap year before going to film college (though he was so talented he’d already been offered jobs).

‘Hey, Conor,’ I slurred. ‘You know what? You could do a film trailer for my book, Samael.’ I vaguely remembered foisting my email and the URL of my blog onto him and, come the next morning, I was wincing at the memory.

‘God, what must he think of me?’ I wailed to Adrian. ‘I’m sure he’s got much better things to do.’
‘I wouldn’t worry,’ Adrian replied. ‘You were so wrecked, he probably didn’t take you seriously anyhow.’

But he did. He had researched the book trailers that are already ‘out there’ and gave them all a distinct thumbs down. ‘Rubbish,’ he said, decisively. ‘We can do much better than that. How about I and my mate Guy come over and talk it through?

So there we were, around my kitchen table, discussing actors and locations and key scenes from the book. ‘It’s so cinematic,’ said Conor. ‘I could see every scene as I read it,’ agreed Guy. ‘The problem is going to be choosing which scenes to leave out.’

They quizzed me minutely. Did I have a specific house in mind for Borthwelm? Was the ford at Shadowcombe based on a particular place? Exactly what colour hair does Gen have? What kind of motorbike does Samael ride? Which part of the moor would Gen and Zeke be galloping over? Did I reckon Guy would work for my vision of Samael, the demon/angel? With contact lenses, of course. Oh yes, absolutely.

Conor seemed particularly keen on putting poor Guy through the mill. ‘That scene where Samael flings himself at Gen’s window in the storm,’ he said. ‘That would be amazing, with water pouring down your face  of course,’ he grinned at Guy who looked, bizarrely, totally enthusiastic. ‘Oooh, and the bit where the hand comes up through the water at the ford...you’d do that, wouldn’t you?’

Guy nodded happily and, much as I hated to rain (ahem) on their parade, I had to remind them that, actually, it’s a female hand that does the coming up through the flood waters. And a female head that is hacked off with a spade.  They looked vaguely disappointed.  

But, undeterred they discussed the mad gallop across the moor. I could feel myself starting to get the bit between my teeth (sorry) – it had to be a large bay gelding and a neat chestnut mare. Ye gods, was I really starting to cast the horses? For a book that hasn’t even got a publishing deal yet?  This had to be the most insane case of putting the cart before the (last pun, I promise) horse.

Yet, as we discussed it, it started taking on a life of its own. The wonderful thing was that, listening to them, I remembered that (despite the rejections it’s had so far) it IS a darn good book. More than 100 teen readers (and several hundred adults) can’t all be wrong surely? But I felt honour-bound to warn the boys that there was no deal in sight as yet.

They didn’t seem remotely fazed. ‘It’ll happen,’ said Conor cheerily, scribbling down more key scenes on his pad. ‘If it doesn’t – we’ll just have to make the full-length film instead.’

Can’t argue with that.