Betty got on your nerves. She reminded you too much of yourself a few years ago. Bright, optimistic and hopeful. Not naive but still shiny her dreams of writing in Hollywood not yet dimmed by the cruel industry.

Unlike you she wrote for passion over money. She wouldn't work on formula movies and called you and her fellow writers out when they weren't staying true to the stories they wanted to write.

And to your dismay she found part of a screenplay you wrote years ago. A noir drama mystery called Dark Windows. It was gritty and long and focused on characters and story over spectacle and tricks...in short the studio would hate it. You wrote it a few years ago as a passion project when you still cared and somehow she found it!

She thought it was brilliant. She bluntly gave you a few notes you didn't ask for about the opening and pacing but she insisted that when you weren't working on corporate nonsense you were a wonderful writer.

Week after week she bugged you about it. Wanted you to finish it and consider her notes. She didn't care that you shelved the project...she believed in it...and she was stubborn like that.

And eventually you caved. You groaned and said if she liked the story so much she could have it and finish writing and editing it herself. She looked at you brightly and simply laughed. "Well thank you...but I can't write it alone...Can't we call sometime or meet at the drugstore and write? All my evenings are free!" She said insistently.