Hi there,
I'm Elm, and I've been writing for over a decade. I'm just returning from a three month hiatus where my creative bug withered up and died. But I've been feeling more inspired recently and think I could revive it with the right person. Could it be you? Lets see...
I'll be quick summing myself up, but I've worked on my writing quite a bit to get it to a level of quality I really enjoy. I go for both quality and quantity and I'm hoping for a partner that has a similar writing style to myself. I write third person/past tense. 500 words is usually my minimum but depending on the scene it can vary quite a bit. I like solid writing but I'm not a stickler for perfect grammar and typos don't bother me. Gods know I make mistakes. As long as your writing isn't riddled with them and you've put good effort in, then I'm happy! I really just need a partner that pushes the story forward because I will definitely be pushing us in the direction we decide on together, I just don't want to be the only one moving the story along. I'm a big fan of fantasy, romance, adventure, and slow burns.
Expectations/Preferences for you and myself
-500 word minimum per post. My range is 500-1500+ depending on the scene.
-Third person/past tense
-Communication (For both plotting and just general communication about wait times between posts)
-Posts like once a week, more if possible of course, but this is a hobby and it should be fun. No pressure. Just let me know so I'm not constantly checking for updates.
-18+ themes like sex, drugs, violence, ect... I like detailed writing so things will get nitty gritty.
-A solid story that also includes smut where it fits. I don't have a preferred ratio but I'm big on sexual tension and slow burns that sometimes erupt suddenly. It should be organic if our characters have chemistry.
Here is my writing sample. This is an intro to a Fantasy plot.
Onto the story idea
This story is slice of life with themes of drugs and alcohol
What does it mean to be famous? To be loved and adored by thousands of people you don't even know? To have people screaming your name and bursting into tears just from seeing you? It's glamorous and exhilarating, or at least it is at first. But... after some time you'd get sick of hearing your own name. You'd get tired of having to smile and wave even when you're having the shittiest day. You become worn down from the constant appearances and shows. What was once your passion would shift into something monetary and soulless.
JETT is a rockstar at the peak of his career. Riding high from his Solo career launch he seems to be soaking in the success. He was once a member of a popular band called Eden with a handful of other guys, but as time passed their sales began to drop. Their producer pulled the plug on the band and offered their most popular member a chance at a Solo career. JETT took the offer, not wanting to lose out on the opportunity to do what he loved. His launch was a success. Old fans welcomed him and new fans flooded in. Given his unique vocal range people loved him. They melted at the low rumble of his voice while also cheering as he hit the killer high notes. His music is considered rock but it leans into alternative, giving him more freedom to make new music and fallow his muse. Or... at least it used to.
The name JETT sells. His popularity was expected but the level its reached is unprecedented. Stadiums sell out the moment tickets are released. His name makes it into countless magazines daily. His face is plastered on the walls of people's bedrooms across the country. His music is always playing on the radio. He's reached the tops of the charts over and over again. It's dizzying to think about... even for him.
JETT is actually called Leone Rossi, the son of first generation Italian immigrants. Past all the fame and glamour, he really is just a regular guy. And the pressure is getting to him. Spending months on tour away from his family eats away at him. The endless concerts are wearing him down physically and emotionally. Each guest spot on a talk show makes his anxiety spike. And now, his producer is trying to tell him to use ghost writers instead of writing his own music. He's thoroughly been turned into a product, and it's killing him.
He misses performing in dive bars, and writing music in the dim lighting in the back of the van they used to move their things between gigs. He misses his family and friends. He misses being able to sit at a bar and laugh with people who liked his songs.
His inspiration has shrivelled up. His motivation is non-existent. His manager drags him from one place to another to parade him around like a robot. He acts like everything is fine, but inside he is struggling. And sooner or later the ugliness underneath will make its way to the surface. Tabloids begin to write stories about his late night escapades. The clubs he's been going to. How drunk he looks walking out. Magazines micro analyzing his pupil sizes in pictures and speculating if he's using drugs. And now, the infamous DUI charges every young celebrity seems to earn. His Producer isn't happy.
To rein him in and to try and get a handle on his reckless behaviour they decide to hire a 'Handler'. Or more professionally said, a PR Manager. His image has taken a hit, he's been labeled a 'Bad Boy' and is losing favour with younger fans. Some fans like his new image, while others go on forums to vent about how disappointed they are. In any case this Handler is meant to improve his image and get him back on track so the Company doesn't lose their investment.
I am looking for someone to play this 'Handler' character. I imagine someone very clean cut/ to the book/ no non-sense sort of attitude. Someone so tightly wound that they're sure they can whip him into line. But once they meet the idea of 'whipping him' into any sort of shape falls apart because he isn't a 'bad boy'. He isn't a reckless superstar out to blow his money and career... he's a worn down, overused and abused product. His turn to alcohol and drugs came along with the promise of his anxiety and stress finally disappearing. Even when he's exhausted he drags himself out on stage and puts on a good show. He isn't a menace, he's just struggling.
So, I am hoping for someone motivated and professional, fully intent on cleaning up his image but who also has empathy for the struggles he's going through. Someone at first who is just there to do a job but end up genuinely wanting to help him. There will of course be themes of drugs and alcohol in this and some mental health topics. I see them starting off as simply coworkers, then friends, then more. Finally there is someone in his life that seems focused on him and how he's feeling rather than just pushing him forward to do more, and more, and more. Finally there is someone by his side he can open up to and talk to, someone who listens to him and in turn advocates for him when his own voice seems insignificant. I'm rambling so I'll leave it there.
If you're interested then send me a message with an intro about yourself and a writing sample! Thanks!
Example of what I imagine his music sounding like:
Sleep Token -
I'm Elm, and I've been writing for over a decade. I'm just returning from a three month hiatus where my creative bug withered up and died. But I've been feeling more inspired recently and think I could revive it with the right person. Could it be you? Lets see...
I'll be quick summing myself up, but I've worked on my writing quite a bit to get it to a level of quality I really enjoy. I go for both quality and quantity and I'm hoping for a partner that has a similar writing style to myself. I write third person/past tense. 500 words is usually my minimum but depending on the scene it can vary quite a bit. I like solid writing but I'm not a stickler for perfect grammar and typos don't bother me. Gods know I make mistakes. As long as your writing isn't riddled with them and you've put good effort in, then I'm happy! I really just need a partner that pushes the story forward because I will definitely be pushing us in the direction we decide on together, I just don't want to be the only one moving the story along. I'm a big fan of fantasy, romance, adventure, and slow burns.
Expectations/Preferences for you and myself
-500 word minimum per post. My range is 500-1500+ depending on the scene.
-Third person/past tense
-Communication (For both plotting and just general communication about wait times between posts)
-Posts like once a week, more if possible of course, but this is a hobby and it should be fun. No pressure. Just let me know so I'm not constantly checking for updates.
-18+ themes like sex, drugs, violence, ect... I like detailed writing so things will get nitty gritty.
-A solid story that also includes smut where it fits. I don't have a preferred ratio but I'm big on sexual tension and slow burns that sometimes erupt suddenly. It should be organic if our characters have chemistry.
Here is my writing sample. This is an intro to a Fantasy plot.
Vast valleys and forests stretched between towering mountain peaks. The untamed wilds of the world truly a majestic wonder of their own. From dense forests filled with the unknown to massive mountains of rock and snow jutting up towards the skies. Over time, mortals had managed to form settlements. Towns and Kingdoms speckled throughout the land. They cleared away trees, conquered rivers with bridges, and etched out a place for themselves among the wilds and its creatures. They connected their settlements with roads that twisted across the earth like veins, allowing the flow of people and goods to move about freely which ultimately made their growth that much quicker. Humans were versatile creatures, complex and confusing to other beings. How humans decided to form their societies, how they gifted power to some and not others, it was all so strange… At least for one looking at the world for the first time in centuries.
It had indeed been centuries since he'd laid eyes on the world and what he woke to was unpleasant, to say the least. Albus Ignis, a fierce and powerful Dragon that had lived for hundreds of years. The powerful being that soared through the skies. The Dragon that had fought in the ancient war… had been made to walk. To walk, like a mortal. His pride had been slowly chipped at with every step he took upon the binding earth. The earth he had never felt so trapped on. He dreamed of spreading his wings once more, of leaping off the ground and returning to his rightful place in the sky, but it couldn't be so. For he had lost his Dragon form.
How many nights had passed since he had woken? At least thirty. Long ago, he found a safe place to rest, to hide and allow time to pass. High in the mountains, deep within a cave, he buried himself in the soil before laying his Dragon form overtop. It seemed more than enough to keep himself safe for the long slumber ahead of him. But when he woke, he woke with only one body, not two. He felt it the moment he woke, the absence of his other half. Albus had clawed his way out of the earth, his claws scraping against rock and dirt until he surfaced. The loss struck him hardest as he took in the empty cave where his Dragon form had once laid. His anger had been explosive and violent, his screams of rage echoing from the cave like a thunderous roar. He could sense his body though, as distant as it was… but it hadn't been the loss of his body that had woken him up. No. It was something far more troublesome.
Albus had been jolted awake by a sudden anxiety, a pounding in his chest he had never felt before. It tore through him in waves, urging him to move from where he'd laid dormant for so long. His skin burned along his right forearm, etching a mark into his flesh that he didn't see until he emerged from the earth. The mark inked into his skin, a sphere with a shape within it, similar to the pupil of a Dragon. Below it was a path of inky blackness that folded down his arm like a ribbon before coming to a long point. He didn't need the mark to know what he was feeling though, an awakening. Not his, but his Pearl's.
Pearls… he had heard about them throughout his long life. Dragons were born in fragments. He possessed two bodies, one more human while the other was fully Dragon. But his soul was also split, half residing with him while the other was given to a human, to a Pearl. He had been told they were called pearls because they were precious and valuable, wrapped by a protective layer - their Dragon. In his long life he had never been blessed with a Pearl, with his human counterpart. He'd begun to think he simply didn't have one, but he was wrong.
A Pearl and Dragon bond was powerful. It was a connection blessed by the Gods. As much as he wanted to seek out his body and take it back, he knew he needed to find his Bond first. The anxiety was overwhelming, the fear he might lose his Pearl before ever finding it ate away at him. His damn mortal like legs carried him so slowly and they tired much too quickly. If he had his true form he could have found his Bond in no time, but unfortunately that wasn't the case. So, he walked. He trudged through the snow of the mountain, climbed over rock and boulder, crossed through forests and valleys to finally reaching his destination.
Albus stood before the gates of a large Castle, gazing through the bars to the Palace beyond. He had never stepped foot within a town or city before that day. The cobbled streets were unfamiliar under his feet. The voices were too loud, the crowds too chaotic, the number of scents too many… he decided quickly that he hated it. Hated human settlements, but… the building he stared up at now could be an exception. It was tall, grand, and regal. It was made of stone with intricate carvings circling the large entrance beyond the gate. Its gate was polished metal, making it shine in the daylight. The towers that stretched up from the top peaks of the palace were also metal of some sort, bronze perhaps? Polished and shining in the light. It was a castle suited for a King… or a Dragon, he thought deviously. If Dragons were anything it was proud, and such a place would suit someone as regal as himself, he'd decided.
But, there were still some headaches to deal with it seemed.
Pressure on his chest drew his eyes down, gazing at the two crossed blades pressed against him. Blades attached to long spears, held in the hands of two Guards.
"Stand back, I say! I won't warn you again!"
Albus lifted his eyes, staring down along the spear to the man that held it, to the man that had told him more than once to stand back. There were two of them flanking the gate when he'd approached, now they flanked him, spears poised and ready to cut him down if he continued to disobey. But, he obeyed no one. Albus lifted his hands, taking hold of the shafts in one quick movement. His grip on them tightened, causing the wood to creak under the pressure before snapping. At once, both blades fell, hitting the ground uselessly. Chips of wood fell from his hands as he stepped forward. The Guards watched, stunned as he approached the gate. The white haired man reached forward once more, fingers winding around the metal bars. He pressed forward, the gate groaning as it began to bend inwards. The large metal lock creaked before snapping. The gate gave way to his strength, swinging open before he stepped through.
Albus was dressed in the same armour he had worn when he went to sleep centuries ago. Blue metal adorned with intricate bronze detailing. It fallowed the shape of his body well, moving along with him as if it were his own skin. His white hair was left loose, hanging down past his waist. Pointed ears peeked out from below the stands. His eyes were sharp, their silver colour as cold as the white of his hair. The warmest thing about him was his skin, but even that was fair. He was not human, that much was obvious just from looking at him.
He crossed the distance from the gate to the main door, passing through a few more Guards as he went. He dealt with them swiftly, disarming them and leaving them staggered in his wake. He hardly took the time to look at them as he moved, his focus entirely forward where he could sense his Bond, his Pearl. It was close now, so close. The mortals he faced now wern't worth his time, nor were they worth his effort, but if he needed to pass through them to get to his Pearl then he would.
Albus reached the doors, his hands pressing to the heavy wood. He leaned into them, pushing them opened. They swung wide, opening with enough force to slam against the stone walls within. Albus stepped forward without delay, ignoring the Guards that gaped at him from within. The entry was as grand as the palace itself. Smooth marble flooring with a long carpet stretching from the entrance to the wide staircase beyond. The ceiling reached high above, the domed surface painted in an intricate mural of clouds, cherubs, and dragons. Pillars lined the long room, stretching from floor to ceiling. The space was finely decorated, the walls adorned with large paintings and tables dressed with fresh flowers. It was the type of finery that he enjoyed the most. It was a shame his admiration of it was spoiled by the guards that had finally stepped into action. Six or so guards circled him, spears pointed at the ready. The ones from outside had recovered, abandoning their broken spears and drawing their swords instead. They approached from behind, poised to strike.
He was surrounded, but he couldn't look more at ease. Perhaps it was his ease that made the guards appear even more afraid. Some shouted out, calling for more Guards as others ran to get help, or to perhaps warn their Royals of the odd intrusion. The ones before him were speaking, asking questions he didn't bother to listen to. No, he had no need to listen to mortals. He was there for one person and one person only. His Pearl. He could feel them, he was close, so close… but where were they? His eyes wandered over the doorways before lifting to the stairs, trying to feel where they might be. But his searching eyes were interrupted once more as a man approached, one dressed in armour almost as fine as his own. An unsettled hush had taken over the crowd of guards, the unease thick in the air.
"I am Cadmus, Commander of the Royal Guard." The mortal's voice was calm and clear compared to the rest, but perhaps it was the man's fine armour that kept Albus' attention. The man was someone in power, someone who might know who he was searching for. "It is clear you are here for a reason, so state that reason!" The man spoke in a commanding tone, seeming to understand the situation quickly. Albus was not mortal, he had barged his way into the Royal Palace alone, there was something he was after.
"My Pearl."
His voice came out in a smooth, deep rumble.
"What?" The commander questioned, despite the recognition Albus could see in his eyes. This man knew something. The Dragon gazed past the wall of guards like they weren't even there, his eyes steady on the Commander.
"My Pearl, I'm here to collect them. Bring them to me at once, unless you seek to anger me further."
The threat was there behind his words. He had restrained himself thus far, but he could cause unthinkable damage if he so desired. Even in his more human form he was deadly. His claws sharp as daggers, fangs capable of tearing through flesh, and his strength far more than what he'd demonstrated so far.
"You are…"
"I am Albus Ignis, White Fire, Dragon of the High Mountain. My patience runs thin, if you delay any further I will be forced to find my Bond myself. If it means burning this building to ash, then so be it."
His voice was stern and commanding, his words causing the crowd of Guards to waiver slightly. Some glanced between themselves, others looked to their commander while a few shifted back slightly. The Dragon had come to claim their Princess just as the awakening foretold.
It had indeed been centuries since he'd laid eyes on the world and what he woke to was unpleasant, to say the least. Albus Ignis, a fierce and powerful Dragon that had lived for hundreds of years. The powerful being that soared through the skies. The Dragon that had fought in the ancient war… had been made to walk. To walk, like a mortal. His pride had been slowly chipped at with every step he took upon the binding earth. The earth he had never felt so trapped on. He dreamed of spreading his wings once more, of leaping off the ground and returning to his rightful place in the sky, but it couldn't be so. For he had lost his Dragon form.
How many nights had passed since he had woken? At least thirty. Long ago, he found a safe place to rest, to hide and allow time to pass. High in the mountains, deep within a cave, he buried himself in the soil before laying his Dragon form overtop. It seemed more than enough to keep himself safe for the long slumber ahead of him. But when he woke, he woke with only one body, not two. He felt it the moment he woke, the absence of his other half. Albus had clawed his way out of the earth, his claws scraping against rock and dirt until he surfaced. The loss struck him hardest as he took in the empty cave where his Dragon form had once laid. His anger had been explosive and violent, his screams of rage echoing from the cave like a thunderous roar. He could sense his body though, as distant as it was… but it hadn't been the loss of his body that had woken him up. No. It was something far more troublesome.
Albus had been jolted awake by a sudden anxiety, a pounding in his chest he had never felt before. It tore through him in waves, urging him to move from where he'd laid dormant for so long. His skin burned along his right forearm, etching a mark into his flesh that he didn't see until he emerged from the earth. The mark inked into his skin, a sphere with a shape within it, similar to the pupil of a Dragon. Below it was a path of inky blackness that folded down his arm like a ribbon before coming to a long point. He didn't need the mark to know what he was feeling though, an awakening. Not his, but his Pearl's.
Pearls… he had heard about them throughout his long life. Dragons were born in fragments. He possessed two bodies, one more human while the other was fully Dragon. But his soul was also split, half residing with him while the other was given to a human, to a Pearl. He had been told they were called pearls because they were precious and valuable, wrapped by a protective layer - their Dragon. In his long life he had never been blessed with a Pearl, with his human counterpart. He'd begun to think he simply didn't have one, but he was wrong.
A Pearl and Dragon bond was powerful. It was a connection blessed by the Gods. As much as he wanted to seek out his body and take it back, he knew he needed to find his Bond first. The anxiety was overwhelming, the fear he might lose his Pearl before ever finding it ate away at him. His damn mortal like legs carried him so slowly and they tired much too quickly. If he had his true form he could have found his Bond in no time, but unfortunately that wasn't the case. So, he walked. He trudged through the snow of the mountain, climbed over rock and boulder, crossed through forests and valleys to finally reaching his destination.
Albus stood before the gates of a large Castle, gazing through the bars to the Palace beyond. He had never stepped foot within a town or city before that day. The cobbled streets were unfamiliar under his feet. The voices were too loud, the crowds too chaotic, the number of scents too many… he decided quickly that he hated it. Hated human settlements, but… the building he stared up at now could be an exception. It was tall, grand, and regal. It was made of stone with intricate carvings circling the large entrance beyond the gate. Its gate was polished metal, making it shine in the daylight. The towers that stretched up from the top peaks of the palace were also metal of some sort, bronze perhaps? Polished and shining in the light. It was a castle suited for a King… or a Dragon, he thought deviously. If Dragons were anything it was proud, and such a place would suit someone as regal as himself, he'd decided.
But, there were still some headaches to deal with it seemed.
Pressure on his chest drew his eyes down, gazing at the two crossed blades pressed against him. Blades attached to long spears, held in the hands of two Guards.
"Stand back, I say! I won't warn you again!"
Albus lifted his eyes, staring down along the spear to the man that held it, to the man that had told him more than once to stand back. There were two of them flanking the gate when he'd approached, now they flanked him, spears poised and ready to cut him down if he continued to disobey. But, he obeyed no one. Albus lifted his hands, taking hold of the shafts in one quick movement. His grip on them tightened, causing the wood to creak under the pressure before snapping. At once, both blades fell, hitting the ground uselessly. Chips of wood fell from his hands as he stepped forward. The Guards watched, stunned as he approached the gate. The white haired man reached forward once more, fingers winding around the metal bars. He pressed forward, the gate groaning as it began to bend inwards. The large metal lock creaked before snapping. The gate gave way to his strength, swinging open before he stepped through.
Albus was dressed in the same armour he had worn when he went to sleep centuries ago. Blue metal adorned with intricate bronze detailing. It fallowed the shape of his body well, moving along with him as if it were his own skin. His white hair was left loose, hanging down past his waist. Pointed ears peeked out from below the stands. His eyes were sharp, their silver colour as cold as the white of his hair. The warmest thing about him was his skin, but even that was fair. He was not human, that much was obvious just from looking at him.
He crossed the distance from the gate to the main door, passing through a few more Guards as he went. He dealt with them swiftly, disarming them and leaving them staggered in his wake. He hardly took the time to look at them as he moved, his focus entirely forward where he could sense his Bond, his Pearl. It was close now, so close. The mortals he faced now wern't worth his time, nor were they worth his effort, but if he needed to pass through them to get to his Pearl then he would.
Albus reached the doors, his hands pressing to the heavy wood. He leaned into them, pushing them opened. They swung wide, opening with enough force to slam against the stone walls within. Albus stepped forward without delay, ignoring the Guards that gaped at him from within. The entry was as grand as the palace itself. Smooth marble flooring with a long carpet stretching from the entrance to the wide staircase beyond. The ceiling reached high above, the domed surface painted in an intricate mural of clouds, cherubs, and dragons. Pillars lined the long room, stretching from floor to ceiling. The space was finely decorated, the walls adorned with large paintings and tables dressed with fresh flowers. It was the type of finery that he enjoyed the most. It was a shame his admiration of it was spoiled by the guards that had finally stepped into action. Six or so guards circled him, spears pointed at the ready. The ones from outside had recovered, abandoning their broken spears and drawing their swords instead. They approached from behind, poised to strike.
He was surrounded, but he couldn't look more at ease. Perhaps it was his ease that made the guards appear even more afraid. Some shouted out, calling for more Guards as others ran to get help, or to perhaps warn their Royals of the odd intrusion. The ones before him were speaking, asking questions he didn't bother to listen to. No, he had no need to listen to mortals. He was there for one person and one person only. His Pearl. He could feel them, he was close, so close… but where were they? His eyes wandered over the doorways before lifting to the stairs, trying to feel where they might be. But his searching eyes were interrupted once more as a man approached, one dressed in armour almost as fine as his own. An unsettled hush had taken over the crowd of guards, the unease thick in the air.
"I am Cadmus, Commander of the Royal Guard." The mortal's voice was calm and clear compared to the rest, but perhaps it was the man's fine armour that kept Albus' attention. The man was someone in power, someone who might know who he was searching for. "It is clear you are here for a reason, so state that reason!" The man spoke in a commanding tone, seeming to understand the situation quickly. Albus was not mortal, he had barged his way into the Royal Palace alone, there was something he was after.
"My Pearl."
His voice came out in a smooth, deep rumble.
"What?" The commander questioned, despite the recognition Albus could see in his eyes. This man knew something. The Dragon gazed past the wall of guards like they weren't even there, his eyes steady on the Commander.
"My Pearl, I'm here to collect them. Bring them to me at once, unless you seek to anger me further."
The threat was there behind his words. He had restrained himself thus far, but he could cause unthinkable damage if he so desired. Even in his more human form he was deadly. His claws sharp as daggers, fangs capable of tearing through flesh, and his strength far more than what he'd demonstrated so far.
"You are…"
"I am Albus Ignis, White Fire, Dragon of the High Mountain. My patience runs thin, if you delay any further I will be forced to find my Bond myself. If it means burning this building to ash, then so be it."
His voice was stern and commanding, his words causing the crowd of Guards to waiver slightly. Some glanced between themselves, others looked to their commander while a few shifted back slightly. The Dragon had come to claim their Princess just as the awakening foretold.
Onto the story idea
This story is slice of life with themes of drugs and alcohol
What does it mean to be famous? To be loved and adored by thousands of people you don't even know? To have people screaming your name and bursting into tears just from seeing you? It's glamorous and exhilarating, or at least it is at first. But... after some time you'd get sick of hearing your own name. You'd get tired of having to smile and wave even when you're having the shittiest day. You become worn down from the constant appearances and shows. What was once your passion would shift into something monetary and soulless.
JETT is a rockstar at the peak of his career. Riding high from his Solo career launch he seems to be soaking in the success. He was once a member of a popular band called Eden with a handful of other guys, but as time passed their sales began to drop. Their producer pulled the plug on the band and offered their most popular member a chance at a Solo career. JETT took the offer, not wanting to lose out on the opportunity to do what he loved. His launch was a success. Old fans welcomed him and new fans flooded in. Given his unique vocal range people loved him. They melted at the low rumble of his voice while also cheering as he hit the killer high notes. His music is considered rock but it leans into alternative, giving him more freedom to make new music and fallow his muse. Or... at least it used to.
The name JETT sells. His popularity was expected but the level its reached is unprecedented. Stadiums sell out the moment tickets are released. His name makes it into countless magazines daily. His face is plastered on the walls of people's bedrooms across the country. His music is always playing on the radio. He's reached the tops of the charts over and over again. It's dizzying to think about... even for him.
JETT is actually called Leone Rossi, the son of first generation Italian immigrants. Past all the fame and glamour, he really is just a regular guy. And the pressure is getting to him. Spending months on tour away from his family eats away at him. The endless concerts are wearing him down physically and emotionally. Each guest spot on a talk show makes his anxiety spike. And now, his producer is trying to tell him to use ghost writers instead of writing his own music. He's thoroughly been turned into a product, and it's killing him.
He misses performing in dive bars, and writing music in the dim lighting in the back of the van they used to move their things between gigs. He misses his family and friends. He misses being able to sit at a bar and laugh with people who liked his songs.
His inspiration has shrivelled up. His motivation is non-existent. His manager drags him from one place to another to parade him around like a robot. He acts like everything is fine, but inside he is struggling. And sooner or later the ugliness underneath will make its way to the surface. Tabloids begin to write stories about his late night escapades. The clubs he's been going to. How drunk he looks walking out. Magazines micro analyzing his pupil sizes in pictures and speculating if he's using drugs. And now, the infamous DUI charges every young celebrity seems to earn. His Producer isn't happy.
To rein him in and to try and get a handle on his reckless behaviour they decide to hire a 'Handler'. Or more professionally said, a PR Manager. His image has taken a hit, he's been labeled a 'Bad Boy' and is losing favour with younger fans. Some fans like his new image, while others go on forums to vent about how disappointed they are. In any case this Handler is meant to improve his image and get him back on track so the Company doesn't lose their investment.
I am looking for someone to play this 'Handler' character. I imagine someone very clean cut/ to the book/ no non-sense sort of attitude. Someone so tightly wound that they're sure they can whip him into line. But once they meet the idea of 'whipping him' into any sort of shape falls apart because he isn't a 'bad boy'. He isn't a reckless superstar out to blow his money and career... he's a worn down, overused and abused product. His turn to alcohol and drugs came along with the promise of his anxiety and stress finally disappearing. Even when he's exhausted he drags himself out on stage and puts on a good show. He isn't a menace, he's just struggling.
So, I am hoping for someone motivated and professional, fully intent on cleaning up his image but who also has empathy for the struggles he's going through. Someone at first who is just there to do a job but end up genuinely wanting to help him. There will of course be themes of drugs and alcohol in this and some mental health topics. I see them starting off as simply coworkers, then friends, then more. Finally there is someone in his life that seems focused on him and how he's feeling rather than just pushing him forward to do more, and more, and more. Finally there is someone by his side he can open up to and talk to, someone who listens to him and in turn advocates for him when his own voice seems insignificant. I'm rambling so I'll leave it there.
If you're interested then send me a message with an intro about yourself and a writing sample! Thanks!
Example of what I imagine his music sounding like:
Sleep Token -