The Seven Decisions That Made a Monster
Los Angeles, 1987. The light was the color of bad decisions—pink and gold and smog, filtering through the windows of a bar on Sunset Boulevard that had been serving writers and agents and the people who preyed on them since 1953. Michael Carver was thirty-four years old, a screenwriter who had sold exactly one script in six years. The script was a spec about a detective with amnesia, a premise...
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