Meeting Mel Gibson ~ Excerpt from “Diary of a Hollywood Nobody”

Copyright 2011-2024 by Lisa Maliga

Thursday, May 18

I was sentenced to eight hours in the legal department at Warner Bros. The lawyer’s secretary was pregnant and all she did was sit behind her desk and talk on the phone. The lawyer, Mr. Manic, was civil to me at first. He sauntered in around 10:30 and disappeared into his office on the other side of the suite. Preggers sat in the large reception area and I was squeezed into a file room with a desk on the other side of the secretary’s office. The water cooler was beside the desk and he came over to fill up a mug and hand me his car keys! Mr. Manic told me to go down to his car, a Jaguar convertible, and retrieve his briefcase.

I loped downstairs, glad to get out into the sunny day and check out his wheels. It was a white Jag. with a matching leather interior and it sure smelled clean and new when I opened the door. Then I saw the briefcase. It wasn’t the standard issue case made of imported leather; it was quadruple sized and HEAVY! As I lugged it out of the car, I almost dropped the damn thing.  That it contained books was evident–but all 26 volumes of the Encyclopedia Britannica

The briefcase never left the ground. Having to go upstairs in the elevatorless Admin. building meant that the case rested on each step. Mr. Manic was having me, someone who was probably half his weight, play pack mule? Why? Did he hate temps?

The endearing Mr. Manic also had his car washed for him. A man stopped by and asked Preggers for the car keys so the Jag. could be washed and the gas tank filled. I’d happened to be in the reception area doing some file organizing so I witnessed the man pocketing the keys. I wanted to tell him to make sure he left the top down and hit every phone pole on the way back!

Preggers had me “run” to the mailroom to drop off some important letters. Just as I was rounding a corner, I barely avoided slamming into an equally surprised Mel Gibson! Those famous blue eyes were huge; we were just inches from a collision!

Book link: Diary of a Hollywood Nobody

Visually-Enhanced Book Excerpt

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Out of the Blue: A Novel ~ Video Excerpt

Copyright 2014-2024 by Lisa Maliga

The month of August was sweltering. Sylvia Gardner was unaware of how the heat would affect her on a Thursday afternoon during the second week of over 95-degree temperatures. Images of Jamaica held far less appeal than they did during the winter months. The thought of visiting Bob Marley’s country faded.

It was her day off from her cashiering job at Jenson’s Drugstore. She was taking advantage of the air-conditioned climate. The movie was Splendor in the Grass starring Warren Beatty and Natalie Wood. The Zenith TV stood in the corner of the living room on a faux wood grain wheeled cart. Beneath it was stored the new TV Guide, along with the Richport News entertainment section, and the monthly PBS magazine. 

She switched on the TV, knowing the movie would be on by the time she returned from the kitchen. She could enjoy the movie, sip from a bottle of ice cold 7 Up from the freezer, and maybe indulge in a few handfuls of potato chips. Oh yeah, and that container of French onion dip from Kroger was still on the second shelf of the fridge.

Odd, she thought. It hadn’t done that in a while. As she was about to switch back, the picture sharpened even more and she was attracted to the verdant landscape. Something about the bucolic setting captivated Sylvia.

 And that was how it all began.

book link: Out of the Blue: A Novel

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1992 Los Angeles Riots Excerpt from ‘Diary of a Hollywood Nobody’

By Lisa Maliga, copyright 2015

This is an edited excerpt from my novel, Diary of a Hollywood Nobody.

Wednesday, April 29, 1992

diary of a hollywood nobody lisa maligaOn Monday, I began a new assignment in the basement of the Union Pacific Bank. There were several departments in the sprawling basement and I got lucky as the lawyer I worked for took every Wednesday afternoon off in order to perfect his golf game at the Wilshire Country Club.

George, the guy in charge of the mailroom, came over to the desk where I sat. My work consisted of alphabetizing loan applications for another secretary. I noticed his serious expression as he told me that the four cops who’d beaten Rodney King had been acquitted out in Simi Valley. The look on his broad Samoan face told me that he didn’t agree with the decision. Neither did I. “People are outside the court house yelling guilty, guilty.” He shook his head. “They’re saying it could get ugly…”

Quitting time was five o’clock and I drove home the usual way and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Until I got home and turned on the TV. I still didn’t have cable but that didn’t matter as every channel was broadcasting the events. Fires were set, looters invaded stores, and my adopted city was in a state of chaos. The only noise I heard was that of sirens screaming down Melrose and helicopters overhead.

Thursday, April 30

Early that morning I called Alltemps and asked if I should go in to work. The answer was yes. I guess being located in the middle of Beverly Hills changed their perspective.

I took Sunset to downtown and parked at the usual lot east of the business district on 6th and Bixel. There weren’t many cars. In the distance, I saw plumes of smoke. L.A. was on fire and I had to report to work in the basement of a bank.

The bank office was abuzz with static-filled radios. Iesha, a South Central resident, spoke of a night of terror. Luckily, her house remained intact and her kids were unharmed. Her husband was out of town so she and her three grade-school aged children endured a night of fires and looting and helicopters buzzing overhead. The nearby mini-mall was looted and burned. No more convenience store, video shop, or Chinese takeout remained.

Sybil was another black woman who had a firecracker of a night. She resided in Koreatown, a hard-hit area near 8th and Vermont. Her apartment was unscathed, but she received a free fire show. Windows broke. Gunshots rang out.

Every so often, someone would remember the employees below street level and announce another mishap. Looting on 6th Street. Fires burned everywhere. No work was done.

By noon, we were dismissed due to the ‘civil disturbance.’ Nerves were wrought. Various forms of panic seized the employees. George was accompanying Rosalinda to her bus stop near Skid Row.

I was driven to the outdoor lot across the Harbor Freeway. Two other cars remained in the $3 per day lot. Behind me, the smoke was billowing higher and darker. I locked my car doors. I was leaving work at lunchtime and wasn’t pretending I was sick; there was a legitimate excuse for going home early.

It started gradually. I noticed more pedestrians on the sidewalks than usual. Teens. Little kids. Mothers.  They headed westwards, about a half mile from Vermont Avenue. People trotting, some running. Uphill, at the intersection of Beverly and Vermont, traffic stopped at a green light.

Read more about the riots as well as the excesses of the 1990’s as a nobody tries to become a somebody in Hollywood. This unique diary is available here:
Amazon link: Diary of a Hollywood Nobody

B&N Nook link: Diary of a Hollywood Nobody

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“North of Sunset” New Cover + Excerpt

By Lisa Maliga copyright 2015

2010 cover
2010 cover

I first published NORTH OF SUNSET in late 2010—back when Amazon allowed us to put books into five categories rather than just two! Anyway, I finally found the time to get the cover redesigned as the first version looked like this small cover to your right.

Pretty lame, I know. I was adamant about using the cover photo because it was taken at Santa Monica Beach right at the edge of Sunset Boulevard and at 5:00 PM in December – sunset for real!

2011 cover
2011 cover

A year later, I fixed the font but the result wasn’t as good as I’d hoped. I was going to get it professionally redone when I got involved in some soap crafting projects that kept me away from my Fireworks program. However, I hired a cover designer and the third cover below reflects the somberness of the book. This isn’t a conventional romance, it’s more of a contemporary fiction tale, a Hollywood story about a man who lives in that expensive enclave overlooking down the city of Los Angeles.

Here’s the new blurb: Sherman Lee is a volatile action movie producer in search of critical acclaim. Best friend Wesley Barron stars in his hit movies and knows about the producer’s troubled past. Emily Karelin is sent to work for Sherman due to her lack of show biz knowledge. Temping to support her figure skating habit, Emily works in his Beverly Hills mansion, unaware of how her life will drastically change. NORTH OF SUNSET explores the life of an ambitious man living above it all. Someone whose motto is “the only problem with being #1 is that it never lasts.”

north of sunset by lisa maliga
NEW 2015 cover

CHAPTER FOUR

The phone rang. He grabbed it. Silence. Then the sound of a static-filled voice: “Hi, this is Computer Components calling to let you know…”
“Go to hell!” Sherman shouted and hung up.
He was irritated. Just like he’d been that morning when he drove up to see that dented red Toyota parked beneath the basketball hoop. Reed had started on Friday after he’d fired that Cheetos and Pepsi drinking woman. Reed proved to be a decent assistant. Quick on the phones. Eager to please and he knew all the key names. But he was a lousy typist.
Sherman had been location scouting in Phoenix and was tired. Reed had made sure that a limo was at the airport, but the driver was one of Reed’s struggling actor friends who kept trying to talk to him when he wanted to sleep.
By Monday afternoon Sherman was furious. Reed was simpering on the phone to a bimbo model/actress. Then he offered Sherman the trades and had circled items in red pen, starring the cover page article on North/South Productions’ deal with Fox, Sherman’s company. Obviously Sherman had known about the information for months! So some pipsqueak wannabe producer was pointing it out to him!
Reed took another call for Sherman. “Who’s calling for Mr. Lee? Jerry? Which one–Lewis?” Reed crossed his eyes and made a stupid face.
Sherman lunged for the phone and took the call. “Jerry? Where are you? I’ll call you right back.” He slammed the phone down. “Reed, you’re fired.”
“What?”
“YOU’RE FIRED!” Sherman yelled, his Texas accent very clear. “Get out now!”
Reed decided that the producer wasn’t kidding around. The skinny young man looked very scared. The eyes he’d crossed in mockery were now welling up with tears. “Please, Mr. Lee…I…”
“Get out, you little piece of sh*t.” Sherman saw the fear in the young man’s eyes and felt power surge through him.
Reed headed for the doorway, not wasting an instant.
“You’ll never temp in this town again!” Sherman bellowed.
On Tuesday morning he called Jobs Co. and asked for someone who was competent and didn’t want to make it in show biz.

 Read the official blurb and see where you can get North of Sunset 

 

 

Diary of a Hollywood Nobody ~ A Show Biz Excerpt

Copyright 2011-2015 by Lisa Maliga

Wednesday, July 22

9:20 PM. Back in the world of show biz. 

diary of a hollywood nobody lisa maligaHollywood Financing. The office was on Sunset just east of Beverly Hills. I was a receptionist and the pay sucked but I could have all the free beverages I wanted. Reading on the job was okay. Eight executives worked there and they were a decent bunch. Jack, the lawyer, was in his mid-thirties, but his office was furnished like a kindergarten classroom. He had several cans of Play-Doh and had created some pretty weird sculptures. A fleet of Matchbox cars was parked on a Persian rug. Comic books were stacked on a couch in his suite overlooking Sunset Boulevard. And best of all, there was a kid-sized table and chair for his frequently visiting son that housed an array of coloring books and a box of crayons. Jack rarely accepted any calls and the messages multiplied between the scripts and contracts on his cluttered desk. 

I was allowed to read scripts so I didn’t bother bringing books. Everyone knew I was an aspiring screenwriter and I was glad to work in the Biz again. Leona was from Pennsylvania and said I could call home if I wanted. She was a production coordinator on a recent movie that hadn’t been released yet and had worked with Stallone. She was almost my age and drove a Chevy Blazer and lived in Beverly Hills. I imagined she was making more than what I made.

Here’s the official book description:

Chris Yarborough is a Midwesterner as green as the corn back home in Ohio. This former bookstore employee moves out to Los Angeles to pursue a profitable career in screenwriting.

She finds an office job in a Century City-based tax and financial planning company. The business closes in six months and her career as a temp is launched.

Chris temps in various locations from East L.A. to downtown to Santa Monica and the Valley. Jobs in movie studios bring her in contact with famous actors. As a temp she’s a nobody that’s as disposable as toilet paper.

Searching for a literary agent and that elusive script sale, Chris encounters an array of unusual characters. A partying apartment manager, an important film director who can launch her career, a lawyer with an office furnished in kindergarten motif, and several household names. Sometimes working in the entertainment biz, including stints at Playboy, Universal Studios, and Warner Bros, to jobs in unrelated fields, the plucky screenwriter perseveres.

We’re shown the excesses of the 1990’s as a nobody tries to become a somebody in Hollywood.

Available at Amazon and other online bookstores. See the following page for a full list of online book stores: Diary of a Hollywood Nobody

“The Narcissist Chronicles: The WHOLE Story” plus an Arlen in Action Excerpt

narcissist chronicles love me need me a narcissist's tale i want you seduction emails from a narcissist lisa maligaBy Lisa Maliga

Copyright 2011-2015

Here’s a new excerpt from the eBook The Narcissist Chronicles: The WHOLE Story. Read about Arlen Stevenson’s first meeting with a woman he met online. A woman who sent him naked pictures of herself and is a fan of his zombie books. Mavis Preston is a lonely divorcée who enjoys trash talking with Arlen via IM and email. How will their planned weekend rendezvous turn out?

“Hello? Is this Arlen?” asked a breathy high voice.

“The one and only. I’m at this address here, numbered 6656 Bel…”

“Arlen, you’re here! Now!?” the phone clicked.

I looked up to see a stout woman with graying tightly permed curls and a pair of oversized glasses popular during the Reagan era, rushing toward me, her powder blue tracksuit emphasizing her undulating bulges and ripples. I pocketed my phone and embraced her, as I knew that was expected of me. I hid my disappointment beneath my pasted on smile—she looked absolutely nothing like those pictures she had sent…

Once I was inside her recently built home, I was impressed enough with the two story living room sporting a marble fireplace and walls containing built-in bookshelves. There was a large deck outside and a brand new gas grill that looked like it would cook lotsa steaks, burgers, hot dogs, and a few lobsters. The biggest turn on was the master bedroom with the elaborate king sized bed below a mirrored ceiling, plush beige carpeting which I wanted to test out when I got to some of my advanced sexual techniques, and the whirlpool tub in the adjacent bathroom made her look a whole lot better. Maybe ole Mavis was as good as she’d wrote.

When we went into her writing room, I saw that her computer was a laptop off in a corner next to a sewing machine and for some reason that disturbed me. Other than her bedroom, the suburban home seemed so normal and unsensual. Maybe it was the presence of a teenager; a door that was decorated on the outside with a poster of Hannah Montana, and remained closed because I doubted the woman wanted me to see evidence of her offspring. “Jeffrey, my only son! He’ll be spending the weekend with his father, like I told you earlier,” she assured me. The 4,000 square foot home was all ours from Friday through Sunday afternoon.

“I want you to autograph some books,” Mavis declared, leading me back downstairs into the living room. She immediately went over to a section and pulled out all three of my hardcovers, and I reasoned she didn’t break the bank to buy ‘em. Naturally, I always preferred it when they bought the more expensive and longer lasting version, and she happily handed them over.

“Why sure, Mavis, I’d love to…” hell, I just loved the fact that people actually bought my books and then wanted me to scribble in ‘em! I obliged her, thinking I was glad I’d left my overnight bag in the truck.

After the impromptu autograph signing, I pulled out my keys. “Mavis, I haven’t had a lot to eat today. Let’s say you and me go pick something up…”

“Nonsense, I won’t hear of it, Arlen. Why don’t I fix you a sub? I can make it to your liking…” she smiled suggestively.

 

Amazon Kindle version: The Narcissist Chronicles: The Whole Story

Amazon UK Kindle version: The Narcissist Chronicles: The Whole Story

Barnes & Noble version: The Narcissist Chronicles: The Whole Story

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/narcissist-chronicles-lisa-maliga/1102941036?ean=2940012919106

iTunes version: The Narcissist Chronicles: The Whole Story

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id664385143

Kobo version: The Narcissist Chronicles: The Whole Story

http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/the-narcissist-chronicles-the-whole-story-1

Scribd version: The Narcissist Chronicles: The Whole Story https://www.scribd.com/book/230453823/The-Narcissist-Chronicles-The-WHOLE-Story

Smashwords version: The Narcissist Chronicles: The Whole Story

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/86256

“Notes from Nadir” 4 Years Later

notes from nadir lisa maliga ebook cover

By Lisa Maliga

Copyright 2014

On October 21, 2010, the first eBook edition of Notes from Nadir was published on Kindle. Written as a series of blogs, Notes from Nadir made its online debut on March 3, 2010. My blog gradually began to attract readers. They seemed interested in reading the forthcoming novel that Notes from Nadir would later become.

Last year I published the second edition of “Notes” and even with a book tour, sales and reviews weren’t happening. The problem may be the title – nadir isn’t a common word. So, if you’re curious, and haven’t already gone to Dictionary.com to check it out, here’s the official description along with a summary of what Notes from Nadir is all about.

If noon is zenith then nadir is 6:30. And it was 6:29 and counting down. Way down. Merriam-Webster defines it as: “The lowest point.” Nadir – it was the place where I was inevitably going. Lots of stuff got me headed in that downward direction. Decisions made too late. Unmade calls. Calls made that weren’t answered. Missed connections. Being at the right place at the wrong time. Excuses. I was caught in the web of my own cause and effect and the resulting karma was ripening. Ripening of karma meant that payment was due pronto. And who paid for my own karma? Me. No checks accepted. No credit cards. And there sure as heck weren’t any I.O.U’s.

Only one place left to go. Back east. Back to a place I no longer called home. Back to a mom I hadn’t lived with or seen in many years. She had a new house in a quiet semi-retirement community. She had a spare room. Two-car garage. Free internet. And a few conditions…

Chapter 5 – Arriving in Nadir

In the morning, I awoke before sunup, knowing that it was my last day on the road. I didn’t want to hang around a motel room when I still had a few hundred miles to go. Soon I’d cross the Mississippi River and be in another state. I’d see things that hadn’t been seen in years: Hardee’s, Sunoco, Steak ‘n Shake, and White Castle.

Driving into the rising sun. Crossing into a state that had a top speed of 65. I saw more snow. When I was partially through the state, I stopped and got gas. It was definitely colder and I stepped over some snow to get to the pump. Being almost “home” was starting to suck.

The end stretch of the 2,000-mile journey led through flatlands and farmlands with intermittent groves of trees to eradicate the geographical monotony. How dull and colorless compared to the dramatic scenery of Arizona and New Mexico. Those miles rolled by as I reluctantly headed east to a “home” I had never seen since Mom moved to her one-story dwelling eight years ago.

The miles vanished. My arrival was imminent. I glanced at traffic heading west and recalled how it was when I was driving in that direction—full of hope. Now, I was full of despair, full of failure. Each mile led me closer to the “cornfield with lights” as my father, who had escaped before me, referred to it.

I changed to a smaller two-lane road that would lead me to within a mile of Mom’s new house. I had long ago memorized her address and she’d told me which streets to take and how easy it was to find. The new subdivision was called Hampton Lake and it was for older people. She’d sent me some pictures of her house and it was as generic as any modern one-story frame house with neutral colors and a few windows offset by some shrubbery and trees. Passed a place where I used to work and saw it had been replaced with a mart type store. Couldn’t help noticing the traffic signals were the old fashioned kind that were strung on wires rather than posts that extended across the intersection like they did in L.A.

I took a wrong turn and had to go another mile in some suburban/country area before I found the right street. I drove slower than normal until I saw the large wooden Hampton Lake sign. Next to it was an American flag. As I drove to the end of the cul de sac I had reached the End Point of my journey.

 

notes from nadir paperbackAmazon Kindlehttp://www.amazon.com/Notes-from-Nadir-ebook/dp/B00486UDJA

Paperbackhttp://www.amazon.com/Notes-Nadir-Lisa-Maliga/dp/1493519077/

B&N Nookhttp://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/notes-from-nadir-lisa-maliga/1100144163?ean=2940012697790

More links can be found here: http://lisamaliga.com/notesfromnadir.htm 

Out of the Blue: A Novel – NEW Cover, NEW Excerpt

out of the blue a novel by lisa maligaCopyright 2014 by Lisa Maliga

Most of my newly revised novel, Out of the Blue, occurs in the late 70’s and early 80’s. Back then, a person could board an airplane with a large bottle of shampoo in their carryon bags. Back in the era where in-flight movies were shown on a pull-down screen and they shut the lights off in the cabin. Back when they issued silverware with meals, and you didn’t have to pay extra for dinner as it was part of the cost. Those days when people smoked on airplanes, although they were confined to the back seats.

Customs consisted of being asked why I was in England, how much money I had, they didn’t bother to look, and a kindly older gentleman wished me a “happy holiday!”

I visited Cornwall and saw Pendennis Castle. In Falmouth, I was surprised to see supermarket cashiers sitting down on the job. Traveling to a small Cornish town, I discovered the local Jigsaw Puzzle Club met every Tuesday afternoon in the library’s upstairs reading room.

As London was too expensive, I took a train to the Cotswolds. There I stumbled upon a small country inn that served as a model for the Windrush Arms Hotel.

I’ve contemplated rewriting this book for over a year and only got around to it this summer. This book has romantic elements, but I feel it’s more suited to coming of age/contemporary fiction categories. Out of the Blue contains scenes that convey why Sylvia’s attracted to older men, and we see another side to Mrs. Gardner.

Here’s a scene that describes main character Sylvia Gardner’s burgeoning obsession with the English actor:

Having more information on Alexander, she was relieved that she could see his current flick, Up In the Air. It was playing in a second run movie theatre on the other side of town.

She made the trek to the Eastside Theatre, a white brick building surrounded by an empty parking lot. Weeds sprouted from cracks near the edge of the sidewalk. At noon on Sunday, the movie house looked deserted.

Sylvia pulled her car into a space and got out. The humidity was the same as the temperature. Her nervousness accelerated her own perspiration; she was seeing a feature film starring her newly beloved. 

Up In the Air was about the adventures of a turn-of-the-century English balloonist who wanted to fly over the Himalayas. 

She gave her two bucks to the guy behind the box office window. A hefty woman at the concession stand stared into space. The enticing popcorn boiled from the trapdoor inside the machine, the sound and scent permeating the lobby.

Inside the cool, dark theatre, third row back. She rested her bare legs on the seat in front of her and waited for the event. Minutes later, he appeared. In the cinema, she encountered Alexander Thorpe looming several feet high. The stereo amplified his timbre. His British accent sounded overly proper to her ears. Amidst the lightly populated movie house she sat, her infatuation moving and speaking on screen expressly for her. The sight of him enraptured her. Flying above a pristine landscape in a brightly colored balloon, she soared along with him. Alexander Thorpe, the man who had appeared out of the blue.

Sylvia was bathed in the reflected light from the screen and watched him glide past the Swiss Alps as he watched the magnificent scenery. She envisioned herself onboard. For a fraction of a second, she really was there, her feet touching the basket’s bottom, his hand reaching for hers. They were about to look into each other’s eyes when she was back in the third row of the Richport cinema keeping cool on a quiet Sunday afternoon.

Her fixation intensified over the months. In October, she was working a few hours overtime at the drugstore. Her increased wages were not enough to allow her to make a down payment on a plane ticket to London, but if she saved her money, then the likelihood of meeting the actor would increase. She realized the Englishman was not going to stop by Jenson’s Drugstore and purchase a pack of Marlboro’s and a Playboy. The only way to find the man was to journey to his homeland. Sylvia kept her desire to herself, for who would understand her burgeoning obsession with an actor of some renown? A man old enough to be her father; a man she had never met?

Summary:

It all began in the summer of 1979 …

Sylvia Gardner is a naïve library clerk who lives with her dysfunctional mother in Richport, Illinois. Vivian tells her daughter not to trust men because they only want to use her. After being dumped by her first boyfriend, Sylvia falls in love with an English actor after watching him on a PBS drama. Researching Alexander Thorpe’s life and career for two years, she saves her money so she can visit him in his Cotswolds village. She stays at the Windrush Arms Hotel, soon discovering they share a secret connection.

Complications ensue when Harry Livingstone, the hotel’s drunken proprietor, takes a fancy to the young American. As in her dreams, Sylvia and Alexander get together – but with unexpected results.

Amazon Kindle version: Out of the Blue 

Amazon Kindle UK version: Out of the Blue 

PAPERBACK version: Out of the Blue 

Barnes & Noble version: Out of the Blue 

iTunes version: Out of the Blue 

Smashwords version: Out of the Blue

Diary of a Hollywood Nobody ~ New Cover + Excerpt

By Lisa Maliga

Copyright 2014

In Hollywood, nobodies are as disposable as toilet paper.

diary of a hollywood nobody lisa maligaAlthough I’ve written a little about Hollywood in NOTES FROM NADIR, the majority of that book takes place far, far away from Hollywood.

What really happened in Hollywood? How easy is it to sell a screenplay? Did I work in the entertainment industry? Did I meet lots of celebrities?

DIARY OF A HOLLYWOOD NOBODY is partially based on my years working in wonderful world of showbiz. My character, Chris Yarborough, is someone who might have a few similarities to me. This book is based on people I met in Lalaland. I’ve also incorporated other peoples’ stories to make this a better read. Some of the characters names have been changed to protect the innocent … and the guilty. The following excerpt takes place in 1993.

***

I arrived at the studio and parked in visitor’s parking. I went to the admin. building and the person who was in charge of processing over 2,000 invitations wasn’t located in the studio head’s office.

Marybeth, my contact, was a gregarious young woman in a cream colored pants suit. She smiled and escorted me into a little room containing a copier and office supplies. There was a typewriter on a folding table along with an ancient plastic chair. My job was to type the addresses directly onto the envelopes. No labels were used. The typewriter was old enough to vote and whenever I got any speed going, it jammed. I felt like I was in a bad movie. Every time I hit the CAPS key, the machine locked up and spit out different letters than what I typed! Finally, I told Marybeth about the Jaws-like machine and she tried it. The same thing happened to her.

It was lunchtime, so I could use another typewriter at the opposite end of the building. I grabbed the list, the envelopes, and my tote bag containing my purse and sneakers, and set up in another area. I was a portable temp. Cramped copier room, lunch-going secretary’s desk. Didn’t matter. Chris, the port-a-temp. Then Marybeth emphasized the obvious:

“Don’t get too comfortable.”

I nodded and continued lining up the tabs on the typewriter. It was the story of my port-a-temp career–I wasn’t ever comfortable. I got told what to do by secretaries and junior secretaries. Even clerks. I did other people’s work for less money.

Read the book’s description here: Diary of a Hollywood Nobody

Hollywood After Dark: 3 Tales of Terror ~ An Excerpt

By Lisa Maliga

copyright 2013

hollywood after dark 3 tales of terror lisa maligaThis October, why not consider looking at some different horror books? More psychological than bloody, these three novelettes contained within the pages of Hollywood After Dark: 3 Tales of Terror, all take place in a certain area of Los Angeles. They also contain some fairly ambitious main characters. Available in both eBook and paperback formats. 138 pages.

The motivation for An Author’s Nightmare, a horror/chick lit tale, came about after reading some bragging posts on a forum about how successful a chick lit writer claimed she was. It gave me the idea for this dark story.

Here’s an excerpt:

That day I heard a radio in the laundry room as the grungy new tenant who worked at a vintage clothing store, always brought along her radio when she did her laundry. I overheard a news reporter describe the untimely death of a literary legend on Mulholland Drive in a freak accident early that morning. “Mega Best Seller Harvey Boston, author of the successful Legionnaire Series, apparently lost control of his Ferrari when it spun out of control and tumbled down an embankment to the bottom of a ravine near Mulholland and Coldwater Canyon.”

Staring at the computer screen open to a new, untitled document, I sat there and gazed upon it, as though willing a new manuscript into existence. I said, “I’d do anything to sell a book manuscript—anything. I’d even sell my soul!” I remember laughing about that, as I didn’t believe in anything as silly as that as there was no god and there was no devil.

And that’s when I noticed the weather icon went crazy the numbers turned red and went from 87 to 88 to 89 and kept getting higher and higher until they stopped at 105. The temperature in the room increased and I was ready to take off my shirt I was so hot and clammy. And that’s when the name came to me: Carlotta’s Cakery: Book 1 Magical Cakes of Love! Yes, that was it, my new book title and I knew how to bake and why the hell hadn’t I thought of that before? Seconds later I had the first line of my book: “My name is Carlotta Sue Carter and I’m the owner of Carlotta’s Cakery. I bake the most awesome personal sized cakes in Brentwood, California, if not the United States!” And that was how it all began.

Paperback available at Amazon

All other purchase links: https://lisamaliga.wordpress.com/novels/hollywood-after-dark-3-tales-of-terror/