The Rise and Fall, and Everything After

It’s been one hell of a month, from celebrating my birthday to pointing a laser rifle at a coworker, and so it seems like a good time to blog.

San Diego Comic-Con

I always look at Comic-Con as an opportunity to see people that I don’t get to see the rest of the year. This year was a bit of a bust, coverage speaking, as we didn’t have the big crazy moments that have punctuated most years (unless you count the photo here of me being twins with Rick and Morty co-creator Dan Harmon, or the one I sent my boss of me pretending to threaten my coworker).

As I continue to struggle with my self-esteem, though, it was nice to see several of the people who got me to where I am today. I was reunited with my friend Coby Bell in The Gifted for the first time in at least five years. It’s been so long that neither of us can remember, but Coby was one of the first friends I made in this business and for years was in my corner both professionally and personally. One of my favorite moments of con was overhearing him tell the reporter after me, “Good luck following the great Brittany over there.” He had no idea how much those words meant to me.

There’s my big brother from another mother Michael Trucco, without whom I’d have half of a career and got to see at the Battlestar Galactica reunion. I can never say enough good things about Michael, or about Tricia Helfer, or my childhood hero Linden Ashby, or my favorite Twitter friend Ben Daniels as thank heaven we have another season of The Exorcist. These are people who have shaped me no matter how infrequently our paths cross and I love them.

But what really surprised me at Comic-Con was being recognized and remembered by people I never expected to. When I first met Maggie Lawson I was on my second novel and at the relative start of my career, and more than a decade later she still knew who I was. It reminded me how far I’ve come and that I do leave an impression. And it also brings me to…

The Return of Suits (and the Return of Good Ideas)

The new season of Suits is here, which means I’ve spent the last three weeks trying to talk myself out of writing another novel inspired by Gabriel Macht.

Gabriel is an acting genius, and a few years ago watching his performance as Harvey Specter directly inspired me to create the character of Kevin Creighton, a Los Angeles-based corporate attorney who winds up being involved in several high-profile criminal cases. Ben Daniels played his opposite number, which is probably not a coincidence, and I had an incredible amount of fun writing for the two of them.

So naturally, now that Gabriel is back on my TV screen, I’m wondering what Kevin would be doing now and telling myself I can’t start a sixth novel to find out.

Firstly, let me just give a shoutout to Gabriel Macht and say he’s one of my favorite actors to watch because I’m constantly inspired by what he does. I love watching him work and the choices he makes, and just appreciate his process. He’s also a great person off-screen and someone I always love getting to talk to, even if I usually say something dorky along the way.

But he’s also the reason I wrote my last novel, after we had an offhand conversation at Hotel Cafe that made the lightbulb go on over my head. And that happens a lot. I have the incredible gift of being able to learn from so much talent and turn that into my next idea. When you put me in front of an actor of his caliber, especially with the level of writing that we get on Suits, my brain just runs off with itself. It doesn’t care if I have eight other things to do. It just constantly is inspired to create.

So don’t be surprised if a short story turns up next week detailing the return of Kevin Creighton.

How Many Times Can I Attempt To Kill Him?

I’ve spent what little free time I’ve had this month (all three days of it) continuing to work on my new TV series. Which as I’ve mentioned on this blog before is a pretty dark and intense place to live in. One of my requirements is that every episode must put at least one main character into legitimate peril, which means that people are getting kicked around a lot.

Namely, a certain friend of mine, whose character has now almost died three times over the span of 18 episodes.

This was not on purpose. This was sheer coincidence, as this week I broke the story for an episode in which one of my two lead characters is exposed to a lethal street drug and spends the 42 minutes hospitalized while half the episode takes place in his own head. The one it makes the most sense for is the character who has internal demons to work out—which happens to be the guy I’ve already tried to kill twice.

It almost makes me laugh, because I don’t mean to be so cruel to the same actor. He happens to be one of my best friends, and somebody I’d want to keep on the show for as long as he could stand it. But I’m just torturing him, really, and I feel terrible about it.

Even as it’s added another layer to my understanding of the character, asking myself why he’d keep putting himself in life-threatening situations. I have a whole character arc now that I wouldn’t have had before if I wasn’t trying to justify this.

But still. I’m not that mean.

So I’m sorry, Jeff. I’m not actively trying to kill you. It just keeps happening that way, and at least I’m getting some great material out of it.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I’ve spent my July. Debating how many times is the socially acceptable number to try and kill a fictional character, plotting a novel I don’t have time to write, and going to Comic-Con. What’s next?