conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first five paragraphs for a book with the title 'Twilight Eyes'
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Twilight Eyes
  This time I was lured into the tar by a producer who seemed to be neither a crook nor a maniac, and the fact that he had nine distinct personalities—seven more than the average producer and four fewer than the average director—seemed to be something with which I could easily deal. Indeed, I liked all of his personalities except for Viola, a reincarnation who claimed to have been a mistress of Napoleon's and a poisoner of clergymen in nineteenth century France.
  As we developed a pitch to take to the various networks, we had only two serious disagreements, the first being that he wanted Rya Raines not to be an entrepreneur in the carnival, as she was in the novel, but instead to be a stripper in one of the girly shows. He had a young actress in mind for the part, one who, as he put it, "has knockers that would cast a shadow to Japan if she was standing on the Malibu beach at sunrise." If our female lead, in fact, proved to be that prodigiously endowed, most of our budget per episode would have been spent on elaborate lighting setups to ensure that the other cast members were not perpetually in a mammary eclipse. I wondered if she could get close enough to a dinner table to reach her food, and if her arms looked as out of proportion to her bosom as the arms of a T. rex were out of proportion to its head. I had a few nightmares about this, and I count myself lucky never to have met the poor woman.
  After only a few weeks of debate, I won the point, Rya remained an entrepreneur, and then the producer moved on to the argument that Slim, in addition to having the unusual sixth sense that he does, should be a Kung Fu master. Fortunately, I had exhausted him in the entrepreneur-or-stripper debate, and he gave up on Kung Fu Slim after less than a week of discussion—and after I shot him in the foot. All right, I didn't shoot him in the foot, but I considered doing so.
  In all the rambling, ever-spiraling, frequently insane discussions that I'd had with my producer, the subject of clowns had never arisen. I felt bozo blindsided.
  I didn't want clowns. In fact, I suggested I'd accept an elephant before I'd add clowns. They assured me that clowns are really scary, and one of them—I no longer recall which—wanted me to understand that clowns are scarier than elephants.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: another paragraph
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: In all the rambling, ever-spiraling, frequently insane discussions that I'd had with my producer, the subject of clowns had never arisen. I felt bozo blindsided.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last five paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: After only a few weeks of debate, I won the point, Rya remained an entrepreneur, and then the producer moved on to the argument that Slim, in addition to having the unusual sixth sense that he does, should be a Kung Fu master. Fortunately, I had exhausted him in the entrepreneur-or-stripper debate, and he gave up on Kung Fu Slim after less than a week of discussion—and after I shot him in the foot. All right, I didn't shoot him in the foot, but I considered doing so.
  In all the rambling, ever-spiraling, frequently insane discussions that I'd had with my producer, the subject of clowns had never arisen. I felt bozo blindsided.
  I didn't want clowns. In fact, I suggested I'd accept an elephant before I'd add clowns. They assured me that clowns are really scary, and one of them—I no longer recall which—wanted me to understand that clowns are scarier than elephants.
  Let's just say that over the course of the meeting, I came to the conclusion that I would cut off my left leg before I would develop the series with that network.
  At the other network, an executive—let's call him Hopeless, although that wasn't his name—didn't want the carnival, but he did not want the circus, either. He thought that Slim should be a homicide detective who sees the goblins among us. Hopeless also felt that Slim, in addition to his sixth sense, should be able to transform himself into a "good goblin" who could beat the crap out of the bad creatures. In this scenario, Rya would be a "sexy Internal Affairs investigator or a sexy reporter" who loves Slim but is always half a step away from discovering that he is a shapeshifter. In addition, Slim should have a thirteen-year-old sister, whom he has had to look after ever since goblins killed their parents, and the sister "should have a teenage-girl garage band that brings a rocker sensibility into the war against the goblins."