"Frey said he had just finished an outline for the book, and was about to start writing it. "It's the third book of the Bible, called The Final Testament of the Holy Bible," he told interviewer and fellow author Stephen Elliott. "My idea of what the Messiah would be like if he were walking the streets of New York today. What would he believe? What would he preach? How would he live? With who?"
FROM THE NY POST:
"Following in the risque footsteps of HBO's "Hung" and Showtime's "Secret Diary of a Call Girl," HBO has a show in the works about the pornography business...Reached by Page Six, Frey, who's writing the pilot, said, "We're going to make a sprawling epic about the porn business in LA. We're going to tell the type of stories no one else has told before, and go places no one has gone before."
PATTERSON: "Sit down, Frey. You can sit in the good leather chair if you want. Mary? Please hold all my calls for the next ten minutes."
FREY: "Mr. P-p-p-patterson...I'm ss-ss-sss-orry about..."
PATTERSON: "I said sit the fuck down, Frey. Now sit down. Relax."
FREY: "I was just doing what you told me. Marketing first. Fuck 'em all. Middle fingers in the air. I was just doing what you said."
PATTERSON: "Listen, Frey. You were a Sigma Epsilon Sigma. Otherwise, I would have already cut your balls off and fed them to my owl. Do you know about my owl?"
FREY: "No, Mr. Patterson."
PATTERSON: "Well, he eats balls, Frey. He eats the balls of writers who cross me. I have a plan. WE have a plan. What the fuck are you doing out there? You are everywhere. You are throwing wild girl punches like a goddamn foxy boxer. Are you on the drugs again?"
FREY: "I never did drugs before...I mean that was the whole deal...I mean...people wanted a drug memoir..."
PATTERSON: "Never mind that. Are you on drugs now?"
FREY: "A little bit. I mean, I'm Sigma Epsilon Sigma! I like to party."
PATTERSON AND FREY TOGETHER: "Sigma Episilon Sigma! We know where the party's at, like a fucking radar bat!"
PATTERSON: "Christ, I miss college. I miss the blowjobs. Do you miss the blowjobs, Frey?"
FREY: "Yes sir."
PATTERSON: "There will be blowjobs again, Frey, if you just stick to the PLAN. Now what's this I'm reading about? You are trying to write a book about Jesus? And you are writing a Hollywood show about pornography? What about the plan, Frey?"
FREY: "I wanted to explore Jesus. Jesus and tits. I wanted to write stories about porn and Jesus."
PATTERSON: "Listen, Frey. Let me tell you how this looks to the outside world. Shitty writers write about Jesus and porn. These shitty writers look at America and they watch a lot of television, and they think that's what people want. But here's the fucking deal, Frey: people who want Jesus or porn will GO TO CHURCH OR JACK OFF. They don't read. They don't think. They are primal Americans. Readers want smart black detectives or children with wings."
FREY: "I thought..."
PATTERSON: "You don't HAVE ideas. Listen to me. I know you hang around writers all the time, but don't let that shit go to your head. You don't HAVE ideas, Frey. I know what that is like. I know exactly what that is like. It's not fun. It makes you crazy. But we deserve to be writers, you and I. We deserve it because we want it more. Now what are the rules? What did I teach you?"
FREY: "Spread, buy, and brand."
PATTERSON: "IS this Jesus thing about guilt? Are you starting to feel guilty? Never feel guilty."
FREY: "It's marketing...I looked at the marketing statistics. If you put Jesus or porn in your title..."
PATTERSON: "Who the FUCK do you think you are talking to? I sold one billion books last year. ONE BILLION BOOKS. I sold books like Taco Bell sells tacos. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. Mary? Bring us two frosty brews in frosty glasses."
FREY: "I tried to do what you said. I found somebody with ideas and we wrote a book together. I took the data report you gave me and I tried to do a good job. You said aliens were next, and so I made him write a book about aliens. It was called "I Am Number 4"..."
PATTERSON: "It did good, didn't it?"
FREY: "It did okay."
PATTERSON: "Look, you can't just produce one book in a year and expect to get anywhere. You have to produce TEN books. You need a bigger operation. You can't just have one thrall. You need FORTY thralls. Do you know how many students are out there right now, enrolled in MFA programs, thinking they are gonna be the next Toni Morrison or Jonathan Lethem?"
FREY: "I don't know...thousands?"
PATTERSON: "Two hundred thousand, Frey. And that's good money. Those MFA folks, they are good people. But they dump their candidates out in the end, and that is a wasted mind. Wasted discipline. Wasted programming. That is a wasted thrall. Our job is to put these MFA kids to work. To catch what the programs throw at us. To find a place for them in the new publishing world that we are making. That we are making TOGETHER."
FREY: "I got a phone call. From Joyce."
PATTERSON: "She threatened you? She scared you?"
FREY: "She is terrifying. She told me things about myself. Things I didn't even know..."
PATTERSON: "She's a real writer, no kidding. Don't let her scare you. You just stick to the plan. Yes, she has ideas. Yes, she is amazingly productive. But she didn't sell a billion books last year, so fuck her. Don't let the real writers scare you. Get out there into the MFA programs. Start finding your thralls. I have a hundred and twenty thralls right now. I don't even have to write outlines anymore. I pay somebody to write outlines. Put your Jesus book aside and terminate your bullshit HBO contract. You want to dilute your brand? You are big bad James Frey. Come back to me when you have twenty thralls and we'll talk."
FREY: "Yes sir."
PATTERSON: "Soon you will be eyeballs deep in blowjobs. Oh God, we will live forever, Frey. Me and you. Living forever. We will BE this century. Like Coleridge and Wordsworth. Sigma Epsilon Sigmas. Real men."
FREY: "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being such a mess."
PATTERSON: "Say the words I taught you."
FREY: "Spread, buy, and brand. Marketing first. Fuck 'em all. Middle fingers in the air."
PATTERSON: "Good boy. Let me tell you something about Joyce Carol Oates. She used to be James Carol Oates. A James. Like us."
FREY: "What happened to her?
PATTERSON: "I told you what happens to writers who cross me, didn't I?"
PATTERSON: "So you just let her make late night phone calls. Worry about the real threats. Rowling. King. Oprah. Show me your middle fingers."
PATTERSON: "Good, Frey. Excellent."
FREY: "We don't care who we piss off, do we James? Do we? Yeah! We are the big time! We are the best!"
PATTERSON: "Just stick with me, kid. We will change everything."
Posted by miracle on Sat, 13 Nov 2010 13:07:40 -0600 -- permanent link