Hello, this is Mack, co -creator of Write Is Wrong,
a story I wrote with my great friend Bob. After
a trip to LA in 2013, Bob and I were inspired
to write a story about four friends navigating
the challenges of Generation X middle age and
the gap between youthful ambitions and adult
realities. In the end, Write Is Wrong is about
the courage required to admit that the life you're
living isn't the life you want, and the even
greater courage required to do something about
it. In Hollywood, where dreams go to die as often
as they come to life, these four friends rediscover
something that they thought they'd lost. The
possibility that their story isn't over yet.
So let's get started. Chapter 1. Sunday Morning
Revelations. The Los Angeles sun pierced through
the blinds like an unwelcome intruder, dragging
Bob from his sleep with all the subtlety of a
jackhammer. At 45, with long black hair that
had seen better decades and a graying goatee
that made him look perpetually tired, Bob had
developed a particular hatred for mornings, especially
bright ones. He sat up in bed, stretched his
arms overhead with a theatrical yawn, and glared
at the offending sunlight as if it had personally
wronged him. Another beautiful day in paradise,
he muttered to himself, swinging his legs over
the side of the bed. Outside, San Vicente Boulevard
stretched before him like a concrete river leading
to his past. Bob slipped on his sunglasses and
began the familiar walk up the hill towards Sunset
Boulevard, passing the iconic Whiskey -A -Go
-Go that had witnessed countless nights of his
youth. The building stood there like an old friend,
weathered, but still standing, much like Bob
himself. Meanwhile, across town, Jake was experiencing
his own morning reckoning. The 45 -year -old
copywriter lay sprawled on his living room couch.
still wearing the previous night's shoes. Never
a good sign. His wife Lisa, 39 and visibly pregnant,
stood over him holding a coffee mug and wearing
the expression of someone who had reached the
end of her patience. Hey, babe, she said, her
voice carrying that particular tone wives reserve
for husbands who've disappointed them yet again.
Jake opened his eyes, squinting against the light
like a vampire caught on daybreak. His tall,
skinny frame unfolded awkwardly as he tried to
orient himself in his own living room. Morning
already? he groaned, his voice rough with hangover
and regret. Have a good time last night? Lisa
asked, though her tone suggested she already
knew the answer. Yeah, I think so, Jake replied,
the uncertainty in his voice betraying him. The
sight of his shoes still laced tight on his feet
answered several questions he wasn't ready to
ask. Did I... how did I get home? Seriously?
Lisa's eyebrows shot up. You don't remember?
Man, I feel like shit, Jake admitted, running
his hands through his short hair. I figured you'd
say that, Lisa said, handing him the coffee mug.
Here's your Baileys and coffee. Sit up. As Jake
accepted the hair of the dog remedy, Lisa sat
beside him, her hand unconsciously resting on
her belly. The weight of unspoken conversations
hung between them like morning fog. When are
you going to stop doing this to yourself, she
asked, her voice softer now, tinged with genuine
concern rather than anger. Soon, hopefully, Jake
replied, though they both knew it was the kind
of promise that had been made and broken before.
In case you forgot, we have a baby on the way.
I didn't forget. You seem to remind me every
day. The words hung in the air between them,
sharper than either had intended. Lisa's face
tightened, and Jake immediately regretted his
tone. Is that a problem for you? Lisa asked,
her voice cooling. Is that why you're still getting
drunk all the time? You're nervous about this?
I don't know, Jake admitted, which was perhaps
the most honest thing he'd said all morning.
Maybe. I mean, what if I'm terrible at? At what?
Being a dad. Being responsible for another human
being. What if I screw it up? Lisa's expression
softened slightly. That's not really the answer
I was looking for, but at least it's honest.
After checking the time, 11 o 'clock, later than
he'd hoped, Jake remembered his commitment to
meet the gang for coffee. Shit. I gotta go. Are
you kidding me? Lisa's voice rose again. You
were out all night and now you're leaving again?
I'm sorry, honey. Vanessa's heading back to New
York today. It could be a while before we see
her again. Lisa studied his face for a moment,
then sighed. Fine. But we need to talk when you
get back. You can't keep this up. I know, Jake
said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. Thanks
for the coffee. And for, you know, putting up
with me. Just go. Lisa said, but there was a
hint of a smile on her face before I changed
my mind. Okay, thanks for checking out this special
Write is Wrong preview episode. Be sure to check
back soon for more episodes. Thanks for listening.