ALSO BY CORI McCARTHY
Breaking Sky
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Copyright © 2018 by Cori McCarthy
Cover and internal design © 2018 by Sourcebooks, Inc.
Cover design and illustrations by Ellen Duda
Internal images © LesyaD/Getty Images
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious and are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks, Inc., is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.
Published by Sourcebooks Fire, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: McCarthy, Cori, author.
Title: Now a major motion picture / Cori McCarthy.
Description: Naperville, Illinois : Sourcebooks Fire, [2018] | Summary: In Ireland with her brother during the filming of a movie based on her grandmother’s wildly popular Elementia trilogy, Iris, seventeen, decides to shut down production and end the annoying craze.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017030612 | (pbk. : alk. paper)
Subjects: | CYAC: Motion pictures--Production and direction--Fiction. | Actors and actresses--Fiction. | Dating (Social customs)--Fiction. | Fans (Persons)--Fiction. | Brothers and sisters--Fiction. | Ireland--Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.M47841233 Now 2018 | DDC [Fic]--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017030612
Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
I Don’t Want to Alarm Anyone, but There’s an Elf at Baggage Claim
What Do You Mean “We’re Getting on a Boat?”
Troubles in Nerd Paradise
Meet Cute: Enter Hollywood Hunk Love Interest
Brilliant Craic
In Which I Sprout Gray (or Grey) Hair
The San Andreas Fault and Other Potentially Disastrous Family Formations
Manifest
Meanwhile on Some Little-Known Edge of the World...
If I’m Being Honest, I Have Some Interest in Being Honest
An Irish Interlude
Quality Time with Julian Young
Burn, Baby, Burn Fantasy Inferno
Elementia
In Which Florence Saves the Day...with My Help?
There is Some Kissing in this Chapter
Set ’Em All Up, Knock ’Em All Down
Philip Pullman Will Break Your Heart
How Come When Your Dreams Come True, They Come True All Effed Up?
Downward Dog and Other Miseries
I am Woman, Hear Me Ruin Everything
The Point in the Story Where Everything Has Got to Change
Road Trip
Dr. Jillian Holtzmann for the Win
Dublin’s Fair City Where Eamon’s So Pretty
Boy Bedrooms and Other Unsolved Mysteries
Back to Reality Fantasy
As It Turns Out, Calling Down the Lightning is Exhausting
Untangling the Timeline
Castle on the Rock and Other Biblically Challenging Ideas
The Truth about Scapegirls, I Mean, Scapegoats
Hope is Fantasy, or Maybe It’s the Other Way Around
Michael Edward Thorne, the Edmund/Gollum/Severus Snape of this Production
Sláinte
Surprise! You Get an Epilogue
Iris’s Soundtrack for Now A Major Motion Picture
Glossary
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Back Cover
For J. R. R. Tolkien, who wrote, “It’s a dangerous business, going out your front door.”
And for Peter Jackson, who said, “The most honest form of filmmaking is to make a film for yourself.”
And for my brothers, Evan and Conor, who say,“Keep writing, Stinker Face.”
NOLAN Film: Elementia
Director: Cate Collins
On Location: Day 1
Aran Islands, Ireland
Filming Notes:
CLIFF’S EDGE scene. SEVYN’S STUNT DOUBLE and MAEDINA on deck.
No dialogue will be recorded. Aerial photography and a sea-level crew component. Safety first, people!
Etc. Notes:
M. E. Thorne’s grandchildren arrive at Shannon Airport via Aer Lingus Flight 280 at noon. Volunteer to pick them up?
Dinner at Tí Joe Watty’s following the day’s wrap.
I DON’T WANT TO ALARM ANYONE, BUT THERE’S AN ELF AT BAGGAGE CLAIM
The guy was probably a painter. Possibly a drummer.
College age and wearing all black, he’d been the unique focus of my thousand-hour red-eye. My inflight boyfriend. It was a torrid, imaginary romance. We’d gone on at least a dozen dates and told adorable anecdotes to our future children about how their parents met a few miles in the air.
Now we were no longer separated by two Aer Lingus seats. We were shoulder to shoulder, dazedly watching the baggage belt spin. Just say hi. Ask him something.
I hugged the neck of my guitar case. “Do you know the time?”
He checked a large, silver watch. “Half twelve.”
“What?” I blurted. The bags began to emerge, and I was suddenly under new pressure to break the ice before we parted ways. After all, an entire transatlantic daydream depended on it. “Is that six? Eleven thirty? I’m so jet-lagged it could be either.”
“Twelve thirty.” His Irish accent made his words feel like lyrics to a decent song.
“Yeah, that doesn’t make sense. Half of twelve is six.” I smiled.
“Americans,” he muttered with a snicker.
And he continued snickering as he reached for a suitcase, leaving me with the unparalleled awkwardness of being embarrassed by and disappointed in a complete stranger. I’d mentally dumped him four exotic ways—my favorite involving a baseball stadium video screen—by the time my little brother came running back from the bathroom.
“Iris!” Ryder yelled. “I peed for like two whole minutes. I should’ve timed it!”
The baggage claim crowd parted for him—people tend to do that when someone’s yelling about their urine. Now I really felt like a gross American. Thanks, Ireland. We’re off to a great start.
“Eleven days,” I murmured. “Only eleven days.”
Ryder showed no sign of jet lag. He wrestled a foam fantasy axe out of his backpack, spilling weapons everywhere. He then engaged imaginary opponents in fierce battle while the people from our flight continued to back away. My ex-in-flight boyfriend even gave him a dirty look—before giving me a dirtier look.
“I’m not his mom, you know,” I said as I collected Ryder’s weapons off the floor.
A well-meaning Irish granny stepped up. “Is this your first time in Ireland?” she asked Ryder, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. My brother
