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  • Vicki FitzGerald

Part Two - The Story of Beauty & The Beast



The Beauty Speaks:

Trust me, Matt is no beast. He’s a loveable American oozing fun and he charmed me the moment he spoke in his hip, New Yorker accent. I was in awe of his book success and wanted to get to know him more. Matt smiled, invited me to join him, and I explained I was there to pitch my thriller, Kill List, for a movie adaption to Emmy-nominated producer, Ken Atchity.


Matt loved the plot, even laughed at my warped mind. He was sincere, kind, and mentored me. He convinced me that I’d nail my pitch. I didn’t! Nerves swamped me. Matt shook his head and whispered, “You f***ed that up!” I wanted to burst into tears and fall apart. My husband had just left me, and the one shot I had at a new life, had crashed. I’d let myself, my kids, and Matt, down.


Matt learned that my smile was masking much pain. He suggested writing a true-life book about me. I laughed, shook my head, and said: “No, thanks.” He shrugged, disappointed, and we headed to Dublin’s famous Temple Bar. After much laughter, and almost postponing my flight, I headed back to England, thinking I’d lost my chance of a movie, but had found a good friend indeed.


Over the next year, I fell fast and hard. There were suicide attempts, a car crash, an arrest, and I was assaulted. I’d hit rock bottom. But my gut told me I still had something special, Kill List. I returned to Dublin to pitch again to Ken and reunite with Matt. This time around I won - Ken wanted my film treatment! Matt smiled; I’d made him proud. Over a celebratory Gin, I said: “I’m ready now, it’s time.” I hoped my story could inspire those at rock bottom to start climbing.


Writing is lonely. We sit alone, hammering out our stories, praying readers will love our work. Collaborating with Matt was a different matter. I’d stun him with yet another tale, and we would laugh for hours over Skype calls. I came to trust Matt with my life. I’ve gained a guardian, a protector, and a wonderful father figure. It was written in the stars that our paths would collide. Maybe all my mistakes, weren’t mistakes after all, they were fate.




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