We’re trying something a little different today folks. I will be interviewing the male lead from my book “Soul In His Eyes”, Mr. Erik Bartholomew. He has just arrived here in the studio…
Wry lift at the corner of his mouth, eyes gaze into mine with a questioning twinkle, a tease. The lines across his forehead deepen as he narrows those eyes in flirtation. Does he really have the ability to melt me with just the suggestion of a smile?
Hands ruffling already tussled mane, his biceps flex, polo shirt rising to expose slim abs, a path of hair dipping into trouser line.
The arc of his brow frames a dash of mystery, blue eyes that hold secrets and promise. The straight arrow of his nose points to angular chin dusted with soft beard. At his temples a hint of salt in the thick wave of dark hair, unruly wisps playing at his crown. Tendons of wrists divulge tension unseen in his expression. Could he be as nervous to meet as I?
The sapphire blue shirt is reflected in his irises telegraphing open authenticity in but a single glance. As the apples of his cheeks rise, he smiles with such genuine warmth my heart fills in a flush of sensuality. Suddenly appearing the little boy, he squints mock self-consciousness, extends a large hand and speaks in soft burr.
“My name’s Erik. Nice to meet you.”
****
In July of 2005 a woman wrote a note of appreciation and love to the actor in a movie musical never expecting to receive a reply. We’re here today interviewing Scot film sensation; Erik Bartholomew about his unlikely dealings with fans…one in particular.
Ms. London: Thanks for stopping by our studio today.
Erik: Cheers, then.
Ms. London: Magazines and news media alike have reported on your love affair with your fans. You visit their conventions held in your name, stop to sign autographs even on location, joke with them backstage when appearing on talk shows. You are a man well loved in return. Tell me…this Mystery woman of yours. It’s been rumored you have more than the casual online relationship with a certain California lass.
Erik: We’ve been corresponding some months now, yes. She’s a particularly scholarly woman and has had quite a few insights to share.
Ms. London: And there is nothing more?
Erik: The woman you refer to lives six thousand miles from me. She has an astute sense of things, me in particular.
Ms. London: So she wrote a fan letter to you?
Erik: Yes, of sorts. It was much more detailed than the usual.
Ms. London: Must have been for you to take notice.
Erik: I try to look at as many of my correspondence as possible. Since the release of Midnight Music I am afraid the numbers have overwhelmed me. I use a very adroit and sensitive agency to help me along those lines.
Ms. London: There have been many reports of your personal response from your fans. You have even called a few?
Erik: I have. Ring them up when something moves me. Mostly in an attempt at support. There was one woman who’d just lost her mum and was so shattered. She’d written letters of appreciation to me in the past. I felt her pain through her words. You know—sometimes fans feel a bit like family.
Ms. London: And this Ms. California?
Erik: She’s a gem, almost a soothsayer of sorts. She’s seen into me in a personal way. You know—she understands that this business is not all lights and glamour.
Ms. London: How so?
Erik: Well---one minute you’re just another bloke strolling down Hyde Park unrecognised, the next you’re being chased through the streets of Soho nearly to your door. It gets old. Sometimes intrusive, often impersonal.
Ms. London: How can that be when the object of fan’s affections is you?
Erik: Don’t misunderstand me luv. Most fans are respectful of me…my time and personhood. What they don’t recognize is the isolation. When you start becoming known and your days are filled with work sometimes 16 hours straight, you have little time to be in the ‘real world’ meeting everyday people. Sometimes the girl at Starbucks is the only hen I meet in the course of a day. By the time I’m back at the hotel it’s late, I’m knackered and I’ve got to do it all over again with 6:30 call.
Ms. London: So the world’s hottest bachelor has no time for women?
Erik: Long and the short of it…yeah.
Ms. London: The Internet connection makes sense then?
Erik: Not sure I can say that. Nothing’s made sense since she’s been writin’ me. She seems to know what’s brewing inside me head before I do. That’s what’s weird.
Ms. London: And what will you do next location shoot? I hear you will be even more isolated than usual.
Erik: Yes. Iceland startin’ November 13. Won’t be back in the modern world until late winter.
Ms. London: For the tulips to bloom in Russell Square?
Erik: Surely by then.
Ms. London: (laughs) So Ms. Mystery will be your only solace. Or perhaps you have given your e-mail address to others.
Erik: No, no I never do. That would overwhelm me.
Ms. London: So we won’t expect to see it posted at EB.net anytime soon.
Erik: (chuckles) Not even so much as an on set photo.
Ms. London: Then what I’ve heard is true…you won’t have Internet or phone access.
Erik: Pretty much. We will be shooting in the wilds. The film is about Early Christian era Scandinavian warriors and Billy---our director—has decided to shoot without any CGI. He wouldn’t be wantin’ any phone wires showin’ or airplanes flyin’ over.
Ms. London: No Ms California then either.
Erik: No.
Ms. London: Unless you take the lady along.
Erik: You seem to have some misinformation. My lady friend is happily married teaching in the L.A. area. It’s words pure and simple between us.
Ms. London: It seems you are the loneliest man in London.
Erik: Sometimes feels that way, yes.
Ms. London: After this interview I expect you’ll be receiving more mail than you know what to do with. All the ladies will want to be added to your e-contacts---certainly enough to keep you company on the long Icelandic nights.
Erik: I expect I’ll have a snowmobile to spirit me across the tundra. Don’t you be worrying about me then.
Ms London: You’ve been working out for this one have you?
Erik: My personal trainer sees to the everyday and I am practicing choreography for the sword fightin’, accent training as well.
Ms. London: Might come in handy to fight off a jealous husband or two?
Erik: No worries there. I’m an honourable man.
Ms. London: Is there anywhere we might read more about this actor’s angst of yours?
Erik: I’ve been told theirs a fictionalized version written by some woman with like experience. (winks) But then they say I’ll be playing Rabbi Burns next summer and some fictional Scot character Jamie in a made for t.v. saga over 16 nights. (Laughs) We’ll just wait and see on those.
Ms. London: In the meantime your fans can read this fictionalized account?
Erik: Long as they know it’s just that.
Ms. London: Thank you for coming in today. We’ll look forward to the fall release of your thriller Bird in a Cage and the upcoming Icelandic Tale when?
Erik: Toronto Film festival next year I expect. We’ll see about international distribution as the time approaches. I’ll leave that to the powers that be. Cheers.
Ms. London: To read about the fictionalized life of one hot Scot actor go to Phaze.com opening page. ‘Select a Phaze author and title for quick access’ from the pull down menu—Christine London and then a title immediately below “SOUL IN HIS EYES”—click on ‘go’ and you’ll be linked to the purchase page. Or click this link: http://www.king-cart.com/Phaze/product=Soul+in+His+Eyes/exact_match=exact
****
Scottish Film star, Erik Bartholomew is rescued from the lonely isolation of fame by an unlikely fan living half a world away. Little does she know he will return the favor when her world is torn apart by tragedy.
Excerpt:
Erik swung his leg over the seat of the red snowmobile. A month and a half of shooting had passed and he was going stir-crazy, having seen far too much of the interior of kwanset huts and tents. Christmas had been spent on site. The slow progress of the shoot and the expense of having full crew and cast demanded it.
He turned over the engine and took off in a cloud of powdered snow. It was that eerily beautiful twilight that seemed to exist only at this latitude. The horizon glowed in cold pinks, blues and indigos; the stark white of the landscape rolling softly towards it. Escaping from his responsibilities, he hoped to find some arctic atmosphere and solitude. The sound of the engine purred in his ears through the helmet. He searched ahead, scanning for hills and dunes that would allow him to slip the constraints of gravity. The sensation reminded him of dirt biking in the American Southwest over dunes of sand. The air cut past him, the speed intoxicated. As he shot over the top of each crest, his thighs squeezed the seat tightly. The possibility of being hurled off into some drift was exhilarating.
As his eyes swept across the tundra, the waves of chromatic rainbowing began. Dimly, at first, then with increasing intensity, the undulating curtains of colour moved in a rhythmic dance across the sky. If he never got to see another one of the thousand things and places he wanted to see before he died, he could exit at peace. First thing he’d do at the pearly gates, is to thank the Lord for having let him see this haunting mystical phenomenon. It was the most spectacular holiday season he could remember.
He longed to share the moment with Christine and wondered what she was doing as he flew over the frozen threshold between heaven and earth. He visualized her arms clinging around his waist, warm breath at his neck, peels of laughter as they sailed across the crests of the snow-laden ground.
He missed her sense of humor, her gentle reassurances, and deep insights. It seemed an eternity since the last e-mail, with a great chasm of time still stretching out ahead before he could return to the techno-realities of the twenty first century and touch her with his words. He sped up, trying to freeze such longings from his mind.
Music: Three Door Down Here Without You
****
What ensued was a spectacular ballet of men, horses and swordplay. Erik and Rune’s mounts charged at a gallop. The men streamed past each other turning their horses back to confront. Each man had his weapon in his hand.
“Is that the way it’s supposed to go, Doug?”
“Yes. They will dismount and face each other in the next bit.”
Billy cut the scene and called for a retake. She breathed a sigh of relief. “Will they actually fight each other today?”
“That has already been shot, ma’am. It required more close up work and we’re shooting only the generic action in between; you know, stunt stuff.”
“Yeah, Erik did tell me that,” she said absently. “That’s why he didn’t need to be here. They can film it with his stunt double.”
“Just so, miss.”
The two groups of men reset, action was called. As the fight unfolded, she watched in amazement at the coordination and grace of the actors and their animals.
As Erik and Rune approached each other on their speeding horses, she saw Rune raise his sword, on the far side of his horse away from the camera.” She gasped, as he swung it above his head, around and downward toward Erik’s passing steed.
Erik’s horse swerved to the right, narrowly avoiding collision. The momentum threw Erik to the ground, his sword being knocked from his grasp. Rune’s horse reared on hind legs. As he quieted, Rune dismounted and approached Erik.
“Ya all right, mate?” he asked as Erik regained his feet.
Erik delivered a right hook, forcing Rune to stumble backwards, his sword lowered, but still in his hand. As Rune was off balance, Erik quickly picked up his sword from the ground and came at him. Rune defended, blocking Erik’s blow in quick reaction.
“What the fuck are ya doin’, man; forcin’ me off my horse?” Erik spit the words out.
Rune returned the sword blow with an upward thrust, the force of which knocked both men’s weapons from their hands. Startled, they froze for a moment. Erik tackled Rune, both rolling to the ground; each exchanging punches as they struggled to regain their footing.
Two of the cast had by this time, dismounted and were actively trying to separate the two men.
Billy ran toward them, yelling, “All right, boys, brake up this nonsense”. As cast restrained each, they glared at the other, catching their breath, rage in their eyes. Blood trickled from Rune’s nose. Erik’ cheek had a scrape across it. Both men had dirt and sweat covering them.
“I don’t know what’s goin’ on with you two, but it’s to stop right here,” Billy shouted as he stood between the restrained men. “I’ll have none of this unprofessional behaviour on my set.”
“He bloody well forced me off my horse, Billy. You know that’s not in the script,” Erik ranted, shaking the arms of his restrainer off him and standing full height, fists tight at his sides. Rune jerked his arms upward, breaking the hold of the man containing him.
“I didn’t mean for your horse to get spooked, man,” he growled.
“What the fuck did you expect, weildin’ that bleedin’ sword at the last minute?”
“Enough!” Billy shouted. “You’re both through for the mornin’. I want to see you in my office. One hour.”
****
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