Hollywood or Hoax?

The Email That Almost Took My Novel to Netflix

WHO SHOULD PLAY POPE GREGORY?

There’s a particular dream that sits quietly in the back of every novelist’s mind.

It’s the fantasy that one day, an email will land in your inbox from a powerful agent or producer who says:

I read your book and I’m blown away. Let’s make it into a movie.

Last week, I received that email. And for a brief, dizzying moment, I believed my life was about to change.

The Email That Lit the Fuse

It was crafted beautifully, speaking of Netflix, HBO, Amazon. Of “sweeping, cinematic vision.” Of The Seven Seeds becoming a limited series or feature-film trilogy. It compared my story to The Man in the High Castle and The Last Kingdom.

They laid out an enticing vision:

• A richly layered saga of alternate history and myth.

• Visually stunning world-building.

• Themes of redemption and sacrifice with international appeal.

They offered an industry-standard 10% agency commission. They suggested a quick 15–20 minute call to discuss how to pitch my story to streaming giants.

I read it once and thought, 'No way.'

Then I read it again. And again. And the dreamer in me whispered: Maybe…

Hooked by Hope

The next day, I got a text from the “agent,” eager to set up a call. I agreed. Only minutes later, another text arrived:

Sorry—just got pulled into a meeting with HBO. Can we reschedule?

HBO. The letters themselves glowed in my brain. What if it’s true?

A little voice kept nagging at me that it was, in fact, too good to be true. But hope can be louder than caution, especially when it echoes a secret wish you’ve carried for years.

And for those few electrifying days, my imagination ran wild. I pictured The Seven Seeds on a giant screen. I saw the marble corridors of a Rome that never fell, lit by neon and haunted by old gods. I imagined a modern-day Pope stepping through a hidden arch beneath the Vatican—and emerging into an empire still ruled by Jupiter and Mars.

In the quiet cinema of my mind, I kept casting scenes with actors like Mark Rylance, whose subtlety can speak volumes without a word; Anthony Hopkins, all commanding presence and the glint of secrets in his eyes; Ralph Fiennes, brooding and magnetic, carrying storms beneath a poised exterior; and Stanley Tucci, erudite and endlessly watchable, the kind of actor who can fold wit and warmth into a single glance.

I pictured them donning papal robes, delivering lines that once only lived in my head, now echoing in hushed cinematic cathedrals.

Suspicion Sets In

After a few days of fantasizing—and still no call—I finally reached out to a friend in the film and TV industry who is familiar with such matters.

His answer was immediate:

Sounds like a scam, Neil. Be careful.

That single warning hit like a pebble in a still pond. Ripples of doubt spread through every bright corner of my imagination, warping the dream until its edges looked unnervingly sharp. If the promise was genuine, it would survive the glare of scrutiny; if it wasn’t, better to watch it crack under my own deliberate pressure than let it shatter me later.

When Dreams Become Bait

What I found was clear—and devastating.

The email domain was fake. Real agents at that company used an entirely different domain.

The phone number wasn’t listed anywhere as connected to the agency.

The real agent existed, but under entirely different contact information.

Scammers often lace their traps with real industry details—such as the commission rate—to make the fantasy seem authentic.

But the worst part wasn’t the risk of being scammed. It was how deeply I’d let myself believe. How willingly I’d been pulled in by the idea that my story could light up a screen. How my vulnerable ego and longing for validation had made me easy prey.

For a few brilliant days, I’d lived inside a shimmering possibility. Losing that hope felt like the cruelest cost of all.

The Call That Sealed It

Still, a tiny part of me clung to the possibility.

So I did what my producer friend advised: I called the real talent agency directly.

An assistant picked up the phone. I explained the situation. She sighed.

This is the second call I’ve gotten about this in two days.

There it was—confirmed. A hoax. Someone out there was impersonating a real agent and dangling

Hollywood dreams in front of me.

The Emotional Roller Coaster

I won’t pretend it didn’t sting.

For a couple of days, I was floating on a cloud of possibility. I pictured my story coming alive on screen. I imagined red carpets, streaming premieres, actors giving interviews about my characters.

Then reality swept in like a sudden gust, scattering the glittering visions I’d gathered.

But please don’t worry. My bubble may have popped, but my desire to keep writing, to keep dreaming, and to keep pressing on remains completely unshaken.

Because the love of storytelling runs deeper than any disappointment, the hope of seeing my words touch others, or even light up a screen one day, still fuels me. The thrill of creating new worlds, of exploring the “what ifs,” of giving life to characters who feel real—that’s what keeps me going.

Scams and setbacks may bruise me for a moment, but they can’t extinguish the fire. I’ll keep putting words on the page. I’ll keep believing that somewhere out there, the right opportunity—and the right people—will cross paths with my work.

And I’ll keep daring to dream, because that’s what writers do.

Cinema of the Mind

So while I wait for Hollywood to discover me, I’d love for you to be the director, the cinematographer, and the audience all at once.

If The Seven Seeds never flashes across a silver screen or pops up in your Netflix queue, it can still unfold in the richest cinema there is—your own mind.

Come slip through the hidden arch beneath the Vatican with Pope Gregory. Stand beneath Roman temples that never fell. Wander an empire where the old gods still reign and compassion might yet rewrite history. It’s all there waiting, frame by frame, line by line.

Whether you’re turning pages, swiping a screen, or listening as the story plays out in your ears, you’ll be the first to witness this world come alive. And if the day comes when cameras finally roll, you’ll be able to lean back and say, “I was there before the lights ever hit the set.”

Thanks for sticking with me. The writing continues, the dreaming continues—and the reel is still spinning.

See you in the story.