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Clarke realizes that The Wellborn doesn't need her anymore during the first writer's room meeting of season three , and it's like someone poured cold water on her soul.
Bellamy doesn't notice, of course, not because he doesn't care but because he's in the zone, because they spent the last few weeks talking this through, figuring out how to deal with the awkwardness of book perspectives and casting realities, and now he's laying it down for everyone else. Clarke likes the solution Bellamy hit on--doing the third and fourth books simultaneously, over the course of two seasons, instead of doing one season for each--but it was his solution, not hers. She was less a contributor than a sounding board, and she doesn't mind, but--it had been exciting, to be working on something new, to have something she was passionate about.
For Bellamy, that was and is this project; for Clarke, it had been, well, Bellamy. And if she keeps working with him she won't be upset, but she can't help thinking that it might be nice to have her own thing, something to get invested in like he's invested in this.
It's a guilty thought, because this show is hers too, always has been, and she does love it. But she's a problem-solver, and her problems here have been solved. The show's going to keep going for as long as the ratings keep up, and she doesn't need to work her magic to make sure that happens. She could hire a replacement to do what she does now, and they'd do as well with it as she does.
The Wellborn could keep on going without her, but that shouldn't be a bad feeling. It means she's done her job and done it well.
Bellamy slides his arm around her as they head back to the car. "You okay?"
She has to smile. "Just thinking."
"Usually you like thinking."
"I'm thinking I might need a new project," she admits.
"What kind of new project?" His tone is casual, but she can feel the tension where he's pressed against her side. "Like a hobby?"
"Like a show of my own."
"This is your show."
"Bellamy."
"What?"
"I love this show, and I always will. But you don't need me anymore."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Before she can respond, he rubs his face. "Sorry, I know I'm--can I start this over?"
She bites back on a smile. "Sure, go ahead."
"Okay, so--you want a show of your own. That's cool, what were you thinking?"
"I don't really know yet. I was more thinking--I love you, I love the show, I love working with you. But I'm support on this one. I want to do something that makes me as excited as The Wellborn makes you."
"So, you want to be a showrunner, not a producer?"
Somehow, she hadn't put it together in those exact terms yet, but as soon as he says it, it makes total sense. "I think I maybe do? If I can find something I like. I'm not just going to abandon you on a whim, but--"
"It's not like you're really going to abandon me no matter what," he says. "We'll just have two TV shows to obsess over instead of one."
She grins, tugging him down to kiss him. The tension really has drained out of him, like restarting the conversation really worked. Bellamy can be a little rash sometimes, impulsive and defensive, but he's good at sorting himself out. And he's good at sorting her out, too.
They're a good team, but they're an even better couple. No matter what happens, if she gets a new job or not, they're going to be fine.
"You don't have to obsess over my show," she teases.
"I really do. Any idea what you want to do yet?"
"Not yet."
"Cool." He gives her hand a squeeze before he unlocks the car. "We can figure it out."
*
"So, how's the show brainstorming going?"
It's been a week since they talked about Clarke's wanting a new project, but she didn't for a second think he'd forgotten. And she hasn't either, obviously. But these things can take time.
"Nothing yet, but I'm not worried. I'm contracted for another season with you anyway."
"Yeah, but it's not like we don't have time to think about other stuff."
"What do you mean we? You're going to be a mess this season. Acting and showrunning again--"
"I've done that every year. And this is still less acting than the first season."
"And you're kind of a mess every year."
"I'm going to help you with this."
She smiles. "I know. But there's no reason we have to be in a hurry."
"You must have something."
"I'm thinking I want to do an adaptation too," she admits.
He nods. "Yeah, I like adapting. Book? Movie? Old TV show?"
"You think I could queer one of my childhood favorites?"
"I think you have a better chance of talking someone into that than anyone else I know. Which childhood favorite?"
"Still working on it."
"What are your childhood favorites?"
There's an odd note in his voice, but he's cooking so she can't see his face to figure it out. "The usual stuff. Babysitter's Club, Sweet Valley High. And then I got more into fantasy stuff when I got older. Tamora Pierce, Mercedes Lackey, Philip Pullman--" She smirks. "Harry Potter."
That makes him laugh. "You know, I didn't actually read the books until after I got cast in the show."
"Really?"
"I tried to get O interested but they were too mainstream, so I decided not to read them either. But I mainlined the whole series before my callback."
"And then James was barely in the books."
"I still wanted to have the background." He taps his jaw. "You could try to get the rights to a new Harry Potter series. They might give them to you after Marauders."
"I don't know if I'd want to. Maybe something original set in the world, but I doubt I could get those rights." She sighs, goes over to lean against his back as he cooks. "You made coming up with a good story idea seem easy."
"My bad. You want to do a Thick as Thieves spin-off series? I don't know how I'm going to work it into the main story, and you could make them explicitly queer."
"You just want to get rid of Murphy before he becomes a main character. And you've still got two years of Costis before we can even think about Thick as Thieves."
"Just a suggestion. Bryan seems good so far, he'd balance out Murphy. Ideally."
Clarke laughs. "I do love the show. You know that, right?"
"I know. I'm trying not to take it personally."
"It's not personal."
His smile twists up. "That's why I'm trying not to take it personally."
She presses her lips to his shoulder. "I'm not going to leave. I'm still going to be your girlfriend and I'm still going to want to show up on set and talk stuff through with you all the time. I'm probably still going to have to get a producer credit because I won't be able to keep my nose out of it."
"But you want your own thing you like as much as I like my thing. I just--I thought this was our thing."
"It was. But I was setup here." She pauses. "Also, no offense, but my interest in the show starting off was about ninety-percent having a crush on you. And now you're my boyfriend and I don't need an excuse to hang out with you. We live together."
"When you put it like that." He turns so he can hold her and nudge his nose against her temple. "Like I said, I'm trying not to take it personally. I know it's not, and I want you to have an awesome project too. But if you want to be more involved in story on The Wellborn, that's an option. Not to replace something new," he adds, so quick she has to smile. "But to get you used to it."
"I love you," says Clarke. "I'll let you know what I need, okay?"
He smiles. "You better."
*
Clarke became a producer because she found she didn't enjoy being in the spotlight. It was an odd revelation, for someone who had gotten so much attention as a child of famous parents, because she'd always taken fame for granted, just an unavoidable part of life. But it turned out she preferred to be behind the scenes, and producing appeals to her organizational and control-freak tendencies. It was a good fit for her, something that let her stay involved in the industry without feeling like she had to market herself.
It was a good fit, and she's having trouble figuring out how to make anything else a good fit. Even with Bellamy, she was still doing the same things she always had been. Making the leap from acting to producing wasn't hard to her, but going from producing to creating is a lot, and the more she thinks about it, the less sure she is.
"Here's what I was thinking," she finally tells Bellamy, after two months of fretting. "About my show."
"You think you know what you want to do?" The excitement in his tone sounds genuine, which only makes her feel worse. He really does support her. He believes in her like no one else.
"Not entirely. I think I do want--something skewing younger? Kind of like Babysitter's Club, but not ignoring that kids that age are queer. Standard kid show, but with more LGBT characters, and younger ones."
"The adventures of a middle-school GSA?"
"I haven't worked out all the details, but yeah. Something like that." She takes a deep breath. "But I think I might be better--finding new voices and elevating them? I don't know if the story I want on screen exists yet, so instead of me adapting it, I should find someone to write it. I don't think I'm that person."
Bellamy's mouth twists in half a smile. "That's cool, but--do you really think your passion project is telling other people to write your passion project?"
"I was trying to come up with story lines and I suck at it," she admits. "I like the idea, but I'm not the one to do it."
"What about me?"
She frowns. "What about you? You have your show, you don't have time to do another. I'm not--"
"My show's not going to last forever," he says. "And I'm going to need a lot more help soon."
"Soon meaning--"
"Okay, in two years, when we run out of plot-relevant book and I have to figure out how to balance Thick As Thieves with whatever's happening in Attolia. And I know you don't think you need to help with that," he adds, before she can say it. "Maybe you don't. But I think we do better as a team." His mouth curves up in half a smile. "So we do my thing now, and that gives us time to figure out your thing. You can start out producing on the side if you want, trying to get a handle on it, but--"
"But what?" He's so much more worked up than she was expecting, and she's not quite sure why.
"This is selfish," he says, a disclaimer. "But--I don't want to not be involved in something you're working on. I don't want to feel like I don't have time to help you out. I get that you think you can do both, and you probably can, but--"
"But you're busier than I am."
"Yeah. And you can be busier. You're the one who told me your job is whatever you say it is, so all you have to do is change your job." He rubs the back of his neck. "I did say it was selfish, right?"
"It's cute. You'd miss me."
"I would. You know I would, that's not news."
"It's not, no."
"If you need to get out, you should get out," he says, voice pitched low and genuine. "If you need to do something for yourself now, I want you to. But it kind of sounds like--you're still working on it. And maybe what we need to do is work on it together. We're still pretty young here, Clarke. We've got years ahead of us to make all the TV shows we want. And the next one can be yours."
"You say that now, but what if you get inspired?" she teases.
"I can wait. You inspire me."
"Wow. That's one hell of a line, Blake."
"Shut up. It's true, you know that. When you have your project, I'm going to be excited about it just because it's yours, the same way you were about this one. That's how it works, right? We're partners."
"That's how it usually works." She wets her lips. "I feel like I should be doing my own thing. Something to call my own."
"Because you want to, or because you think you should? Because that matters. I know everyone hears a lot about how they should do it on their own. I know you did. And that's cool, but--you don't have to. If you want something all to yourself, that's fine. But I like having things that are ours."
"You're still taking this personally," she says, but it's mostly a stall tactic.
"A little. If you want a career without me, it's cool, I support you, but--"
"But it might be nice to be one of those couples who always works together."
"We could be, right? If you can survive a couple more years of this. And if you feel like it's not yours--" He smiles, helpless. "It was always yours, Clarke. I couldn't have done it without you. We just have to figure out what your job looks like now that the setup's done. And then we have to figure out what we're doing next."
"But you want to do it with me."
"Yeah, I do."
"I might still see if we can start production on a Freeform or Disney show about a middle-school GSA. Until we figure out what else to do."
"Can I help?"
She has to smile. "Obviously."
He leans down to kiss her. "So--that sounds good? Like I said, you don't have to wait, you can--"
"That sounds perfect," she says, and tugs him back down.
*
Beyond the Little Peninsula: What's Next for The Wellborn's Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin?
The overwhelming impression Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin give is that they are busy.
Not that that's anything new. Clarke Griffin, daughter of actress Abigail Griffin and late technology mogul Jake Griffin, has been in the spotlight for almost her entire life, and as a child (she and I are about the same age, I kept up) I was endlessly impressed by how much she got to do. It felt like Clarke Griffin was always at every cool red carpet, doing spots for the Disney Channel, headlining in movies.
Which is probably why the world did a collective double-take when she took the role in Marauders, and then another when she stopped acting entirely.
"I was a nerd!" Griffin protests, laughing, when I ask her about playing Alice Longbottom. "I took that role because I wanted to be in a Harry Potter show, however I could. I didn't have to be the lead."
"Also because you had a crush on me," Blake adds.
Griffin rolls her eyes, but doesn't deny it. As I said, we're about the same age, and both attracted to men (although not exclusively, in her case), and I feel comfortable saying that most girls in our situation had a crush on James Potter in Marauders. The term teen heartthrob was coined for boys like Bellamy Blake playing characters like James Potter.
Despite--or, really, because of--his humbler beginnings, Blake spent his childhood doing just as much as Griffin did. The eldest child of a single mother, he started taking on odd jobs at age seven, mowing lawns and walking dogs in more affluent neighborhoods than his own. Acting was something he picked up the same way he picked up waiting tables--"When I saw a job I thought I could get, I applied for it," he says, and acting was one of the better paying jobs he could get.
James Potter was in theory his big break, but like Griffin, he didn't show much interest in being a star. While he stayed in the business, he took smaller roles.
"At first, I wanted to stay in LA so that I could look out for my sister." (Looking out for his sister is the explanation for most his decisions he made until he turned twenty-five, from what I can tell.) "But I also really like having a home base. And for some people--they want to be movie stars. I didn't want that."
"Which is why you're a showrunner now," Griffin supplies.
"I still act."
"That was my idea."
He flashes her a megawatt grin. "Yeah, you're the expert."
Griffin's expertise as a producer was what led Blake to reach out to her when he started developing The Wellborn, which begins airing its sixth and final season on Tuesday. The series, based on the Queen's Thief novels by Megan Whalen Turner, was a passion project for Blake, a long-time fan of the books, but first-time show runner.
"I called Clarke because I had no idea what I was doing. I knew that I wanted to do a show, but I've never been involved with this side of it before. I usually just showed up and read my lines. Some actors get involved more behind-the-scenes, but I'd never been interested in that before."
"And now that's all you want to do."
"All we want to do," he insists, making her smile.
It sounds like a common refrain in their household. Although they don't talk about their relationship publicly, Blake and Griffin have immediate and obvious long-term-couple vibe, even without the engagement ring eagle-eyed fans first spotted on Griffin at last year's San Diego Comic-Con. They have an ease with each other that's enviable, and not something I'm sure my boyfriend and I could maintain if we lived and worked together.
But it must not be an issue for the two of them; when I ask if this means they're planning to move onto new projects as a unit, the response is simultaneous and emphatic: absolutely.
"I thought about bailing on him back in the third season," says Griffin. "Or, not bailing on him. But I felt as if I'd done all I needed to do, and I should be moving on to new projects that meant more to me. Which he hated."
"I thought this project was important to you!"
"It was a couple different things," Griffin goes on, voice turning introspective. "Part of it was--this was Bellamy's thing, from the start. And I guess there was a part of me that felt like that meant I wasn't as important."
Blake snorts. "Because god forbid you not be the center of attention."
"I'm not as important. I could have left and the show would have been fine. But there's a difference between being less important and being unimportant. I know I've had a huge influence on the show, and I'm incredibly proud of everything we've done. But seeing how happy Bellamy was telling his story, I wanted to feel that way about my own thing."
"Good save."
"Shut up."
"I do get it," Blake says, shifting as he gets serious too. "I like to give her shit, but I understood where she was coming from. But when you find someone you work as well with as I work with Clarke, it's hard to let that go. She says the show could have survived without her, and it could have. But it wouldn't have been as good, and I wouldn't have had as much fun. So I talked her into staying."
"And now we're going to do something I want to do."
"That's the plan, yeah. From here on out, we switch off projects. I did mine, Clarke's up next. And then once she finishes, we go back to me."
Griffin frowns at this. "What if my show just runs for a year? Do we go back to you even though we did your show for six years? That's not fair."
Blake is insistent. "Our show. And if you can't come up with ideas with legs--"
"Union's still going!" Griffin protests, referring to the Freeform show on which she and Blake serve as producers.
"So maybe you used your one good idea. Maybe we both did, and we're screwed from here on out."
"A bunch of pilots that don't get picked up and series that get canceled over after one season."
"I think you get five years to get something picked up, and if nothing is, we go back to me," Blake says, magnanimous, and Griffin grins.
"Deal."
And what are these shows of Griffin's that she'll be trying to sell for the next five years? That's still a work in progress.
"We've been kicking ideas around. For Bellamy, it was like--divine inspiration. He was reading this book again and it just hit him. And that meant I was looking for that too, and getting frustrated when I wasn't finding it. Apparently, inspiration is hard."
"I got really lucky," Blake adds. "Everything just worked out for me. But it might take us longer to get the right thing for Clarke."
"I'm pickier."
"That must be it."
"Inspiration is kind of a luxury in our business," Griffin says, sobering. "It's great if you have a project you're really passionate about, but even if you find one, sometimes it doesn't make it through network execs, rewrites, the whole Hollywood mess. Like Bellamy said, we got lucky. We can afford to wait for something really good to come along."
When Bellamy Blake speaks, it sounds like a prophesy (appropriate, given the role of the gods in The Wellborn).
"It will," he says, and after talking to him and Clarke Griffin?
I believe it. And I can't wait to see what they come up with next.