ADV140_ letter to a CD
I went through a hundred different ideas when trying to write this book. I sat in a hundred different places and listened to hours upon hours of music. I'd gotten quite desperate, and as such ended up in forgotten places, looking for inspiration in the smallest things. It is in one such moment, as I sat on the roof of a multi-storey car park, that our story starts. So come closer and listen well, because this is the true story of how I came to write this book.
For your own sake, I'll skip the boring stuff about my life before this all began. All you need to know is that I'd had a relatively normal childhood, that I'd just graduated from a creative writing course at university, and that it was the middle of summer.
So there I was, sat on the outskirts of London, chewing on my worn-out pencil, when a girl appeared. There was something in the way she looked at her surroundings that struck me, making me sit straighter. She was wearing a dark hoodie, the hood obscuring her face from the light, which was odd for a hot summer day. Curiously, I watched as she walked out of the elevator, her hands clutching the duffel she held at her chest. She strode through the car park in a hurry, checking her surroundings anxiously.
Unaware of my presence, she walked up to a black saloon car. Slowly, the driver's window rolled down. The girl stood in the way, hiding the inside of the car from my sight, and after a few minutes of what I was guessing was a conversation, a finger pointed past her and straight at me. With a shiver, I watched as she slowly turned around, her gaze locking on to me.
I watched nervously as she set off again, striding towards me, her face clearer now than before. She was in her mid-twenties, her long hair stuffed down her jumper, several brown strands sticking to her sweaty face. She looked exhausted. She stopped only a few feet away from my crossed legs, her eyes looking down at my blank journal. Looking up again, she spoke only one word: "Name?"
"Natacha." I answered without thinking.
This situation was all too bizarre and she looked too desperate to not answer her truthfully. A sudden look of relief came over her face, and she crouched down in front of me.
"This is the package. The recipients are on the note inside."
Without another word, she walked back to the black car, got inside and to the scorch of tyre squeal she was gone. This is the moment when any sane person would have gone straight to the police. But not me, apparently. Instead, I reached out and unzipped the duffle bag, my hands trembling. What I saw within was nothing I could have expected. Near the zip, stuck to the black material with tape was a little yellow post-it. On it, someone with sleek handwriting had written three names:
Nick Gill - Rosie Arnold - David Kolbusz
_________________________
Note: The idea is to have only 3 parts of the book actually exist, and each CD will get only one of the pages with writing on it, the others being blank. Together, they form the 3 letters/parts of the book. And in each book I'll slip a crumpled post-it with three names on it: "David Kolbusz; Nick Gill and Rosie Arnold" who are the ones who will receive the books. They are all creative directors/executives at BBH London. As I send them the books, I'll leave my portfolio wherever I can at the agency offices in a black duffle bag.