Writers 
Chapter One
The first time I realized my life was changing, I was late for an interview and arguing with my mother over a pair of shoes. This probably sounds less glamorous than people expect from an actress, but most of my life had never looked particularly glamorous. The difference was that, these days, people sometimes noticed when I arrived somewhere. “Dara, are you listening to me?” Mum asked through the phone. I looked down at the black heels lying beside me on the passenger seat. “I'm listening.” “Then why are you still wearing those slippers?” I glanced at my feet. “Because I'm in a car.” “And when you get there?”
“I'll change.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“Yesterday I wasn't going to an interview.” There was a pause. “Exactly. Which is why you should take yourself seriously.” I smiled despite myself.
“Good morning to you too, Mum.” She started talking again before I could say goodbye, so I quietly lowered the phone and let her voice become background noise. My manager, Miriam, was driving, and judging from the way she kept checking the time on the dashboard, she was beginning to regret agreeing to pick me up. “How long is your mother going to talk?” she asked. “Until I apologize for something.”
“What did you do?”
“Probably nothing.”
“Dara.”
“Okay. I may have forgotten to call her for three days.” Miriam shook her head. “Three days?” “I was busy.”
“You posted four pictures yesterday.” “Posting a picture takes seven seconds.” “Calling your mother takes less.” I turned toward the window so she wouldn't see me laughing. Lagos was already crowded, noisy and impatient. Cars squeezed through spaces that didn't look large enough for cars, roadside sellers moved between traffic, and people were rushing in every direction as though the entire city had agreed to be late together. I had always liked watching Lagos from a moving car. There was something comforting about seeing everyone else trying to get somewhere too. Six months ago, I would have been excited just to receive an invitation to a television studio. Now I was sitting in the back seat with an interview scheduled after a film I had acted in started getting attention. It still felt strange. Sometimes I caught myself waiting for somebody to realize there had been a mistake. My phone vibrated. I glanced at the screen. Another message from my mother. I ignored it. Then another notification appeared beneath it. An email. I opened it without thinking. CASTING OPPORTUNITY — LEAD ROLE. I read the first paragraph. Then the second. My stomach tightened. “Miriam.” She looked at me through the mirror. “Hmm?” “Have you heard of a production called The Other Side of Sunday?” Her eyes returned to the road. “Yes. Why?” I held out my phone. She read the email at the next traffic light. Her expression changed so quickly that I knew this wasn't a normal audition. “Dara,” she said quietly. “What?” “This isn't an audition.” “It says casting.” “Read the last paragraph.” I looked again. We would like to invite Ms. Dara Adebayo for a final meeting regarding the lead role. For a few seconds, I forgot about my mother, the interview, the missing earring on my bedside table and the fact that I was still wearing slippers. I looked at Miriam. “Are you serious?” She smiled. “Very.” And just like that, the morning I had expected to be ordinary became the beginning of something I wasn't prepared for.
