Malorie(80)

But what happened in the case of Malorie was, one got out.

In chopping Bird Box up, I’d removed a thread of the novel that no longer fit. Or to put it better: The book would’ve remained twice as long upon publication had I not removed a certain idea that, after time, I started to consider as its own novel. But before deciding whether or not to do something about that, Netflix bought the film rights from Universal and, really, any plans I had, the list of what should be written next and what could be a book and what wasn’t, were blown apart, jumbled, and sunk, as if something like a tidal wave had come through the keyhole of my office door. Because, at the conclusion of watching the movie for the first time, I leaned over to my fiancée, Allison, and asked, “What happens to Malorie now?”

Thank you to the producers of the movie: Chris Morgan, Ainsley Davies, Scott Stuber, and Dylan Clark, for getting me to that place. And thank you Michael Clear for bringing the book to the producers to begin with. Thank you to Netflix and the movie’s crew and to the friends I made on set, especially, but not limited to, members of the cast: Happy Anderson, Pruitt Taylor Vince, Julian Edwards, Vivian Lyra Blair, and the amazing David Dastmalchian.

Thank you Susanne Bier and Eric Heisserer.

And thank you (with a bow) to Sandra Bullock, for showing me what Malorie might look like outside my head.

And so…from Malorie to Malorie, fourteen years after first writing her into a rough draft, finding myself infused with the same ardor I held then, renting out the same space I once called home, June’s place, the desk I’d written the rough draft of Bird Box at, the third floor of a gorgeous home in Detroit’s Boston-Edison district, letting myself in every morning, heading upstairs, writing Malorie, and writing about Malorie and Tom and Olympia with the experience of a Prolific who had traveled through dozens of stories (novels, songs, movies), only to bring it all back to her, back to the character who had meant so much to me long before she was introduced to the world.

Malorie.

And in doing so, in understanding that there was ample room to tell more of her story without touching the original book in any significant way, I realized, completely, that any follow-up to Bird Box couldn’t be about another man or woman who had dealt with the creatures in their own way, couldn’t be about the world at large, but had to center on Malorie herself; Bird Box wasn’t an apocalyptic story as much as it was the tale of one woman’s reaction to the world gone dark.

Bird Box, in any form, will always be Malorie’s story.

Del Rey Books gave me the chance to write about her again.

The conversations I had with editor Tricia Narwani were immeasurable; fuel enough to carry me through the “out to sea” weeks that occur during every rewrite, when you’re not convinced you’re gonna reach the other end of things, but you always do.

To all those at Del Rey who worked on Malorie, thank you so:

Tricia Narwani

Scott Shannon

Keith Clayton

Alex Larned

Julie Leung

Ashleigh Heaton

David Moench

Mary Moates

David Stevenson

Aaron Blank

Nancy Delia

Erich Schoeneweiss

Edwin Vazquez

Rebecca Maines



There were other factors, other moments along the way, outside the realm of notes: For this I thank Allison Laakko and Kristin Nelson. Allison is the one who brought up how, due to the tracks, a train might be the safest mode of travel in a world gone dark. We talked about how one might work, so long as the tracks were clear and nobody nefarious was on board….

And Kristin gave me key direction when she reminded me that, despite having the spirit of a Prolific, and therefore the natural inclination to never return to the scene of the magic, it was not only okay for Malorie to resemble Bird Box in spirit but that maybe it should.

To Allison, to Kristin, to all, thank you.

To Dave Simmer, always, thank you.

And so you see, the power of a rough draft is not only in having outlined what you wish to do, it’s not only about the potential therein: The first draft can be magic, no matter how “right” or “wrong” it felt while writing it, if you choose to look at it this way, a snapshot of who you were when you wrote it, whether you were inspired or not, and how you can later look at that photo and say: Ah, yes, that was me just prior to meeting all these people to thank, all these incredible people, both real and imagined.

JOSH MALERMAN

MICHIGAN, 2020