I've never been lucky getting my casting choices. The two actors I wanted as the Doctor in Doctor Who turned down the role. I cast my books in my head, because no need to deal with pesky little things such as contract negotiations and the actor not being the right age any longer (or possibly not with us). Casting for movies and television? I'll leave that to the producers because they need to play out their vision.
Six women who wielded power which shaped the entertainment taste of a nation, five of them living long enough to watch the industry change and the roles they held as directors and producers becoming the exclusive domain of men.
In terms of heat, this at the Hallmark movie level. If Hallmark movies had more bodies, plots to overthrow the emperor, and eunuchs. Do not take your eyes off the eunuch.
Mom and I regularly attended the local fan conventions, both Star Trek/SF and nostalgia-focused. A regular feature on Saturday night was the “mystery movie,” revealed only when the credits showed up on the screen. One Saturday, Mom had said she was ready to go home, but agreed to stay until we found out what the film was. Lights went down, the Warner Bros. logo came on, along with Max Steiner’s score and a single word: Casablanca. I told Mom we could go if she wanted. She said, “No, you need to see this.”
There was no rhyme or reason to the family reading patterns. We'd dive into whatever caught our fancy. My habits haven't changed over the years, and since I married a man who has his own love of history, science fiction and comic books, there's no been pressure to do otherwise.
When I was a little girl, most of my friends wanted a pony. I wanted a screening room.