
Jane Gibson once felt destined for literary greatness. Nine years into a sprawling second novel and living in a borrowed glass house in the hills, she’s trying to keep her marriage to Lenny intact, shepherd their two children—Ruby, resilient and imaginative, and Finn, a stargazer from a self-declared “Finn planet”—and forge meaning in a city that glitters by day and haunts by night. When a powerful television producer, Hampton Ford, invites Jane to translate her voice to the screen, she glimpses a life beyond stalled drafts and mounting bills. What follows is a suspenseful dance between Hollywood opportunity and artistic integrity: brainstorming sessions that turn into pills and all-nighters, a Labradoodle pilot with teeth, and a show bible that looks suspiciously like her life’s work—without her name on it. As friends return, houses vanish, and a nursing-home apartment becomes sanctuary, Jane faces the oldest American stories: the pull of race and passing, the ache of want, and the precarious balance between creative ambition and love. Colored Television turns the lens on how a family endures—patched by private jokes and backyard jazz, held together by art and appetite—and asks what it means to survive misrecognition and still claim your voice.