Names are for Friends

Your fingers were racing across the keyboard. You’re scrambling to keep up with the sudden surge of ideas that crashed upon the shores of your mind. There were typos, highlighted by the unseemly squiggly red lines. But you tell yourself to be patient. The muses are singing. No interruption can be excused because if you don’t record every single word, you might lose track of this heavenly blessing for good.

You can’t have that. After all, you’ve been scraping ideas for hours. And the deadline is looming towards you like a hawk closing in on its prey. And you know better than anyone that you’re no one’s prey. No. You’re a skilled player. You can read between the lines. And even the lines between the lines. It’s what you’re known for. It’s what landed you on this gig to begin with. These people trust you. And your abilities. Yes. You’re more than just “capable” in your craft. You are a master. And this is your proof.

You’re about to remind the world just who you are.

The rush made you feel  ecstatic. The adrenaline nearly blinded you,  tempting you to send the draft as it is to your script editor but you had to stop yourself. Even though the production’s script editor is a friend of yours (heck, most of the production crew members are), you can’t just submit an unedited draft. That would be unprofessional. Artless. And definitely unacceptable.

You steered away from the email that you intended to shoot. The one that will have the script attached to it. Not yet. Sure it’s only a 30-minute film. But 30 minutes have the power to revolutionise or otherwise. Imagine yourself at the film festival. Imagine how proud you are of your script. Think of how this tedious effort of checking the script would feel like an essential practice to ensure quality and that you “pored over” it to strive for perfection.

Think of that glorious moment when it’s showcased to hundreds of thousands of viewers. Think of how this would look in your portfolio. Think of the applause.

So you went from the top. Checking meticulously for grammatical errors. The story is simple enough that a single once-over would be sufficient. Straightforward plots need no additional embellishments to spruce it up. It’s all in the execution.

And pray that the script would not get lost in translation. Not that the director would. You trust him. That’s why you’re on his team.

Your intended checking time extended from an hour to nearly three. You managed to add a brief profile for each character. It would surely help the others visualise your ideas and lessen the likeliness to diverge too far from your own personal version of the movie in your mind.

You smiled. Yes, this is a script that you can be proud of. You saved the document in a read-only file. This way, any changes would have to go through you since you are the only one who can make edits. Even when such changes come from the script editor.

You composed the email and attached the document. You signed off and hit send.

Time to contain your excitement and wait for a response.

A notification appeared on her phone. A new email. But it took her about an hour to realise that it was there. This was not uncommon when she’s absorbed in another editing task. She rushed from the couch to the computer and loaded it. There it was. The first draft of the script.

“Read-only?” she spat. “How the heck am I supposed to edit this?”

She sighed but resigned to printing the script out. Thankfully, it wasn’t a full-length film or else she would demand you to pay for fresh sheafs of paper and a supply of ink cartridges.

Out of habit, she bound one side of the still-warm printed sheets together. Three staples. One up top. One in the middle. And one at the bottom. Enough to withstand any punishment that she could administer on a stack of paper.

Walking away from the computer, untainted script in hand, the editor went back to the living room and plopped on the couch. She armed herself with a red marker that she had on the coffee table and began to work.

It didn’t take long for her to read the script for the first time. There were a couple of grammatical errors but nothing too embarrassing to point out. In fact, it was pretty impressive that you managed to churn something like this out within the amount of time allocated for the scriptwriter. Plus, the overall word choice read well. She let out a breath through her nose. As much as she didn’t like your condescending attitude at times, she had to admit that at times, the confidence you exude was warranted. Your scripts always seem to read well. A pang of jealousy hit her in the gut but she had to let it go. After all, they had a deadline to catch.

With her phone, the editor took pictures of the marked sections that she wanted changed. Serves you right for sending a read-only file. The thought of you squinting at images of the script would teach you to cut her some slack, since it’ll make things easier for everyone if you had just sent her a file that she could edit on the computer. 

Once she attached all of the pictures she took, she composed a short reply to the writer.

“Good script. Some minor changes. Please send the edited version to the director.” She deliberately kept any congratulatory sentiments to a minimum while maintaining a relatively positive note so that she didn’t end up making you feel defensive.

She hit send and moved on.

The director received your email and text. Such actions indicated a level of respect you had for the director. Even though you and him were practically the same age. He was just one of those people you get pulled towards just by sheer charisma. 

He already had a tab open for his email inbox so he clicked off the online streaming site he was on and jumped straight to the script. The file name contained the word “EDIT” and he safely assumed that the editor had already given the green light to the writer. He first scanned through the story and was pleasantly surprised that you have incorporated all of the elements that the team had agreed on adding. The dialogue was fantastic and even the descriptions were illustrative (and succinct). The storyboard artist should have no problem rendering this script.

The only problem was the main character. Although he had shot several short films before, this script was on a completely different spectrum from his previous work. He thought for a moment, scanning his memory for  any of the cast members who could pull off something like this. He produced his phone from a bag and scrolled through his contacts. One name stood out from the rest. He could picture it well in his mind. The perfect player for his latest project. And perhaps for more things to come.

There’s no use in wondering so he decided to take the plunge. His palms were clammy and his heart was pounding while he listened to the call tone.  It didn’t take long before the call was picked up.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s up? You busy?”

“It’s a bit dark, but I think you can pull it off,” I heard him say. We just read through the script we were going to work with for our entry. He was sweet about it too, explaining about the characters and themes and stuff. “So, can you do it?”

I’ve already been a part of the cast since we signed up for this project. But I didn’t know that he was considering me as a main character.

Not that it would change anything. But I was flattered that he thought of me.

“Let me think for a bit,” I said. I didn’t know why I said that. After all, I already knew that I was going to say yes. I have to admit, this isn’t something that I’m used to. But I’m intrigued. There’s something that was pulling me in. There’s an excitement in it that beckons me to venture into this new character. I mean, I’ve been playing nice side characters all the time. So it’ll be a challenging and rewarding experience to play as someone new.

And I couldn’t wait. Even though I told him that I was going to think about it. So I agreed almost immediately.

“Cool! Thanks a lot,” he said. “Hey, we’ve been calling each other nicknames since the day we’ve met. And we’ve known each other for some time now. What’s your name?”

My cheeks flushed and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. I let his question linger for a bit, giving me time to calm my nerves so I could utter what was going to be my iconic line from this film: “Names are for friends.” There was a pause, perhaps because I had slipped into character for a brief moment. A moment later, I heard him let out a laugh. “See ya at the table reading.”