Todd Anderson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mumbled_truth) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
poly_chromatic2012-07-22 07:24 pm
mumbled_truth) wrote in poly_chromatic2012-07-22 07:24 pm
Entry tags:
║ seventy-seventh stanza ║ video
[Todd is seen sitting at a desk, scribbling away in a notebook. Every few moments, he pauses, moves his lips as he silently reads over what he's just written, and considers it. Sometimes, he lets it remain as is. More often, he scratches out a bit - or all - of it, and hesitantly rewrites it, pushing forward a line at a time. A narrator's voice comes over the feed, grand and imposing but warm.]
The creative process of one Todd Anderson, a young but promising poet recently turned playwright, is not an easy one. Constantly retooling, rewording, and rethinking his work, Todd is reluctant to call any piece finished.
[Perfectly timed, he rips out a page, crumples it up into a ball, and tosses it into a trashcan he keeps near the desk. The ball is far from alone in that bin.]
But he presses ahead regardless, his slight confidence bolstered by the belief of others, friends and admirers who encourage him not only to find the strength to form his words but also to share them. It can never be said that Todd has not made progress, with a show opening under his belt, and a modest but sincere following.
[The scene switches now, to a grainy night-vision shot. Clearly, some stock footage that's been on hand, somehow.
The trash is there, by the desk, but someone creeps up to it in the night - clearly it's none other than one Neil Perry, for those who would recognize the boy.
Neil reaches into the bin and, one by one, pulls out the crumpled-up papers, smooths them out, and stacks them on the desk. When he's retrieved all of them, he slips away with the stack, to stow them away in some hidden spot.]
A following which, in later years, Todd may very well thank for their drastic measures.
The creative process of one Todd Anderson, a young but promising poet recently turned playwright, is not an easy one. Constantly retooling, rewording, and rethinking his work, Todd is reluctant to call any piece finished.
[Perfectly timed, he rips out a page, crumples it up into a ball, and tosses it into a trashcan he keeps near the desk. The ball is far from alone in that bin.]
But he presses ahead regardless, his slight confidence bolstered by the belief of others, friends and admirers who encourage him not only to find the strength to form his words but also to share them. It can never be said that Todd has not made progress, with a show opening under his belt, and a modest but sincere following.
[The scene switches now, to a grainy night-vision shot. Clearly, some stock footage that's been on hand, somehow.
The trash is there, by the desk, but someone creeps up to it in the night - clearly it's none other than one Neil Perry, for those who would recognize the boy.
Neil reaches into the bin and, one by one, pulls out the crumpled-up papers, smooths them out, and stacks them on the desk. When he's retrieved all of them, he slips away with the stack, to stow them away in some hidden spot.]
A following which, in later years, Todd may very well thank for their drastic measures.
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Well. I think I'll probably cut him some slack.
video;
If this is a tv show, where are the explosions?
[If there's one thing she's learned from her super-quick introduction to television, it's that everything explodes.]
video;
I think I'd prefer explosions to someone narrating me.
video;
So this isn't a tv show?
video;
[Is that right? Oh well.]
It's sort of like a TV show, I guess, but it's-- well, it's on the Network, and then... they want me to talk to anyone who responds to it. Like this.
[How did he let himself get talked into this?]
video;
video;
Um... something about "capturing and examining the creative process"? They, uh... they'd be able to tell you a lot better than I would.
[Yeah he is not a fan of this.]
video;
[No offense to you, Todd.]
video;
It wasn't my idea.
Re: video;
Why don't you just tell them to go away?
[Trying to be helpful]
video;
[Sigh.]
They have a contract.
video;
[She's totally on your side, bro. If she were there in person, she'd probably start hitting people for you. As it is, she just crosses her arms and looks distinctly unimpressed.]
video;
video;
video;
Yeah.
It is.
video;
video;
[Should. Won't, but should.]
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So.
[It's a prompt. You can volunteer something here, or, of course, just bounce it back to him. He'll wait.]
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[It's cautious, but not a denial. After all, the evidence is right there on the Network; he rather doubts Todd didn't notice it.]
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Where are they?
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Somewhere safe. [A pause.] Don't worry about it. No one reads them.
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No one's supposed to have them. They're supposed to be gone. Far away. Forever.
Never seen again?
That... sort of general idea?
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It's close enough, really.
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[He's trying to look angrier, but he might be trying to mask a short, abrupt laugh with the incredulous noise he makes.]
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[A smile teases at his lips, a rare moment of hesitance. Neil and shy are words nearly never found in the same sentence. But it's always a little difficult, putting certain things into words.]
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Why?
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Some of them really are awful, though.
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And he eyes him with what might be described as a fond annoyance.]
This is not fair.
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[he agrees, because in general Neil is truthful.]
But it's true.
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[He's not entirely convinced, obviously, but the reluctant admission of the possibility is still a big deal.]
How long have you been doing that?
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Do you really want to know?
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You are infuriating.
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I'll keep it in mind.
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But you won't do anything about it.
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