poly_chromatic | ║ 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's um... [what did they call it again?] ...a NetCast?

[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?]

Oh. [She screws up her face, still confused.] Why?

[Wrong person to ask here. He sort of laughs, shrugs, and shakes his head, all at once.]

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.]

Sounds boring.

[No offense to you, Todd.]

[He actually agrees - though it doesn't mean he doesn't look mortified and sullen because god he didn't even want to do this and this is exactly what he expected and being right doesn't actually feel so great.]

It wasn't my idea.

[Sorry, she and tact live in different zipcodes. She winces a little, recognizing that she done messed up.]

Why don't you just tell them to go away?

[Trying to be helpful]

They won't.

[Sigh.]

They have a contract.

What's that got to do with you?

[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.]