Here’s a Tiny Definition of Hell

Entering shot timecode data into a spreadsheet. Handwritten, sometimes legible data. About 30 pages’ worth. At this point, my job is similar to peeling potatoes.

Shoulda got a PA for this one. Oh well.

Something weird though. Going over all these shot listings really takes me back to the world we lived in for four weeks. That set encompassed us completely, and I’m a little sad to think I’ll never set foot on it again. The smell of the fog machine, the routine of “Cut! Timecode please? Reset,” that looped around every few moments, the sideways glances when somebody saw something funny off camera … it all comes back to me.

Entering in reams of timecode data is necessary and tedious, but every line brings me one step closer to being able to send all my footage off to my editor. Reliving our shooting days line by line offers me a moment to reflect on it all.

I miss it.

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