#linear editing

[daveinediting]

Continuing yesterday's observations about creative process, I'm trying out some other creative processes in a different arena. Yesterday was a non-exhaustive go at songwriting. The day before was a similar go at playwriting. And today it's...

Video editing.

Okay.

How we create what we create has enormous power over the shape of what we create. That is, different creative processes produce different creative outcomes. So if you want to create something you never created before, do what you do differently.

Use a different process.

For example, once upon a time technology only allowed editors to edit in sequence. You started from the start, worked your way through to the end.

Done.

Later, technology did a massive reset and now we could start anywhere and end anywhere. So, of course, when this happened I started at the start and worked my way through to the end.

Done.

If and when I wanted to skip over a section of a show, that was doable but I had to commit to a length for that section I was skipping. Typically, I'd skip the beginnings of shows as they tended to be best of sequences and I'd have a better idea of a show's best shots after I finished the show. I'd music and narration to determine the length of that section and start cutting for real afterward.

Later it hit me I really could start anywhere so I started with a section of show that caught my attention, that seemed like a fun sequence to build. Then I'd move to another part of the show that would be fun to build and so on and so on until I finally filled everything in.

Now, for any sequence in question, there were any number of ways to go about it. I could lay in narration and soundbites, then lay in the video, and then add the music.

Or.

I could lay in the music and narration and then add the video.

Or.

I could do a kind of combination where I started with music then added a line of narration, then added video and sync sound and, depending on how what I'd just done hit me, maybe I'd continue with the music. Maybe I'd continue with the video. Maybe I'd continue with the narration. I'd leap frog around like that until I had a finished sequence.

Later, I threw myself into watching every piece of footage, tagging what I loved most, what I thought was strongest. The effort allowed me to visualize the show. To think of it, imagine it, before conjuring it into the real world.

Later still, I wouldn't even be in the edit suit. I'd be entirely someplace else. Outside even. I'd just read the script over and over and over and over. I'd imagine the kind of show that went with that script. I'd imagine the video and music. I'd imagine the sections where there was no music at all... just the sound of being there.

And so on.

All that imagining gave me an interesting sense of right and wrong once I started putting a show together.

In the end, when it comes to editing, especially editing against the clock, I've done it every which way. From a completely blank screen with no plan to an effort that's thoroughly plotted out in advance. For every element of a show, I prioritized each one at different times. I allowed each one to take the lead, in that way directing how the others should be involved. I made music my priority. I made the sound of being there my priority. I made the narration my priority.

Each of these approaches (and others) created different shows. They created different sections of shows. They changed things up. I don't know better or worse... but I do know absolutely different. And yes. Some were fast and easier to accomplish than others which was a factor. When I didn't have time, I'd prioritize narration. When I did have time, I'd allow for personal discovery.

So.

During the course of my editing career I absolutely chased different outcomes.

By using different creative processes.

😊

[teaboot]

what annoys me about explaining evolution to people who don’t think it’s real is that everyone’s idea of how it works seems to be from this

Whereas the reality is far more like

[katabay]

PAGLUIB

way back in like. march?? I took a stab at writing some kind of kabitserye type of story but it was a mess: it kept veering off into murder mystery drama territory because I was reading a lot of murder mystery novels around then and it Wasn't Good because I hadn't tried writing mysteries, let alone murder mysteries, before lmao

I did write a handful of short mystery stories since then, so next year I might take a stab at this idea again now that I'm no longer jumping head first into a genre pool I don't know how to swim in :)

[tethered-heartstrings]

[bunnie-tells-stories]

Me? Writing my story out of order? Why I would never!

*writes a chapter in the middle of the book instead of in order. And writes that chapter backwards*

[nabaath-areng]

" Did you even listen to me, or is your skull too thick to take in anything I ever tell you? " " I— " " I told you to be careful. Simple instructions really, and yet... "

Magnai/Ieeha AU, Endwalker era when neither fully understand what's going on between them and the unavoidable proximity seems to make things more confusing rather than clear as in even worse than the last time they were stuck together

[theglassespredicament]

i could hear the thunder rolling miles away - 40 days in kansas, ezra furman (on yt here)

[jamiethebeeart]

The Fate of the Dead

(Go to the end for prompt source and ao3 link) Chapter 1:

Sam was able to see the future. 

“A gift” her grandfather whispered on his deathbed.

“A curse,” her mother sneered. 

“Hope,” her grandmother said. 

“Witch” her playmates said. 

One move to a rinky dink town later and even though her parents didn’t say anything, Sam understood – keep quiet, say nothing, and everything would be fine.

-

While the first few years of Sam’s life were a whirlwind of activities, fancy parties, and frilly, fashionable dresses, the next few years were quiet.  Living in a small town where no one knew who the Mansons were, was an adjustment.  Sam, even at her young age, could pick up on the quiet resentment from her parents.  The sidelong looks at the TV over news of celebrity parties, the glance over at Sam when reading the Socialites section of the newspaper, and the way that they frowned when Sam started talking about her visions.  By the time Sam entered 1st grade, she stopped mentioning them to anyone, family or otherwise.  Why would her parents care about the sight of blood on the playground, or the car crash on the interstate?  They couldn’t stop it, and Sam couldn’t either – not without knowing information like “where” or “why” or the most important of all – “when”. 

-

Walking into the 2nd grade hallway, she found her teacher waving students in that they recognized from open night into the classroom.  As Sam approached, the teacher brightened, “Hello Samantha!  Walk right in, there’s a seating chart at the front of the classroom.  Please find your seat and sit down.  Class will start soon.”  Nodding, Sam walked into the classroom and saw a large easel with sticky notes plastered to it.  Each one was arranged into groups like the desks behind her.  She located her seat, turned around, and almost ran into a boy with black hair.

“DANNY!”  A woman slid to a halt, bumping the classroom teacher a little as she caught herself on the door post.  A backpack held up in one hand and breathing hard, like she’d ran to the school.  After a moment, she looked up, “Danny, you forgot your backpack.”

The black haired boy turned around, “Oh!  Thanks Mommy!” he grinned as he ran back to her. 

Sam stopped, shocked – not because of the almost run in, but because that boy looked like a younger version of the one she saw in one of her oldest visions.  The only recurring one she’d ever had.  As the boy shooed his mother off and turned around to head back to the easel, Sam woodenly headed to her seat, refusing to look up from the floor.  Swinging the straps of her bag over the back of her seat, she smoothed her skirt, and sat down.  She blinked a few times, fighting back tears.  Not all of Sam’s visions were unpleasant, but the ones that were, tended to be rather extreme – this particular one included.  She had almost convinced herself it was a recurring nightmare rather than a true vision, but there was no way she could have imagined those screams.  She breathed in and out to calm herself like her mother showed her, fists clenched under her desk, hidden, like her father.  As the thunk of a backpack landed on the desk next to her, she shook her head a little and looked up.  “I’m Sam,” she introduced herself to the boy next to her.  A hand stuck out in his direction.

“Tucker,” the boy grinned, as he shook her hand.

By the end of recess later that day, Danny was sporting a bloody nose, Tucker was on the ground, and Sam stood in front of them, glaring at the blonde kid who started it all.

“Step aside, if you know what’s good for you!” the kid said, trying to stand up tall, chest puffed out.

“You can’t hit a girl!” Danny yelled around the hand clutching his nose.

“Yeah!  That’s, like, super mean!”  Tucker said as he started to stand.

“I might!” was the response.

Sam glared harder, “You can try.”

“Move!” Dash screamed.

“No!” Sam screamed back.

“Over here!  There’s some little kids fighting!”  An older student was yelling across the playground, motioning for a teacher’s assistant on recess duty to come over.

By the end of the day, Dash was suspended and Sam had made two lifelong friends.

-

“But Saaaaaam,” Danny whined, “why do we have to go the long way to the park?”

“Yea, Saaaam whyyy, my feet already hurt from PE today,” Tucker said, a few steps behind the other two.

“Because I said so,” Sam rolled her eyes.  “It’s nice out today - why wouldn’t we take advantage of it?”

Danny slowed down to settle beside Tucker and stage whispered, “I think this is payback for painting the inside of her locker pink.”

“No.”  Tucker solemnly said.  “She’s just trying to kill us.”

Danny nodded, “Aaah, that makes sense.  Do you think she’ll at least pay our funeral expenses?”

Tucker snorted, “She should at least pay for our coffin lining.  I’m thinking light blue.  Sam, what do you think?  Light blue?  Or should you do green for me?”

Sam rolled her eyes and turned around to walk backwards to talk to them, “I think you two are melodramatic and insufferable.”

The boys laughed at her, seeing the uptick of her mouth.  They walked a little faster.  Sam turned back around right before Tucker slung an arm around her shoulders as they fell in step with her. “So, a bottom of the line white?” Tucker asked.

Danny gasped, “And here I thought Sam wasn’t like those, quote, ‘basic bitches’.”  The boys cackled as Sam shrugged Tucker’s arm off with a huff.

“First – I called them shallow.  Second, I would at least spring for a black lining.  If I can’t convince you two to go goth in life, I’ll have to make it happen in death.”  Sam held her head up in mock snootiness before side eyeing Danny and laughing at his grimace.  They made it to the park walking past the people walking dogs and others playing with young kids to the far end.  The trees started to get dense and the park area slowly transitioned into proper woods.  They could hear birds quieting down as they pushed aside branches and went through some bushes.  A slight breeze pushed through their group as they came upon the dry creek.  Stepping on the large stones in the creek bed, they made their way across to a fallen tree on the other side.  Tucker and Danny let out twin groans of relief at being able to plop down.  Sam made a face at their antics and took the seat in between them.

“So,” Sam started.  She refused to look at either one.

The chirping of the birds started up again.  Danny shifted his foot around at the dirt under his shoe, looking up at the sky.  Tucker took off his glasses to clean them off on his shirt.  After putting them back on, Tucker raised an eyebrow, “So?”

Sam laughed sheepishly, “I forgot.”

“What?!” Danny blurted out, taking his eyes off the clouds to look at her.

“Yea! What?! You’re the one who wanted to take us out here today!” Tucker added on.

“We could be at home playing DOOMED, ignoring our homework, instead of out here, tired, overheated, and ignoring our homework,” Danny said.

“That’s it then, I guess I’ll have to take out my homework and have you help me.”  Tucker paused hopefully.  “Unless you suddenly remember?”

Sam furrowed her eyebrows, looking down, “No.  Let’s do our homework.”  She unzipped her spider backpack to pull out her binder.

Danny looked behind Sam’s back at Tucker mouthing, “Are you serious?!?”

Tucker widened his eyes, shrugging and shaking his head towards Sam, “Sorry?!?!”.

Sam sat up with her binder and pencil, cutting their silent back and forth short.  “Alright.  Is it going to be English or History?"  She looked at Tucker, down at his untouched backpack, and then back up.  “Seriously?”  A signature Sam frown was gifted upon him.  “You were the one to suggest this.  Hurry up.  As soon as I’m done, I’m leaving you two behind in the woods.”  At the thought of having to walk back by themselves, Danny and Tucker scrambled to get their backpacks open and homework out.  Sam smiled a little.  As much as she loved these moments, she was already mourning their end.

Prompt: You can see visions of the future, but you learned long ago to keep them to yourself. Now, you have to speak up or risk losing everything you love. Source: https://prowritingaid.com/fiction-writing-prompts

The Fate of the Dead - Chapter 1 - J_Bee - Danny Phantom [Archive of Our Own]

[stuckatmyhouse12]

Who is Iori Fuyusaka?

[nixylubouv]

Love Potion (4)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

So. Still haven't named any of the characters. Open to suggestions!

***********************************************

Five Months Ago

Villain paced across the ornate rug in his office, feeling strangely giddy. Light poured in through the large glass windows and burnished the room in a lovely glow. Truly, a perfect day. A firm knock sounded on the door.

Villain immediately stopped pacing and moved to face the glass panes. He brushed off a nearly invisible piece of lint on his silver epaulets and cleared his throat. “Come in.” 

A soft click sounded as the handle turned and the oak wood was pushed in.

Villain tried to ignore how hard his heart sped up at the sound of Hero’s voice murmuring a quiet thank you to the guard that had opened the door. Instead, he focused on the garden outside. The plumeria flowers of late spring were in full bloom, the color of soft ocher like Hero’s hair. 

“Commander.” Hero was cordial. Strictly business.  

“Hero.” Villain turned back as if noticing him for the first time and gestured to the small seating area beyond his desk. As Hero moved to sit, Villain took the time to study him. It had been almost an entire month since he had last seen Hero. Granted, the times they got to meet after their university days were few and far between and rarely not across the round table of some negotiation.

His hair at gotten longer. It was tied at the nape, a few messy strands escaping to frame Hero’s face. He wore a causal tunic and breeches, his ceremonial sword carelessly tied to a simple leather belt like it was a piece of scrap iron.

Hero was never one for flashy uniforms. His posture was relaxed, but the small tapping of his fingers against the armrest didn’t escape Villain’s notice. So Hero was anxious. Good. 

Villain often had a gnawing voice whispering in the back of his mind that Hero had forgotten him. Nobody forgot Villain. Those in his social circle simpered at the merest morsel of attention from someone of Villain’s pedigree.

Back when Hero’s ire was directed in his direction in competition, he had reveled in the feeling of being alive chasing challenge after challenge. Their glory days were at the forefront of daily gossip constantly. 

Villain hated Hero’s current indifference so much it made his bones ache. It felt like Hero moved on and Villain was still there in that same spot, searching for that rush. Worse still, Villain could admit Hero was brilliant, and it was infuriating. Villain had tutors, training, riches beyond fathomability at his beck since childhood. Yet Hero still managed to keep pace. 

Villain took his seat across Hero, who was making a pointed effort to avoid eye contact. He gazed out at the view Villain had been admiring only moments before. Villain knew Hero was itching to ask why Villain had called him here today. 

It wasn’t like Hero could refuse a summons from the Khalan Commander either way. Hero naturally had better things to do. No doubt he’d rather be off galavanting across the countryside saving every wretch he came across. “Golden Heart” the peasants called him. And secretly, some of the nobles too. A small, hidden part of Villain was disgruntled. Why did everyone else in the world deserve Hero’s kindness, and not him? 

It didn't really matter anymore. Soon, Hero would be at his mercy. And Villain would finally have the upper hand.  

“Before I inform you why I requested your presence today, let us have some tea first,” Villain told Hero amiably, taking ahold of the cup directly in front of him. Villain tamped down the corner of his smirk as Hero’s head whipped towards Villain in a look of uncharacteristically adorable confusion. 

“Tea?” Hero dubiously eyed the cups of enchanted china he had barely given thought to when he had sat down. The liquid inside could stay warm for hours on end, as evidenced from the steam still rising off the surface.

“I never took you as someone who enjoyed tea,” Hero couldn’t resist quipping, “It suits your fine sensibilities.” When it became clear that Villain would provide no further explanation aside from a polite smile, Hero mirrored Villain’s movements and picked up his own cup with a small sigh. 

Villain stared in eager anticipation as Hero brought the inconspicuous love potion to his lips and took the first sip. 

[dead-potato-monster]

look at this. it's perfect. oh and before you click there are fantasy high junior year spoilers.

[sarcasticratsims]

Drew Sam’s apocalypse design, I would have drawn Roy too but the motivation ran out

New seasick episode tomorrow, read this one if you haven't :)

| Beginning : Latest |

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞Seasick Tag List𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 @that1crowdude

@gvaudoiin-tricou

[hsslilly-blog]

Out of Time (2017), dir. by Kimberly Comte. Starring Claire Swanson.

Local sweetheart Laura Pilant (Swanson) had been missing for two weeks when her body was found in a shallow grave in her neighbour's plot. The small town of Pittman, TN goes into collective mourning as semi-retired detective Paul Biegler (Corby) is assigned to the open-shut case. However, just as Biegler starts to question details of the murder, a revelation forces him to reconsider everything: the girl in the grave is not Laura.

i'm developing claire's filmography and i want to share some of her films so i made a letterboxd template. it was really fun! everything on the template is customisable too, which is very practical.

"out of time" was originally titled "planners without time" but i decided to renamed it. released in 2017, claire got the best actress award in cannes for her role as laura. she got cast in this film after ticket to ride. in my head this film follows both protagonists (laura & biegler) as the viewer watches laura in the past plotting her disappearance + the guy in the present trying to find her.

[bezdusniimak]

dyed my hair now eating breakfast then going to work at my computer and all of that before 10:30 am

recovery is amazing

[cowboylikedean]

the link between the outro of guilty as sin, waolom, icfh, tsmwel, and bdilh is just so striking to me every time i hear one of those, but especially guilty as sin.

If long suffering propriety is what they want from me, they don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly. I choose you and me, religiously.

the scandal was contained, the bullet had just grazed. at all costs keep your good name.. you don't get to tell me you feel bad

They shook their heads saying "God help her" when I told them he's my man. But your good lord didn't need to lift a finger. I can fix him, no really I can. Woah maybe I can't.

then say they didn't do it to hurt me BUT WHAT IF THEY DID

you caged me and then you called me crazy

I just want to know if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal.

i forget if this was ever fun. I just learned these people only raise you to cage you. Sarahs and Hannahs in their Sunday best, clutching their pearls sighing "what a mess?" I just learned these people only save you 'cause they hate you.

when he ghosted her, she blamed the fandom. in part because she felt ashamed she alienated us* for the sake of this guy who fucked her over and so focused on the fact she shouldn't have had to and the fact that she did was, itself, a red flag. the disdain of our* self righteousness was blaming us for the fact she had to alienate us and it still wasn't enough to keep him around vs blaming him for that. because blaming him would blame her too.

ending the standard edition with clara bow after the alchemy, too, draws it in. she feels terrible she did that to us and loves us so much... but she's also terrified of how bad that felt.

[honeybeeff]

cobija