The September Letter

Hi. It's been a minute. 

WE MADE A MOVIE!!!

The last few months have been wild. Part of me still can't believe that it really happened. Now that post-production of Into The Deep Blue is over, I feel a bit like a pancake that's just been flipped. This whole new side of life is face up (and looking delicious), while the future is still simmering in the pan, feeling undercooked.

Deep breath.

I do that a lot when I think about filming. 

Sitting on the sofa, on my bed, in my car, staring dazed into the distance, and that deep breath just follows. 

Whenever I'm still, the memories hit like a freight train, then someone inevitably honks from the car behind, and 'poof,' they disappear. 

As long as I keep moving, I think I can outrun them. But the second I stop…

they slam right into me.

Deep breath.

I still don't think I'm ready to write about my feelings on filming. They're tightly wound and tangled like a ball of yarn in my heart that has me a little afraid to pull at the string. We all have tangled things - holiday lights, yarn, whatever's hiding in the linen closet, where all you can do is just stare, close the door and say 'I'll deal with you later.'

That's how I feel about filming.

I remember the night of the cast dinner. I had a headache and didn't want to go. Like Fiona, I was in full bail mode. I texted my friend Daniel.

“I don't want to go. I'm tired. They can eat without me!” 

He replied: “No, you're going. Take an Advil, take a Tylenol and get your butt out there. It's YOUR movie!”

We all need a friend who will harass us out of the house sometimes. Though if you asked if I was glad I went... ehhh, maybe. I've never been great with small talk or 'dinners.'Maybe because so much of it feels like the kind of pretend that you watch in a play and are now oddly a part of.

What's my line again?

My spur-of-the-moment girls' night with Sara was by far my favourite. We raced downstairs, sat in a dark booth in the back of the hotel restaurant, huddled over a plate of fries, and downed countless Cokes. We laughed until we cried.

This photo is from the morning of Day 1. I met Michael, another producer, in the parking garage at 6:00 am. He apologized for his messy car (it wasn't messy at all), and we emerged from the subterranean lot to this gorgeous clear blue dawn.

I think about that morning often. The vibe-y music that Michael had on in the car. The debriefing we did, from issues of weeks past to the ones that still lay ahead. It was so surreal. My heart raced the whole way there. Pulling up to set felt instantly fulfilling -- just to be one small cog in the incredible machine that was this movie. 

I cried a lot. 

I cried listening to Damian and Sara at the first table read. Cried the first time I saw the snack table in the production office. (It was the sign: For ITDB Staff Only!) Cried the first time I walked onto set, the first time I opened a trailer door, and after so many lovely conversations with our crew.

I think I hid it well. I would steal away, squeeze my eyes shut, quickly wipe the tears, and mutter stop stop stop stop stop.

Deep breath.

One day when we were filming inserts, Boris (our DP) and I were alone for a minute.

“So?” he said, adjusting the camera. “Are you writing?”

I looked up at him, a deer in the headlights. “Not really.”

He nodded, met my eyes, and I already knew what was coming. 

“Now… is the time.” 

His gaze was soft, but serious, and I still feel it to this day.

Then people spilled into the room, and the moment was gone.

I felt terrified, then motivated.

By the time I walked through the parking lot to my car, I was filled with existential dread.

The time for what?!

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