The Disillusioned EP on Toxic Studio Relationship – The Hollywood Reporter

This is part of a series of frank accounts of the strike from Hollywood writers at different levels in their careers. The diarists have been granted anonymity to encourage candor.

My week began on Sunday night with an email from my strike captain. The next day’s early morning picket was getting pulled up even earlier. Word from the organizers was that productions were changing call times to avoid us. So, we changed ours. 

Which meant my Monday kicked off at 3:45 a.m. with a small group of Guildies walking back and forth in a somnambulist state in front of Raleigh Studios. We were not naïve about the fact that we were trying to shut a production down for the day, and what that meant for the folks working on the show. A couple of crewmembers crossed our line to get to their jobs. Because they had to. Telling us they wished they could join us, asking if we wanted anything from crafty. We would often end these exchanges in an apology loop — “I’m so sorry.” “No, I’M so sorry.”

My agent called at the end of the day. I asked him if he had any intel on the negotiations. “Nope,” was the answer. He said he’d mostly been busy lending emotional support to those clients still in production or going into production. My initial thought was “read the room.” But, I get it. We all need to make a living. That is the point. 

That set the tone for my week. Baader-Meinhof style, I kept running into non-writing folks who were impacted by the strike. My doctor’s son is an editor, who is just starting out, and worried his show might get shut down. A DGA friend with a big gig and two kids in college was also worried his show might get shut down. A woman who just uprooted from the East Coast for her partner’s job, only to have his show shut down. And not one time did I get the feeling they blamed the “greedy writers” for this. Instead, the feeling was one of mutual understanding that we are trying to make this industry better, for everyone. 

The next day was Netflix. I had been hearing Netflix was where the energy was at. And it did not disappoint. The demographics represented were meta-cringe TikTokers and aging Instagrammers — everyone got a picture with Imagine Dragons, while Noah Wyle picketed in peace. I assumed, like myself, most people struggle to ask for a raise. But this crowd not only leans into it, they are living for it.

The next day was tough, it was a broiling afternoon at Paramount. The captain in charge wasn’t keen on gate wanders, so you really had to go where you were assigned and stick it out. Luckily, an angel with homemade chocolate chip cookies appeared half-way through the shift so we were able to rally and finish with our spirits still high. I met some new folks who also work on streaming shows — everyone is trying to guess what’s going to happen. No one seems to think it will end soon. Later I got my hair cut and my hairdresser, who has a lot of clients in the industry, told me she heard four months, minimum. My neighbor, an architect, who also has a lot of clients in the industry, was concerned with how I was holding up. I shrugged and told him this was pretty much inevitable. The writers have always had to strike to make gains.  He said, “That’s a toxic relationship.”

I agreed, but we are used to problem-solving, it’s our favorite thing next to fair pay, and lunch. So I feel confident, even in the face of Chat GPT-4. Because the AI of it all is also inevitable. And it affects every industry. If you are worried for your job as a writer, think about the camera operators, or editors. And what about network execs…how many really are necessary to get the job done? Maybe instead of hearing, “We don’t have notes, just thoughts.” It would be: “We don’t have thoughts, just notes.” Which might be kind of refreshing. The point is, everyone should have an interest in regulating artificial intelligence. What I take solace in as a creative is that AI at its best, is predictable. That’s what it’s engineered to be. And storytelling at its best is unpredictable. It’s surprising. It’s fresh. It’s something you didn’t see coming. No one wants surprises from AI.

Toward the end of the week, I’ll be honest, showing up to do the damn thing started sounding less fun. But then I got intel that Flava Flav was going to be at Warner Bros. That was the exact right amount of Big Clock Energy I needed to fight the power another day. And a reminder that, like any production, it takes a whole crew to get the job done.

Read previous entries by ‘The Disillusioned EP’ and others here.

This is part of a series of frank accounts of the strike from Hollywood writers at different levels in their careers. The diarists have been granted anonymity to encourage candor.

My week began on Sunday night with an email from my strike captain. The next day’s early morning picket was getting pulled up even earlier. Word from the organizers was that productions were changing call times to avoid us. So, we changed ours. 

Which meant my Monday kicked off at 3:45 a.m. with a small group of Guildies walking back and forth in a somnambulist state in front of Raleigh Studios. We were not naïve about the fact that we were trying to shut a production down for the day, and what that meant for the folks working on the show. A couple of crewmembers crossed our line to get to their jobs. Because they had to. Telling us they wished they could join us, asking if we wanted anything from crafty. We would often end these exchanges in an apology loop — “I’m so sorry.” “No, I’M so sorry.”

My agent called at the end of the day. I asked him if he had any intel on the negotiations. “Nope,” was the answer. He said he’d mostly been busy lending emotional support to those clients still in production or going into production. My initial thought was “read the room.” But, I get it. We all need to make a living. That is the point. 

That set the tone for my week. Baader-Meinhof style, I kept running into non-writing folks who were impacted by the strike. My doctor’s son is an editor, who is just starting out, and worried his show might get shut down. A DGA friend with a big gig and two kids in college was also worried his show might get shut down. A woman who just uprooted from the East Coast for her partner’s job, only to have his show shut down. And not one time did I get the feeling they blamed the “greedy writers” for this. Instead, the feeling was one of mutual understanding that we are trying to make this industry better, for everyone. 

The next day was Netflix. I had been hearing Netflix was where the energy was at. And it did not disappoint. The demographics represented were meta-cringe TikTokers and aging Instagrammers — everyone got a picture with Imagine Dragons, while Noah Wyle picketed in peace. I assumed, like myself, most people struggle to ask for a raise. But this crowd not only leans into it, they are living for it.

The next day was tough, it was a broiling afternoon at Paramount. The captain in charge wasn’t keen on gate wanders, so you really had to go where you were assigned and stick it out. Luckily, an angel with homemade chocolate chip cookies appeared half-way through the shift so we were able to rally and finish with our spirits still high. I met some new folks who also work on streaming shows — everyone is trying to guess what’s going to happen. No one seems to think it will end soon. Later I got my hair cut and my hairdresser, who has a lot of clients in the industry, told me she heard four months, minimum. My neighbor, an architect, who also has a lot of clients in the industry, was concerned with how I was holding up. I shrugged and told him this was pretty much inevitable. The writers have always had to strike to make gains.  He said, “That’s a toxic relationship.”

I agreed, but we are used to problem-solving, it’s our favorite thing next to fair pay, and lunch. So I feel confident, even in the face of Chat GPT-4. Because the AI of it all is also inevitable. And it affects every industry. If you are worried for your job as a writer, think about the camera operators, or editors. And what about network execs…how many really are necessary to get the job done? Maybe instead of hearing, “We don’t have notes, just thoughts.” It would be: “We don’t have thoughts, just notes.” Which might be kind of refreshing. The point is, everyone should have an interest in regulating artificial intelligence. What I take solace in as a creative is that AI at its best, is predictable. That’s what it’s engineered to be. And storytelling at its best is unpredictable. It’s surprising. It’s fresh. It’s something you didn’t see coming. No one wants surprises from AI.

Toward the end of the week, I’ll be honest, showing up to do the damn thing started sounding less fun. But then I got intel that Flava Flav was going to be at Warner Bros. That was the exact right amount of Big Clock Energy I needed to fight the power another day. And a reminder that, like any production, it takes a whole crew to get the job done.

Read previous entries by ‘The Disillusioned EP’ and others here.