I had an argument with our editor today.
Kids TV is undergoing major production changes. We have a new photography studio, complete with a chroma wall. Since our producer would like to see what the show would look like in chroma technology, we went for it. But since transiting from outdoor shoot to chroma shoot could be a bit drastic for the viewers, I decided to add a little twist on the opening.
It would show the hosts playing with the chroma background. They flew, ran endlessly, fell from the sky, hung upside-down. It was a fun shoot that could result a very good sequence.
But when the editor learned about the complex sequence for our episode aweek from now, he was…let’s just say…shocked.
“Why do you have to tell this now? Don’t you know how long it would take to render a chroma background? You should have told me beforehand so I would have gotten prepared.”
I was tired of his “making a mountain out of a molehill” arguments that I just diplomatically bursted out.
“Okay, let’s just delete that sequence altogether.”
I tried to cool my head in the production area of the office, while writing down the closing billboard of the upcoming episode this Saturday and watching a Korean drama series.
Our production assistant walked to me and explained the editor’s side.
“All he wanted was to get prepared.”
“I wanted to make the show better,” I answered back.
“Well, he does, too. But he needed to be informed next time. You know how grueling the editing would be with your sequence.”
I stopped arguing. “All right.”
SCORE: EDITOR–1, WRITER–0