Over the last few months, I have written several drafts for the short that I would be shooting for my thesis. In the last few drafts, I keep playing with different tones and different inciting incidents. And every draft, I feel like I am close to something extremely promising. But, that something that will make it perfect, is still missing.
It's the third act. In all the drafts, something for the sake of it happens in the third act. But, it does not feel satisfying. It feels forced and arbitrary. Of course it does. Because the third act, echoes life and the people you meet. I always remember when I first met them, not the last. There is no dramatic end to anything or anyone in my life. There is no storming of a door, and its over. At least not for me. One fine day you stop and try to remember, how did that end, when was the last time we exchanged words? Were they exchanged knowing that they would be last? I guess not. Especially now that we have phones and internet, no one thinks they are going away forever. As a result, the fine line of being together and apart is blurred. Not for me. But the goodbyes to people in life are.
It's the third act. In all the drafts, something for the sake of it happens in the third act. But, it does not feel satisfying. It feels forced and arbitrary. Of course it does. Because the third act, echoes life and the people you meet. I always remember when I first met them, not the last. There is no dramatic end to anything or anyone in my life. There is no storming of a door, and its over. At least not for me. One fine day you stop and try to remember, how did that end, when was the last time we exchanged words? Were they exchanged knowing that they would be last? I guess not. Especially now that we have phones and internet, no one thinks they are going away forever. As a result, the fine line of being together and apart is blurred. Not for me. But the goodbyes to people in life are.
