The Journalist and Her Actor

Chapter 4

There is something magical about a studio lot. It's where our favorite things are created, so it's hard not to walk around feeling like you are touching a bit of magic everywhere you go. Your favorite actors, artists, musicians, and directors all work there. A private club where magicians all hang out, creating beautiful things for the rest of the world to enjoy. 

I didn't want to be famous, but I constantly found myself drawn to the glitz of it all. The pretty dresses, the music that could make any scene feel emotional, the stories that could break you or heal you. 

In short, studio lots felt like a wizard's town. A place where magical people made magical things that did magical stuff to all those who consumed them. 

Shoving the pages of my "fake" script— which had really been lyrics to every NSYNC song ever written— into my bag, I walked with purpose past several buildings doing my best not to look lost. The downside of sneaking onto a studio lot was that looking lost was a dead giveaway, shouting that you shouldn't be there. You needed to pretend you knew exactly where you were going, and hope that along the way, you would actually find something useful.

The InternationalSisters Studio Lot looked like an entire city and was made up of large warehouses that lined the sides of the streets. Each one housed sound stages where sets were built up to give off the illusions of cozy living rooms, slick stores, bars, coffee shops, bedrooms and more. The blinding lights that sat above the sets, washed everything in bright light, making each warehouse a furnace of furniture and framework. 

Several streets over, fake shops were set up so the studio could shoot exterior shots of people walking down the streets. Each store front could be changed to create the illusion of a new location. Past that, a small town vibe was permanently set up with white picket fences set up in front of victorian houses and charming box window flowers tucked into small town store fronts. To tie it all together, a gazebo sat in the center of a small park in the center of the fake town. 

Writers worked in the small victorian homes, which once you past the front doors were actual working offices.

Overall, InternationalSister Studio had mastered the illusion of a flourishing town and city, which was run by anything but normal people. At the drop of the hat, people would come skittering out of buildings, shooting equipment in hand, ready to transform a space before diving for cover when the director shouted "action." 

After several blocks of walking from a Bustling New York City landscape, through a small town setting up for a festival shot, I stumbled into a busy section where dozens of identical looking brown haired women stood in front of a closed warehouse door, eyes glued to a script in their hands, faces filled with concentration. 

I was about to continue past when I overhead one of the women whisper to another and I paused. "—I mean who wouldn't want to work with Luke Walker?"

"I heard that they are recasting her role because they broke up," said a second woman. 

A third woman rolled her eyes and turned to glare at the other two. "Oh please. It's because she can't sing. And that's part of the role! Don't fall for the gossip garbage." 

Jackpot, I thought settling in at the edge of the group. I spot a discarded script on the ground and plucked it up hoping it would help me blend in as I listened to their chatter.

"That doesn't mean their breakup wasn't messy. Maybe they were going to hire a singer that she would just lipsync to. They've done it before," the girl who had gotten chastised muttered, tilting her head up in defense. 

"OOOOOR, they could just want to work on different things. Maybe Luke and Lavender are still dating," a soft spoken woman chimed in, her tone hopeful.