“Your premise is fun and original. It definitely has a commercial edge, which is what studios look for,” he says. “The dialogue is sharp and effective. You have a real ear for natural speech patterns. But your characters don’t come alive.” I tighten my grip on the phone, knowing this is the beginning of the negative part of our conversation. So far it’s all been cheery small talk and positive feedback. “They don’t?” “We need to really care about these people to be invested in their future and their happiness,” he explains, his voice full of authority. “Your story needs to enthuse reality. It needs to breathe the truth. It needs to be the realest real.” “The realest real?” I repeat, wondering what that means. I have no idea. “Yes, the realest real.” He says this sincerely and earnestly with no sense of irony. It’s like he doesn’t realize he’s calling from Hollywood, USA, the international capital of the fakest fake and saying the realest real like it’s an actual thing.
