Chapter 20 #3
Early Saturday morning Shannon pulled into a parking lot of the USC campus.
She’d gone online the previous evening to figure out where she was supposed to go.
She’d never been on campus before and certainly hadn’t been to the film school, so information had been required.
Despite her planning, she sure hadn’t slept well.
Just thinking about how she would be spending her weekend was enough to tie her stomach into knots.
For the forty-seventh time, she told herself she should have simply told Ava thank you but no. She wasn’t interested in cinematography. The film list had been tedious to get through—at least she assumed it would have
been, had she finished. As it was, she’d barely gotten through two of the eight recommended movies, and she’d hated both of
them. All she wanted was to be back in bed with Aaron as they planned their weekend. Worse, she felt an instinctive need to
text her mom for moral support, only she hadn’t told her about the class, so she was going to have to suck it up and get through
this on her own.
Now as she walked from her car, she felt nauseous, light-headed and incredibly out of place, feelings that only increased
when she found the room and walked inside.
There were about two dozen high school students in the large classroom. All of them were talking excitedly to each other,
some showing videos on their phones. Beside each of them was a huge camera bag filled with equipment. Complicated-looking
camera type equipment that she not only didn’t recognize but also couldn’t even name the component parts of.
She slid onto a seat next to a dark-haired teen who looked to be about fifteen at most. The girl smiled at her.
“Aren’t you dying? I’m dying. I was so excited, I couldn’t sleep last night so I rewatched The Ocean Journey twice.
I know everyone says And Then You is his seminal work, but I think The Ocean Journey was when Mateo really found himself as an artist, you know?
The lighting alone makes me cry every time I watch it. I’m Jelli,
by the way. Like a PB&J but with an i.”
“Ah, Shannon. Hi.”
Jelli pulled a laptop from her huge bag and opened it. “I’ve been doing some editing, playing with different angles to get
the scene just like in The Ocean Journey. Not copying but trying to duplicate the feel with my own work. My film teacher at school says we can learn by redoing a
master’s work. Like painters recreating a great painting over and over again.”
She pressed a couple of keys on her laptop, then turned it toward Shannon. The screen filled with a young boy in a sailboat.
Behind him the sky morphed from blue to green to red before quickly turning to night. Birds flew by backward while the boy
and the boat moved forward.
“See what I did there?” she asked eagerly. “It’s the same technique Mateo used in The Ocean Journey.” She wrinkled her nose. “I couldn’t get the scope he could because I don’t have the same equipment, but I think it’s pretty
good.”
Shannon stared at the screen. She had no idea what she’d just seen or what Jelli was so proud of. To her, the sequence hadn’t
made sense at all, but she wasn’t going to say that.
“It’s brilliant,” she said with a smile. “I mean brilliant.”
Jelli flushed with pleasure. “Thanks. It’s part of what I submitted. I hope he likes it.”
“Submitted?” Shannon asked in confusion. “You mean . . .”
“To get into the seminar. The videos we had to send in? I was so scared because I was afraid I wouldn’t make it.”
“Oh, that. Me, too.” Shannon looked around at all the earnest teens who continued to talk animatedly and share their work.
They’d all auditioned to get into the class, she thought, feeling guilt as well as shame. They cared about this, wanted to
know everything Mateo could teach them. They were eager, talented and driven. She had nothing in common with them and absolutely
didn’t belong here.
But before she could run out of the classroom to go hide in her car, a tall, dark-haired man walked into the room. He was lean, intense, and when the kids saw him, the room erupted into applause. Mateo paused and graciously nodded. The teens leaped to their feet, cheering.
He crossed to the front of the room and opened the laptop waiting on the lectern. After he pushed a couple of buttons, an
image filled the huge screen behind him. There was a shot of a giraffe crossing the plains somewhere wild-looking. Maybe the
African savanna, Shannon thought, noting how rapt the other students were. The camera panned to a lion lying in wait.
One of the teens whispered a soft “Oh no.” It was only then Shannon realized there was no sound, just the image. Seconds later,
the image changed. It was the same scene but filmed from up high, as if the camera was in a second-story window. She saw the
same ground, the same trees. Barely on the edge of the screen was a flicker of movement, then the camera turned, and she saw
the lion.
The scene started again. At first there was only the brush, then she saw a large paw as the lion walked into view. He filled
the entire screen, looking powerful and majestic.
“Story,” Mateo said, “is all about point of view. If you don’t know who’s telling the story, how will you know what to film
first? How will you know what to emphasize, how to light the screen, and which is going to be the magical shot that takes
the work from ordinary to extraordinary?”
He turned off the screen. “Now that I have your attention, let’s talk about the class. I’ll be lecturing this morning, showing
you examples of the techniques I want us to focus on. This afternoon we’ll start filming. You’ll have an hour to work on your
projects, then we’ll screen some of the best submissions, viewing them frame by frame to understand what worked and why.”
Jelli leaned over and whispered, “Where’s your camera bag?”
Her what? Shannon swallowed. “I, ah, left it in the car.”
Jelli looked horrified. “What if it gets stolen?”
“I’m sure it’s fine.”
Jelli moved her bag a little closer to her, as if afraid by association.
Mateo spoke for the next two hours. While the other students carefully took notes on their laptops and stared intently at
the film clips, Shannon was left making the odd notation on her phone. While she could see the beauty in the clips, she didn’t
understand why one was better than another. Mateo explained it all, but she didn’t have the same vocabulary as the other students,
who asked questions in a shorthand she couldn’t master. Thankfully a little after ten he dismissed them for a twenty-minute
break. She got up, thinking she should just go to her car and drive away. The class had been a complete mistake. But before
she could escape, Mateo asked to speak with her.
Swallowing hard, she made her way to the front of the room. Several of the students watched, including Jelli, who stared wide-eyed.
“Hello,” he said, watching her approach. “You didn’t submit anything ahead of time. Did you bring work with you for me to
see?”
“I didn’t,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was supposed to.” She couldn’t read his expression, but he didn’t look
happy.
He frowned. “How can you not have work to show me? Aren’t you proud of what you do? Don’t you want to defend your film and
tell me why you know you’re right? Where’s your ego? In this business, you have to be willing to learn as much as you can,
but at the same time believe in your gut that you’re just a little bit better than everyone else.”
As she always felt she was the one who didn’t know where she belonged, the concept of being the best was more than foreign—it
was impossible.
“In my seminars, talent matters,” he continued. “Ava asked me for a favor. I said yes because her foundation supports my partner’s work, and I appreciate that. She’s a smart, strong woman and I knew she wouldn’t have contacted me without a reason.”
She felt smaller with each word and tried not to hunch over.
He looked at her. “Why are you here, Shannon?”
“I shouldn’t be.” She pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry. I’m not like them. I don’t know half of what you’ve been talking
about. I’m not a video person. This was a big mistake, and I apologize for taking up your time.”
He surprised her by smiling. “I appreciate your honesty and the fact that you don’t want to waste any more of my time. Goodbye.”
With that, he walked away. Shannon clutched her bag tightly and hurried to the parking lot. When she got in her car, she told
herself this was a good thing. She had a found weekend, so yay her. Only it didn’t feel like a win at all. It felt like one
more area where she’d failed.
Tears burned, but she blinked them away. One day she would figure it out, she vowed. One day she would know exactly what she
wanted from her life, and the second she got what it was, she would throw herself into the process, no matter the obstacles.
She would be like those teenagers in the class. All-in and fearless. One day, for sure.