Chapter Seventeen #2
I see the first mockup of Ashla and can’t help but
squeal with pure joy. Sure, she’s an alien with orange skin, blue eyes, and
white facial markings. And she has headtails instead
of hair. But she’s so beautiful, she takes my breath away.
She’s a far cry from any character I’ve ever played, but I
love her so much already.
So much of my time is spent being in awe of this process. I
think about how I thought they were done making more Galactic Wars
stories. So, being here now, originating a brand-new character, makes me feel
like I’ve won the lottery.
Plus, this role could allow me to leave a legacy like the
well-known characters before me. No one will remember me playing the punk
rocker in a movie, or any of the characters I played on Workin'
for Laughs, but this? This really could be my breakout role. The
one that finally has people knowing my name.
A lottery I can literally tell no one about.
The plan is to record the entire first season before any
announcements are made. I’m very lucky that I have understanding family and
friends. Jen’s made a game of asking me vague questions, hoping to get me to
give her even a tiny bit of information, but it never works. She and her
boyfriend are huge Galactic Wars fans, so I know she’s excited for me,
but she’d be even more excited if I gave her the scoop.
Gah! I’m so frustrated yet giddy at the same time.
Which pretty much sums up my life at the moment.
When I’m in LA and working on The Echo Wars, every
day is filled with nothing but positive energy. Everyone working on the series
is psyched to be a part of it, and since we can’t share what’s going on with
anyone outside of the studio, we’ve become like a little family.
Or a really cool and exclusive club.
But when I’m back in St. Louis, I have a lot of anxiety
and…well…frustration. I’ve done everything but tie Christian to a chair to
prevent him from going to the stadium, but nothing’s worked. He’s still
playing, still in pain, and every day when he leaves the apartment, he comes
home moving a little slower and wincing a lot more.
What else can I do?
“Hey, Ella!”
I turn and see our showrunner, Amy, coming into the studio.
I smile. “Hey. How are you?”
“I’m fine, thanks. Listen, we made some revisions to the next
episode. Twenty-two pages worth,” she adds with a small laugh before handing me
an envelope.
I inwardly squeal with glee because…twenty-two.
We get hard copies of all the scripts to ensure nothing gets
leaked. People working on the Galactic Wars project in the past have
had their emails and computers hacked by fans trying to find out what’s coming
next.
“We really love what you’ve done with Ashla so far. And now
that we’ve completed the artwork for her, the animators can finally get
started.”
“I have to tell you, I love how the writers have her
developing. Ashla really is such a fun character, and I’m having the best time
breathing life into her.”
She nods but doesn’t say anything at first. I can sense that
something else is coming, but I don’t know if it’s good or bad.
When she doesn’t move to leave, I feel a knot forming in the
pit of my stomach. Nothing good ever comes when a showrunner—or any of the
creative executives—comes to talk to you privately.
“Is everything okay, Amy?” I ask.
She hesitates for just a moment before seeming to resign
herself to the conversation.
“Obviously, Griffin Lawson is overseeing this project,” she
begins.
Griffin is the creator of the entire Galactic Wars
franchise. He is very involved in this project, but we don’t really work with
him directly. He works out of his office in San Francisco, and we record the
show in Los Angeles. But we hear many stories about what he thinks about the
project, and sometimes, we even receive notes about our performance. Seriously,
I cannot believe that Griffin Lawson knows my name.
I nod and wait for her to continue.
“He’s been listening to the recordings and looking at the
artwork we have so far, and he’s not sold on some of the voices.”
I feel like I’m going to be sick.
Wasn’t she just praising me? Didn’t she say how they all
love what I’m doing with Ashla? And she gave me a script. That has to mean
something, doesn’t it?
My head starts spinning when I realize this is how the
conversation typically goes when you’re being let go. You get a heap of praise
before they lower the axe.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
But the script…
Swallowing hard, I nod again.
“We all know Griffin is the genius behind the entire
universe. It’s practically unheard of for a movie to launch an entire saga that
remains popular for thirty years,” she says with another small laugh.
A nervous laugh? A normal one? Does she find this amusing?
Another silent nod as my lunch feels like it’s lodged in my
throat.
“The man knows this world better than anyone. So, if he
feels a voice isn’t right, then we need to fix it.”
She pauses, and I swear the room feels about twenty degrees
warmer. I may pass out if she doesn’t get to the point in the next ten seconds.
I let out a shaky breath. “Amy, am I…am I being fir—?”
She cuts me off before I can even finish the sentence.
“What? Oh. Oh, no, Oh, Ella, I’m sorry. I should have led with that.” Reaching
out, she gives my arm a reassuring squeeze. This time, her laugh is definitely
nervous. “Gosh, I’m so sorry. This whole day has been a little wild. We’re
recasting the role of Lukan Karzen. Griffin
insisted.”
“Oh, wow…” I murmur. I’m devastated because Mark Andrews
voiced that role, and we were becoming good friends. I feel so bad for him. “Do
you have someone lined up already?”
“We do. Griffin went over all the auditions
and—ironically—we’re going with another Mark. Mark Taylor. I wanted to let you
know what was going on before you heard it from anyone else.”
“Does this mean we’re going to re-record the episodes that
we’ve already done?”
At this point, we’ve only completed four, but I’m curious.