Earl Newton.com » Creativity 101

Canon T2i: A Long-Thought-Out Impulse Buy

Earl Newton — Sat, 24 Apr 2010 18:05:26 +0000

After news of these magical DSLRS with the powers of Movie inside them, I decided I had to find out what the fuss was about.

So yesterday, I bought this.

And yesterday, slightly later, I started shooting a short film, and it looks like this.

Will post the film when it’s done.

WGA says: “Get Outside the Box, Get Into the Tubez”

Earl Newton — Tue, 06 Apr 2010 14:53:24 +0000

Maybe not in those words, but basically, yes.

I found this terrific video from the WGA about the way the Internet can enable writers to break beyond the written page to take control of their own work and how it’s seen. (I touched on this topic of writers in The End of the Screenwriter ).

Less Talk, More Rock (Video Game Narrative)

Earl Newton — Wed, 31 Mar 2010 12:56:10 +0000

Boingboing.net is hosting a terrific manifesto by Craig Adams (AKA Superbrothers). It speaks about the narrative experience of video games, but storytellers of all sorts can find something here.

Here are a few excerpts to whet the appetite:

When there’s just a little bit of talk…it has a peculiar, haunting, poetic effect. It tickles the intellect just enough for it to stir, but not enough to irritate it.

An entire generation seems to have become used to experiences …choked by voice acting, mangled by incongruent narrative…These elements serve to undermine the aesthetic coherence of the work — they can dilute the magic, they can interrupt the flow, they can disrupt the basic audiovisual communication, they can break the spell.

Find the link to the whole manifesto below.

Less Talk, More Rock

Test-Screening Your Screenplay

Earl Newton — Sun, 28 Mar 2010 22:01:05 +0000

I read a blog post from Bill Cunningham tonight about an Uma Thurman film that made less than $200 on opening weekend. Bill blamed the lack of an interesting story, I agree. Read his whole post for some hard truths about the movie business that indies can’t ignore.

The natural question arises: how do you tell if your story is interesting?

Shortest answer: if people are interested when you tell it.

Telling / Listening / Going Viral
Regular people are remarkably prepared to hear movie pitches; maybe more so than movie people are. It happens all the time for regular people.

“Hey, what’d you see last weekend?”
“You’re catching the Matrix? What’s it about?”
“I didn’t see the trailer for Hard Candy, is it any good?”

All of these (and countless more) are everyday invitations to a movie pitch.

That’s why the “high concept” movies (movies defined by an innovative idea or hook) became so appealing to studios. They are easily-digestible ideas that sound good when you tell them to others.

Matrix is a perfect example. No matter how you explain it, it sounds good.

“Its a meditation on the nature of reality, disguised as an action movie.”

“it’s a cyberpunk kung-fu movie with amazing effects sequences.”

“Keanu Reeves and some hot chick best the shit out of a bunch of evil government guys, and Laurence Fishburne is as cool as Samuel L. Jackson, but way classier.”

I don’t think anything “goes viral” because people believe in the innate quality of the work. I think it’s because everybody wants to be the person who found something cool. So your ideas have to be good enough to make people essentially co-opt them as their own.

And when somebody tells their friends later about your movie (doing your pitching for you), they tell the pieces that A) were good enough (or bad enough, beware) to remember and B) are likely to make them look good by telling it. If you don’t have anything like that in there for the audience – why do they want to tell anyone?

“Yeah, I saw that movie. I can’t really remember anything good about it…you should totally go see it!” File this under “never happens.”

The Parking Lot Pitch
So when I’m developing something new, I’ll sometimes tell people about it. This is the “parking lot” version of the story, where we’re all hanging out by my car right before they go inside the thester and decide what to see. And – in my imagination – someone says, “(Name of my movie)? What’s that about?”

“It’s great,” I say. ”It’s about a…” Or: “It opens with this amazing scene where…” And the story flows from there.

The great thing about this process is the instantaneous, unavoidably honest feedback. When somebody’s eyes go glassy and the Smile/Nod Syndrome sets in, you know you lost them. When they are hanging on your words (and asking real questions), you’re gold. Pay attention to when and where that happens, and you’ll get a sense of what needs work in your story, and where the keeper moments are.

The parking lot version is the most pure form your story will ever take. Unimpeded by budget, casting decisions, or even your own ability with the written word, it’s a flow of ideas, pacing, mood, and it conjures in the audience’s mind the best possible realization of your story.

And if – no matter how many times you tell it, restructuring it with different scenes or leads or ideas – your audience still goes glassy from the first sentence, drop the idea. You will have more ideas. You will have better ideas.

Remember, William Goldman isn’t a better writer than you because of how he COULD have made that bad idea work; he’s a better writer because he would have dropped that idea already and started writing something else.

Read This Instead of Screenwriting Books

Earl Newton — Sun, 14 Mar 2010 01:32:01 +0000

I have read a number of instructional screenwriting books, but I can’t really think of anything useful I’ve taken from them. Most of the sources that inform my screenwriting aren’t about it at all.

Here’s the advice I refer to whenever I’m writing:

Get in and out of the scene as fast as you can – William Goldman
In everything, consider its opposite – Judith Weston
Can I convey this information without dialogue?
Use an element once, or use it three times. Twice sets up false expectations
Don’t use excessive numbers of words Brevity is best.
Do you actually care about this moment, or are we just supposed to care?
It needs a rewrite. Again.

It’s a simple list, but it works for me. Leave your own advice in the comments and I’ll update the list with the most relevant ones.

The best advice on screenwriting you can get

Earl Newton — Fri, 05 Mar 2010 11:49:06 +0000

Today, Marc Scott Zicree related the description of story theory I’ve ever heard: “You start with a character with a problem. You continually throw shit at him in Act Two, until he is in the deepest shit possible.

“If it’s a tragedy, he doesn’t escape it.

“If it’s a happy ending, he or she figures out their problems and succeeds. That’s it.”

Were you looking for something more complicated?

Matt Wallace’s Top 10 Points for Professional Writers

Earl Newton — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 05:29:47 +0000

Would-be professionals: take “writer” and put “director / actor / editor,” etc. Matt Wallace’s Top 10 Points for Professional Writers Related posts:Running a Television ShowAdapting Prose to the Screen (interview)WGA says: “Get Outside the Box, Get Into the Tubez” Related posts:

Req’d Viewing: 70-min Star Wars Review

Earl Newton — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 23:28:04 +0000

A good movie succeeds for its own reasons, but most bad movies tend to fail in the same ways. When the movie has an enormous budget, the actual creative mistakes become more clear: there can be no excuse of “we couldn’t afford it.”

Friend and composer Alistair Cooper turned me onto the 70-minute Phantom Menace, and having seen it, I think it’s a quintessential example of learning from a big-budget mistake. It should be required viewing for any storyteller.

You don’t have to have seen Phantom Menace to understand most of this, but it would help. It begins as an overview of the story and characters, and then delves deep into a beat-by-beat analysis of the film. Some of the later sections address specific character concerns (Qui-Gonn is a drunk), but there’s still enough important storytelling theory to make it worth anyone’s while.

(There are some “You Suck at Photoshop” author-as-character moments interspersed within the review, presumedly to break up the rhythm, so be ready for some weirdness. I can tell you the review is worth it. I also find it funny how the author has an excellent grasp of story structure and theory, and yet his own works ends with an awkward anticlimax. Nobody’s perfect.)

Part 1/7:

Part 2/7: Story

Part 3/7:

Part 4/7:

Part 5/7:

Part 6/7:

Part 7/7:

If you like the tone of these reviews, you can find more at RedLetter Media.

The Danger of a Single Story

Earl Newton — Fri, 15 Jan 2010 17:09:42 +0000

From TED.com: Chimamanda Adichie discusses the danger of having only one story about a person or place.

The video and my comments after the jump.

“The consequence of the single story is this: it robs people of dignity.”

Adichie has a beautiful way of talking about prejudice and ignorance without ever using those words or adopting a preaching tone. With equal candor and humility, she talks about her American roommate expecting her to be ignorant and poor, just as she herself expected her childhood servant to be lazy simply because he was poor.

While I think Adichie intended this as advice for living, it applies equally well to storytelling. It’s a simple, practical tool to ask yourself: “How many stories do I know about my characters?”

Let’s imagine a coal miner. Is he an oppressed laborer, crushed by a unsympathetic company?

Let’s ask his foreman. Is he a lazy idiot who cannot show up on time?

Ask his wife. Is he a distant, cold housemate?

Ask his mistress. Is he a tender lover, afraid to share his fears anywhere but in the dark?

He is none of these completely, yet each make up a piece of his picture. As you compose his actions in your head, it becomes easier to ask yourself, “Which story is my character playing out now?”

“There is never a single story about any place.”

Storytelling is based on seeing. It is very much like working with a police sketch artist. Unless you can fully imagine the person, you cannot describe them.

The process of creativity is the process of asking questions about your story until you have enough answers to move forward. ”Who is this person? What do they do?” If you stop asking too early, you’re settling, and the picture of your character will emerge as a hazy cliche.

Remember: creativity ends when we stop asking questions.

The MacGuffin Exposed

Earl Newton — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 14:00:21 +0000

“In crook stories it is almost always the necklace and in spy stories it is most always the papers.”
- Alfred Hitchcock -

If you’ve ever taken a film class, you know what the MacGuffin is.

(I actually got into an argument once with a teacher who insisted the MacGuffin was the most important element in a film. While it’s important to the characters, it is almost irrelevant to the actual film, or to the audience’s experience.)

TVTropes.com has a great wiki set up about the MacGuffin and the sub-groups they’ve discovered. It’s a fun read, especially for avid story theorists.

TVTropes.com -> The MacGuffin

(discovered this link courtesy of the lovely archives at JohnAugust.com)

Be An Original

Earl Newton — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 14:10:28 +0000

Rian Johnson (director of “Brick” and “The Brothers Bloom”) did a great interview on MakingOf.com, where he puts into words something I’ve been formulating for awhile.

Key excerpts of his quote, and the full video interview under the cut.

His advice for screenwriters: (paraphrased)

“Find what’s important to you, and stick to that…don’t give into the temptation of shaping yourself around some sort of perception of what the market wants or what people want. Or God forbid, what critics want.”

As children, we learn to get what we want by finding what other people want and giving it to them. Take that as obedience to your parents, doing homework for your teacher, adopting habits of dress and behavior to be accepted into a social group.

When you get into the entertainment business (and perhaps other businesses as well), you find conformist behavior has a glass ceiling. The more you conform, the more you blend into the crowd.

I had the opportunity several years ago to strike out for LA and make my way. But I didn’t, and I didn’t for a specific reason: it seemed to me, the more I made myself available to the Los Angeles crowd, the less valuable I’d become. There are already thousands of filmmakers in Hollywood knocking on doors and hawking scripts; at some point, they all have to sound the same.

I have guided my steps based on this principle: the more you are able to strike out on your own (creatively, logistically, or both) the more valuable you are.

Here’s Mr. Johnson:

Find your thing, find what makes your voice unique, and stick to your guns…in the short term, it’s gonna seem like that’s what’s holding you back, that’s what’s making it difficult to break in. In the long term, that’s what’s gonna make your voice unique and what’s gonna pop you up above the crowd and get you noticed.

Most importantly, in my opinion:

And on a more fundamental level, it’s what will sustain you creatively, being honest to what you want to put out there in the world.

It’s easy to forget the above, with the glut of books about “the rules of filmmaking!” and “Top 10 Mistakes Every Screenwriter Makes.” (First mistake: forgetting to check if the author of the book ever actually sold a screenplay)

I get turned off when I hear creative people talking about the Hero’s Journey and “four-quadrant entertainment.” I’m all for studying the principles that guide our business, but if you make every move based on “what do people want,” you’re going to choke yourself into mediocrity.

George Lucas. Pixar. Steven Spielberg.
The great creative people of our time understand the principles that guide their business, but they don’t look to principles for their solutions. They reach inside themselves, find something true, and draw it out into the world.

And when they do it right, they find the thing that people always wanted but didn’t know to ask for. That’s why they are considered geniuses.

Your career is a long-term proposition. No matter how good you are, it is going to take a long, long time to get anywhere with it. You will not have the stamina to survive the journey if you use it all trying to please other people.

Break what you learned in school. Don’t echo your classmates. Find something you love and cultivate the skills to communicate why you love it.

The critics will take care of themselves.

Dealing with Silence, Part Two

Study Everything

Earl Newton — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 14:00:11 +0000

Real problems from fake people.

Dear Earl,

I read your post about how screenwriters should become directors to protect their work. Isn’t that a bit much to ask somebody? It’s hard enough to learn one job.

In that specific case, I was referring to the screenwriter’s weakened position in the moviemaking system.

Directors have more power. Ergo, if screenwriters want the power to protect their stories, they should seek a position of power. I’m not saying every artist needs to study every field.

Oh, thank goodness.

But now that you mention it, it’s not a bad idea.

I never went to film school. There’s a fun story behind that, which I’ll tell another time.

Without any formal guidance, I had to build my own curriculum. So for awhile, I studied film books. And in my studies, I came across a man named Sergei Eisenstein.

// STUDIES WITH SERGEI //
Eisenstein is the creator of, among other films, the Battleship Potemkin and its famous Odessa Step sequence. He lived during film’s early innovation years, when the idea of cutting two shots together was a revolutionary idea. Literally.

INT. EISENSTEIN’S HOME – SOVIET RUSSIA – CIRCA 1925

Outside, the Soviet government is tapping their toes, waiting for EISENSTEIN to complete his latest work of masterful propaganda.

Eisenstein toils with the antiquated film stock, carefully joining dozens of cuts to create the Odessa Steps sequence. By hand.

EISENSTEIN

I would kill for iMovie right now.

The idea of creating meaning by joining shots is almost second-nature to us now, but Eisenstein helped pioneer the practice.

So where did he get the idea? Not from studying films (there were hardly any films to study).

INT. JAPANESE SAKÉ HOUSE – 1920

Eisenstein sits studying Japanese with a very drunk JAPANESE PATRON.

EISENSTEIN

Wait, each character in Japanese writing means a different idea?

PATRON

Yup. belch.

EISENSTEIN

How do you express more complicated ideas?

PATRON

Some have their own characters. Others, you combine characters. “Dog” plus “mouth” is “bark.” “Bird” plus “mouth” is --

EISENSTEIN

Song!

PATRON

You got it. hic.

EISENSTEIN

Holy shit. That’s awesome.

PATRON

Yup. burp. You wanna go invent karaoke?

By taking concepts from Japanese writing, and combining it with his own experiments in the Soviet cinema training program, he helped develop the idea of cutting film.

// CUT TO: EARL, CIRCA 2001 //

The story of Eisenstein’s discoveries changed the entire way I viewed my self-education, and in the process, changed the way I work, both creatively and otherwise.

From Eisenstein’s story, I learned:

• There are no irrelevant fields of study.
Everything relates, in some way, to everything else. Knowing how one system or discipline works can inform your knowledge of others.

Obvious example: I started life as a screenwriter. Becoming a director (and with that, an editor) taught me what worked on the screen, and what didn’t. It informed my imagination in a way that “more writing” couldn’t have.

Less obvious example: for a time, I worked as an American Sign Language interpreter. I didn’t know it then, but working in a completely visual language taught me the feel for the subtleties of nonverbal communication. I learned how to tell stories better by applying the principles I learned in sign language.

• Good ideas come from anywhere.
You don’t know where the next great idea you have will come from. That makes everything interesting, on some level. And it also encourages collaboration and humility when you’re working with others. People want to work with me again because they feel like their creative ideas are respected. That’s because when they speak, I listen, whether I agree or not.

• Learning doesn’t stop.
If any discipline can influence any other, how do you know which ones to study, and when to stop? The answer to both is: “you don’t.” And that’s exactly where you want to be.

That passion for learning maintains with Funakoshi called “the beginner’s mind:” a mind open, unbiased, and excited to understand. (A concept I wouldn’t know to apply, if I hadn’t studied Shotokan karate)

// STUDY EVERYTHING //
Study what you love. Study some things you hate. Above all, study the jobs that relate to your career.

Screenwriters should know how to direct; directors, how to act. Novelists should know how to edit their manuscripts.

Everyone should know something about marketing.

You do not have to be an expert in any of these. But knowing enough — the lingo, the mindset, the necessities of the job — will inform your own work. You will know how to avoid the pitfalls that appear further down the line.

And if the field has nothing to do with your passion, tremendous. You are more likely to discover an insight about your work that no one has ever thought of, because they never thought to look for answers in the study of architecture. (Or robotics, or computer programming, or avid gaming)

If I were a screenwriter starting today, you know whose job I would study?

The unit production manager. AKA, Them What Puts the Budget Together.

Knowing how to keep things cheap is an excellent tool for a screenwriter to have.

Especially now.

Are Awards Worth It?

Earl Newton — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 06:59:37 +0000

Real problems from fake people.

Dear Earl,

We just received an email announcing the open entry period for a big media award/film festival, and we’re going to enter!

Awesome, congrats. Why are you entering?

When you win, the trophy is amazing, it’s made of crystal and golden butterflies — wait, what? What do you mean, ‘why?’ It’s a big award/film festival!

How much is the entry fee?

Huh? I don’t know. It’s somewhere around ($50/$100/$200).

Maybe it’s just me, but if someone is asking for more than lunch money, I like to know why I’m doing it.

INT. GRAND BALLROOM – NIGHT

Easily fifty tables filled with the world’s most beautiful people, every one holding their breath. Nerves on edge. Somewhere, a media darling bites her lip in anticipation.

Every pair of eyes turned to the host, delicately holding an envelope.

HOST

And the winner is...

The RIP of the envelope is a thunderclap across the heavy silence.

HOST

You!

The collective breath EXPLODES into applause, screaming, people rising to their feet --

-- Tears in your eyes, you’re standing, and everywhere, hands awkwardly slapping your back, shoulders, grabbing to shake your hand --

-- You take the stage, and the roar leaps another level --

-- You grasp the award and it’s so REAL, so much heavier than it looked --

-- and as the noise dwindles, you step to the mic, and begin to speak.

YOU

God, there’s so many people to thank...

Everyone born after 1953 has imagined this for themselves at some point. And when you finally commit to being a professional creative, you’re hit with so much hard reality (disappointment, compromise, and poverty) it can seem like the last bit of magic left.

And it is. For one night.

But after the champagne is all gone and the press has gone home, a new day dawns and you’re left with a clunky conversation piece. And not much more. There is no honor in winning awards.

You’re depressing me.

That’s because, as an audience member, you have always admired awards. That admiration is what you’re going to count on now, as a creative professional, when you realize that awards are really only good for marketing purposes.

Awards are something you wow the audience with. Awards get you jobs, get you access to higher-caliber collaborators. In a marketplace glutted with competing talent, awards give you the benefit of the doubt.

Isn’t that the same thing as honor?

It is and it isn’t. Honor is an ambiguous idea that floats wherever we place it. What I’m talking about is credibility, and that has a very concrete value.

So I shouldn’t try to win awards?

You should absolutely consider it. But be discerning. Like anything creative, you should take into account your audience first.

And before you offer yourself up to be judged, be a judge yourself. This award/film festival claims to be prestigious and noteworthy: have you ever heard of it? Is it something recognized by your industry, your clients, your audience? If not, you may get better results spending your marketing budget elsewhere.

Because that’s what you’re doing, when you submit to win an award. As much as you’re putting yourself up against your peers, you’re also entering a blind bid for something to add to your press kit.

Set aside the validation of winning. If someone offered you the chance to buy this award, for the same price as the entry fee, would you do it?

That’s how you know if an award is worth it. It cannot be about validation. If you don’t already know you’re good enough to win, you probably aren’t ready to enter.

Running a Television Show

Earl Newton — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 06:15:50 +0000

Found this blogpost on Twitter, courtesy of Matt F’n Wallace. It’s a piece by Kurt Sutter, a TV showrunner, and it digs into the little-mentioned world of television runners. It’s a world I’m currently fascinated by. Film directors brag about shooting a 2 hour film in 30 days. A television showrunner could be overseeing the production of between 13 and 22 hour-long features, each of which will be turned around in a matter of weeks. In short, these guys know the process, and they know how to multi-task.

The Importance of Loss

Earl Newton — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 04:05:12 +0000

Scifi Wire posted this story (Warning: Sanctuary Spoilers) about a recent plot twist on Sanctuary.

What Really Happened To (Spoiler Deleted)

Here’s the excerpt I want to focus on (emphasis mine):

Creator Damian Kindler: “Once we know for sure about a third season, there is definitely an Ashley story in there that we’re developing…(snip) The intention was to never kill her off with any finality. It was always to kill her off in a way that was dubious at best and fraught with inconsistencies and fraught with mystery and isn’t completely solved even when they have to put her to rest and move on.”

Let’s start with some disclaimers.

I haven’t watched the show beyond a few clips.
Because of that, I may have missed some essential piece that would change my forthcoming opinion.
Mr. Kindler may have come up with an innovative way to break the rules.
I really, really doubt that 2 or 3 is the case. Therefore…

I would pose that Mr. Kindler’s statements are incredibly destructive, and harmful to his own show.

WHAT WE KNOW…

There’re no Hollywood secrets anymore. As an audience, we all know storytellers will lend our favorite characters a bit of immortality, for the sake of our love and their ratings.

IS NOT WHAT WE NEED TO BELIEVE…

We need to believe this storybook world is real, with real consequences. We need to believe terrible things could happen to our protagonists. It makes their triumph over adversity that much more exciting. That’s what makes them so memorable, and our time with them so special.

The threat of loss is an essential part of storytelling, simply because safe people are not interesting to watch.

What Mr. Kindler has made clear, in his innocent wink to the sci-fi audience, is death is only as permanent as his whim: any hurt undone, any tragedy repealed. Not interesting.

WE WANT THE MAGIC

Storytelling is a kind of magic act. It’s about misdirection and suspension of disbelief. You see something amazing and you want to believe in it. Stories give us that permission.

We know it’s all a trick, from the first moment. But the best magicians convince us the illusion is truth and the danger is real.

How magical would it seem, if the magician began with, “Now, if you’ll look carefully, I have a spring-loaded sleeve with a rabbit in it…”

Me – On Art

Earl Newton — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 03:43:32 +0000

Last week I spent a few days in Auburn, Al, catching up with Doc Waller, executive director for the Layman Group. He did an interview with me (as Board Emeritus for the group) about art, the Layman Group, and their collective futures, and you can see the best pieces of it here:

Earl Newton on Art

Dealing with Silence, Part Two

Earl Newton — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 16:32:02 +0000

Through the back-channel of blog links, I found Gabrielle Harbowy from Dragon Moon Press linked to my blog post, Dealing with Silence and Rejection, as part of an excellent post of her own: Dealing with Rejection.

I highly recommend you read the entire post. Gabrielle is an editor for Dragon Moon Press, and really offers the much-needed insider view on this issue.

My thoughts on her post after the jump.

Look especially at #2: “It’s a one-shot business transaction.” That is my entire thought in a nutshell: it’s business.

It seems to me a lot of submissions are sent, not as a business proposal, but as validation-seeking: “if they accept me, it means I’m good!”

Editors (producers/directors/publishers) are business people. You shouldn’t seek validation from business people. They aren’t in the validation business.

So if you still feel concerned that your work isn’t up to snuff, relax; it probably isn’t. Take your time, develop your craft, and step up to the plate when you’ve got something you know you can sell. Anything before that, and you’re cracking the egg before it’s time to hatch.

You’ll appreciate the gestation period later, I promise.

(insert “avoiding ‘egg on your face’ joke”)

Juggling Real Life and Writing

Earl Newton — Fri, 14 Aug 2009 13:00:21 +0000

Mur Lafferty (author of Playing for Keeps and the Heaven series, amongst other celebrated works) posted a terrific article about the problem of juggling “real life” and writing*.

Welcome to Real Life

* replace writing with drawing, composing, editing, dancing; whatever your particular passion is.

Destin Log article

Earl Newton — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 04:20:21 +0000

An article about my entré into filmmaking was recently published in the Destin Log in Destin, Florida. It talks a lot about what first drew me into storytelling. Fraser Sherman penned the article, and you have to hand it to him: it has a killer opening line:

When Earl Newton was 10, he convinced his friends he was born on another planet.

The article hasn’t been posted on the Destin Log’s website, so I’m linking to a repost of it on TMCnet.com.

Read the full article here.

True Stories: Rachel White

Earl Newton — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 03:40:37 +0000

“True Stories” is a series of videos examining the thoughts and feelings of artists as it relates to their art. I produced this series for the Layman Group, featuring select members of the board of directors.

I thought Rachel White’s comments were especially on-the-mark. Listen close when she starts talking about “being the right puzzle piece.”

Stranger Things fans will also recognize Rachel as Madeline from Disconnect.