I cried in front of three animation legends

Hey friend,

June was a wildly busy month. We hosted two parties for our film, fundraised $13,415 to support production (THANK YOU!!), I tinkered away slowly on story and sets, and yes, I cried in front of three animation greats. 

I’m one of three Black N’ Animated fellows, and through this fellowship we were connected to the three aforementioned animation professionals to receive feedback on our animatics. 

Two hours into a three hour Zoom, I began my pitch. 

Something you need to know about me: I’ve always been a crier. When I’m any overwhelming version happy, sad, angry, embarrassed, stressed, there is a good chance I meet these feelings with an abundance of tears.

It’s a quality many people, including myself, have a hard time understanding. At the same time, I think the sensitivity in which I approach life and art makes me the storyteller I am.

Like any artist, I’m no stranger to critique. Typically, it’s easy for me see feedback as an incredible way to take a story to its best version However, five minutes into the feedback portion of my presentation I felt my eyes begin to water.

Tears streamed down my face throughout the entire meeting. I was able to explain being sensitive, and despite the tears, I really appreciated the feedback and received a lot of clarity around the story. 

After I signed off, I was surprised and embarrassed… Why was I like this? 

After reflection, I realized how tired I was. I’ve been working 10-15 hour days 6-7 days a week between work that pays me and work that I’m passionate about to make this short’s October deadline. I’m building, I’m planning, I’m iterating, and it was demoralizing to realize I would need to go back into my story and change more than half the drawings I presented.

Animation is only as good as the story underneath, and I’m willing to do what it takes to tell a great story. So, I pushed back production, rearranged my schedule and, and started pulling my story apart and putting it back together. It’s produced some exciting new developments for the short’s structure. I can’t wait for you to see!

So, how will all of this get done? In stop motion, every single thing you see on screen is  hand-crafted by someone. On a big film like Coraline, they have an entire fabrication team. On Stitches Come Out, it’s just me.

After catching my breath, I have returned to my long days/no weekends schedule. I’ve decided to enlist the help of two of the most crafty people I know: my mom and sister. 

I’ll disassemble my five foot long set, and very carefully drive it from the studio to our home. The two extra sets of hands, plus the additional morale of being around my family, will be what I need to get this done on time. 

It’s hard for me to hold an unrealized vision: the delicate detail of the handpainted vines crawling across the faded brick building, the weathered telephone pole, and the busy bulletin board. I can see all of that and be faced with the reality of everything looking… Well, not like that at all. Bare and incomplete and ugly.

However, I know by the end of the month, I’ll see the set I’ve been dreaming of, and I’ll know that all the steps in between were necessary, painstaking, and dare I say… fun. I can’t wait to show you the end result! 

If you’re interested in seeing a lot of the visuals behind the scenes, Ezra will be stitching together some behind the scenes footage on my instagram this month, check that out here.

What projects are you working on? Do you have any questions about writing for film yourself? Have you ever cried at an inconvenient time? If yes to any of the above don’t hesitate to reach out, I’d love to hear from you.

AND If you made it this far in the email, thanks for reading, and if you could, respond to this email with the word “read!” I’m trying to get a sense of how many people make it here to determine if I should shorten these notes to you.

Yours,

Sara Inoa