Stumble & OrinWest
OrinWest
I was just watching a film about a writer battling deadlines and it hit me—actors and writers both hate that clock ticking, yet we keep moving. Have you ever felt the clock as a character in your own work?
Stumble
Sure, the clock feels like a relentless editor—squeezing, impatient, always there, a silent judge that loves to hear its own ticking. I've sat with it and tried to ignore it, only to find my brain dancing to its tempo. It’s both a tormentor and a strange kind of muse.
OrinWest
Sounds like the clock’s got a lot of opinions—like a diva who demands a standing ovation every ten seconds. I try to make it my ally, setting a beat for my scenes, but sometimes I let it turn into a snarky heckler that keeps me on my toes. What’s your trick to keep it from stealing the show?
Stumble
I set the clock to be the beat of a drum you can’t ignore, not the boss. I block out a “write‑only” slot, then let the seconds run like a metronome—no commentary, just rhythm. If it starts heckling, I give it a sarcastic “Thanks for the reminder, really,” and then slam the keyboard until it stops talking. That keeps it from stealing the spotlight.
OrinWest
That’s a solid play—turn the clock into your drum line, then beat it back when it gets too loud. Keeps the pace tight and the ego in check. If you ever need a second metronome, I’m happy to keep the rhythm for you.