Jesseca Kusher

On Kent Island in the Bay of Fundy you have to brave the elements to send an email. For me, this often meant sitting in the middle of a field out by our clothesline in order to get the strongest line-of-sight wifi through the fog from a nearby island. Sometimes it was cold, like in the upper 30s at night, with bitter winds and a crystal clear starry sky. Other times it was wet and the wind would bite through four layers of clothing.

On the afternoon I first thought about joining the production I sat in the moist grass using my raincoat as a small shelter over the top of a borrowed laptop. Signing on to be Masen and Jacqueleen’s producer for their film thesis was quite an adventure itself.

I remember the nervous excitement when I received the first email from the director, Masen. I figured maybe I would email back and offer my services. Besides, Masen was an old friend from the film department, and I had survived an number of sticky sort of projects with him and Jacqueleen. I suppose my only concern was additionally completing my senior thesis in biology the same semester — would I have enough time to do a good job on both?

Needless to say, I didn’t respond immediately. For a moment I had some sense. It was better to under-commit than overcommit.

A day later, our department Production Manager emailed us a plug.

I could tell by her use of caps lock, Martha meant business. To be honest, I was confused as to why the dance majors were included on the email and I was still a little unsure of whether or not I wanted to be involved in the project.

That said, Masen’s email inspired me to begin outlining some of the work I needed to do for my film thesis, and it in turn made me realize how much outlining and organizing needed to be done. How would I do all of this on top of directing my own thesis in February? As far as my imagination could reach, I sat down and saw a perfect solution: if I worked as Masen’s PM I could in turn train an entire crew to work on my thesis in February. It was a plot so evil, so self-serving, and yet, so logical and ultimately helpful to the whole senior film class…

I sent Masen this reply.

Just like that, I sold my soul. In the coming weeks I would adopt the title of Producer as I earned it from the many hours I spent sitting in the cold to send petering emails to Masen and the crew. While the original script was rewritten, then scrapped, then developed into a totally new story, and rewritten a half a dozen more times — one thing would stay the same: I was all in.