Does Anyone Get to Be a Drama Writer? (1)

"Congratulations on your debut, PD-nim!"

"If this drama does well, you're buying us beef, right? No backing out!"

"For the record, I don't count it as beef unless it's hanwoo. Haha."

The moment I stepped into the broadcasting station lobby, the junior PDs popped their faces out at me. Every one of them giddy with excitement — and though it wasn't even their accomplishment, they were congratulating me with pure, unfiltered joy.

"Are you congratulating me on my debut, or do you just want the beef?"

"Aw, come on, obviously both."

"If you could only pick one?"

"...."

"Hey. You hesitating on me?"

I playfully smacked the shoulder of the youngest, who'd gone sheepish in an instant. This kid had been getting bolder and bolder lately. Still, I couldn't help finding it endearing. Given the situation, I felt like I could turn even someone spitting in my face into a laughing matter.

'So this day actually came.'

Debut. I'd groveled like a dog for five years for that one thing. I worked as if the day had forty-eight hours in it, and I volunteered — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠deliberately — to clean up after the main PDs and absorb their abuse. And at last, my first project bearing my own name, Beyond Memory, was ready to meet the world.

'Finally.'

My debut work, ten whole months of my life poured into it. The process had been brutal enough to kill a man, but in this moment, all I felt was joy.

"Yeonwoo hyung!"

A voice called out suddenly from across the hall. It was Ahn Sungho, the youngest PD on my own Drama Team 2. I assumed he'd come to congratulate me like the others, but something about his expression was off.

"H-hyung, you need to see this."

"?"

Ahn Sungho thrust his phone toward me. I was about to ask what all the fuss was about when I felt my heart drop like a stone.

I thought I'd misread it. Wondering if last night's alcohol hadn't fully worn off, I rubbed my eyes and stared at the screen again. Nothing had changed.

"Hyung. Are you okay?"

"...."

How could I be? This was my baby — nearly a year of bone and soul ground into it. I had personally seen it through everything, from the initial planning to the script revisions to every last meeting for actor casting. And now this? My mind went blank white, and the emptiness was quickly filled by a hot, rising fury.

"P-PD-nim, calm down."

"A sudden main director swap... there has to be some kind of mistake, right?"

Without answering the voice behind me, I headed somewhere. I even shook off Ahn Sungho's pleading hand and took the stairs at a run — I had no patience left for waiting on an elevator.

—BANG!

I flung open the firmly shut office door. Inside, my eyes met those of CP Han Kanghee, who was shuffling through paperwork. He frowned and let out a deep sigh.

The reaction of a man annoyed that a troublesome burden had just rolled his way. It confirmed, precisely, the suspicion I'd been nursing.

"Was this your doing, Director?"

"PD Ji. Just calm down and listen first."

"This is a project I planned and developed myself. I ran the planning office review, the writer meetings — all of it, start to finish, was me."

"I know. I know all of that. And I completely understand why you're this upset right now."

But despite his words, he clicked his tongue in irritation.

"Still, it's all for the good of the team, isn't it?"

"The team? If it's so good for the team, why are you stealing my debut project?"

"Whew... Fine. Yes, you wrote a hell of a proposal. I know you worked hard, too. But this production's budget is a whopping 15 billion won. Fifteen. Billion."

Tap tap. Han Kanghee drummed on the desk as he continued.

"The investors are raising hell, saying they want a reliable veteran over some green rookie PD with no track record. What am I supposed to do? If I hand it over to you anyway and it flops, you couldn't shoulder that responsibility alone. You might bite off more than you can chew."

"Is that really the reason?"

It was a shameless excuse. He was blaming the investors, but the truth was different.

"It's not because PD Park is in your faction, so you're pushing him up, is it?"

"What? What did you just—"

"And Director — the 'veteran' you handed it to is PD Park Junhyung? That's the best excuse you could come up with?"

PD Park Junhyung had recently flopped drama after drama, and his standing in the industry was on shaky ground. Being told that this nobody was a "veteran" was so absurd that not even a hollow laugh would come out. I didn't need to guess — he just wanted to steal someone else's rice bowl to shore up his own crumbling position.

"What do you think you're doing right now! Are you insane?"

"Yes. I think I might be. Why don't you try grinding yourself to death under a superior just like you, Director? See if you stay sane."

"You little—!"

Han Kanghee bellowed and shot up from his seat — then, just as quickly, cleared his throat and resumed his performance of a kindly voice.

"Whew... Look, kid. I know full well how hard you worked. You didn't think I'd just shut my mouth and give you nothing, did you?"

He spoke as if he were bestowing some enormous benefit. What followed, however, was pathetically small.

"I specially pulled some strings with the Bureau Chief. You're getting a million won in department store gift certificates as 'planning participation compensation' for this project. Your team's been expecting a debut celebration dinner, haven't they? Grill yourself some nice hanwoo, eat your fill, and let it all go."

Han Kanghee opened a drawer, pulled out a stiff envelope, and dropped it carelessly onto the desk.

"And from next week, you'll be learning under Junhyung. Building up your hands-on experience slowly before debuting — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that works out better for you too, doesn't it? I've already put in a good word with him, so he'll take special care of you."

"...."

I wasn't a child. He thought he could buy me off with pocket change? And on top of having my main debut project stolen, he wanted me to play the abused mutt under PD Park?

'What a joke.'

Park Junhyung. What kind of man was he, exactly?

—Yeonwoo-ya, this scene structure idea of yours is great? I'll borrow it for the meeting.—S-sure?—Oh, and wrap up the script revision minutes for me, will you? I've got family business today. Thanks, great work!

A parasite among parasites — the kind of washed-up PD who plagiarized his juniors' ideas and dumped his grunt work on them at every turn. A hundred years under a man like that and there'd be nothing to learn. If anything, I'd regress. Han Kanghee knew it too — that was exactly why he was sending me to PD Park Junhyung under the banner of "hands-on experience." To keep the incompetent Park Junhyung under control.

'...Damn it.'

Even if that worked out, nothing would come to me. Which meant he was telling me to go run errands for the bigwigs at the top. Business as usual, in other words.

The moment I reached that conclusion, my scattered reason began drifting back to me.

"Got all that? It's a shame this time, but a debut's no big deal — you can just do it next time."

"Next time? No."

I yanked the employee badge off my neck. The words hanging from the blue lanyard — SBC Drama Bureau Producer, Ji Yeonwoo — had never felt more shameful.

Tap.

The badge fell, pathetic and small.

"There is no next time. I'm done. I quit."

"What? Are you serious right now?"

"Yes."

"Whew. I try to be civil and you still don't get it. Hey, Ji Yeonwoo. How do you plan to survive in the real world, acting like this?"

"Worry about your own job, Director. You're still leering at the actresses at every company dinner, aren't you?"

"Wh-what did you just say?!"

Han Kanghee's face flipped like a palm turning over, and he started growling. But I no longer had the energy — or the need — to respond to every last thing he said. I turned my back without a word.

"You disrespectful little punk! Get back here! If you walk out like this, how do you plan to deal with the fallout? You know damn well how small this industry—!"

—Screech! SLAM!

I shut the door behind me and walked out of the office. I trudged off in a daze — and ran straight into the person I least wanted to see.

"Ah, Yeonwoo-ya. Heard the news from the Director."

PD Park Junhyung laid a hand on my shoulder with a warm, friendly smile.

"Aw geez, I don't even know how to apologize. I always seem to be a burden to you, don't I?"

"...."

"Anyway, thanks, kid. You set the table so well that all I have to do is put my spoon down and it'll be a smash hit."

I knocked his hand off my shoulder and kept walking. Behind me, PD Park Junhyung tossed out one last barb.

"Yeonwoo-ya. It's fine that you're leaving, but at least finish up properly, yeah? Make sure the location scouting files and the confirmed supporting-cast picks are handed over nice and clean. No point in us getting red in the face at each other in an industry this small~"

This bastard, right to the very end. Every fiber of me wanted to sprint back and plant one on his smug face, but of course, reality didn't allow it. All I could do now was swallow my rage and walk out of this broadcasting station. That, and nothing more.

The greasy smell of grilling pork belly hung thick in a shabby little joint. I knocked back soju after soju — I'd lost count of how many.

"Ahh."

"Hey. Slow down. If you pass out, I'm the one who suffers."

The moment I emptied my glass, my friend across the table refilled it. His name was Yoon Dongwoo — my college classmate, now working as a variety show PD at another network.

"Anyway, it's my treat tonight, so quit drowning in soju and eat some meat. Seriously, how many bottles is that on your own?"

"Why does the soju taste better than the meat today?"

"You lunatic. You're already drunk?"

I'd thought all I had to do was grit my teeth and endure. I'd thought if I just directed well, everything would work out somehow. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠But it didn't.

As long as I was tangled in that godforsaken office politics, there was no climbing up. Never mind that there was no rope to grab — every time I reached for the top, the guys above me kicked my hands away. How was anyone supposed to climb like that?

"Ugh, damn it... It's such bullshit I can't stand it."

"Cheer up, cheer up. Honestly, you held back a lot, for you. Look at you, actually finishing the handover like a champ."

"I didn't exactly finish it cleanly."

A crooked smile tugged at my mouth.

"Why? What did you do?"

"Oh, nothing much. I just packed the handover files with nothing but early drafts full of continuity errors and called them the 'final version.'"

And I'd offset the location booking dates and the actors' schedules by exactly one day each. Park Junhyung, you son of a bitch — let's see you choke on that.

"Wow. You're absolutely insane. What if they catch you?"

"I'll just say it was an honest mistake. What are they going to do about it?"

At that, Yoon Dongwoo burst out laughing. We clinked glasses. The clink of glass rang out, oddly clear and bright tonight.

But what followed the satisfaction was an enormous emptiness. Four years of my youth, and all it had bought me was a few shots of soju and a petty revenge served as a drinking snack. What a pointless life, really.

"So."

While I was sinking into heavy thoughts, Yoon Dongwoo looked at me with a serious face.

"What are you going to do now? Are you quitting broadcasting for good?"

"No idea. Travel the world, work in a factory — whatever happens, happens. Oh, but I'm never touching this industry again."

"Heh. Yeah, figured you'd have no lingering regrets the moment you walked out with that disaster of a handover."

I answered with a faint laugh and picked up a slice of pork belly. Before it reached my mouth, one more shot of soju.

"Ahh."

Was the alcohol catching up to me? My head felt like it was starting to spin. I was rubbing my dry face, trying to sober up, when—

"Hey, by the way. You haven't been writing lately, have you?"

"What? Writing?"

"Yeah. Writing novels has been your hobby forever. There's quite a pile of manuscripts you've sent to my laptop, too."

Writing, huh. Truthfully, I still scribbled now and then as a hobby. Just last night I'd been hammering away at my laptop and barely slept.

But why was he bringing that up out of nowhere?

"Why do you ask all of a sudden? Don't tell me — if I've written something new, you want to read it, like before?"

"That too, but first, look at this."

Yoon Dongwoo pulled a stack of papers out of his bag. I didn't bother checking them, just waited for what he'd say next.

"Our drama bureau is holding a script contest. The grand prize money is insane, and if you win, it goes straight into production."

"And?"

"You know that rom-com you showed me a while back? Can I quietly submit it to our drama bureau?"

"What?"

I drank all the soju myself — so why was this guy drunk? For a moment I was dumbfounded, and answered with a hollow laugh.

"What kind of nonsense is that? Why would you submit a script written by someone who isn't even a writer?"

"He's wrong. Honestly, I've seen plenty of writers' scripts in my life, and yours is more fun. Hell, even Writer Seo Eunhye said you had talent, remember?"

Writer Seo Eunhye — a star writer who once ruled Korean television. She was retired now, but back when I'd just joined SBC, I'd worked on one of her drama productions. Every so often, I'd show her my drafts and ask for advice on my writing. And yes, just as Dongwoo said, she'd praised me, said I had real talent. But.

'That was all empty talk, wasn't it?' ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ A routine, cheap bit of comfort tossed to a poor junior PD slaving away at her errands day and night. I knew all too well how tear-jerkingly ruthless the professional world was — I wasn't stupid enough to get drunk on a little lip service and lose the plot.

"Hey, hey. How does comparing me to actual writers even work? I'm not even an amateur — I'm just some random guy who doodles with words as a hobby?"

"That's exactly why I'm offering to submit it. It'd be a waste to let your talent rot. Hm?"

"Waste? Nothing's wasted. Your time is what's wasted, you weirdo."

"Aww, come on."

He put on an earnest, pleading face.

"I'm saying I'll handle the submission myself, so what's the harm? And hey, you never know. Your script might blow up."

"Ugh. Fine, fine. Do whatever you want. It's not like submitting it will change anything about my life anyway."

"Oh, for real? Okay! But if it takes off, you owe me, got it? I'm the one who made you a writer, after all!"

The man himself wasn't expecting anything, so why was this guy getting all worked up?

'Does anyone get to be a writer?'

At his fussing, all I could do was snort out a pointless little laugh.

© Nuriyong#1j8ui