Does Anyone Get to Be a Drama Writer? (3)

End of the second round of judging.

With the final round approaching, PD Woo Youngtaek went to see someone—Ha Doun, the head of the Drama Planning Department, whom he was on friendly terms with.

"Hmm...."

Ha Doun received the script and read it in silence. How long did that silence last? Soon enough, an exclamation burst from his lips.

"It's the real deal, no doubt about it."

"Heh. That's our department head for you. Old as you are, your eye for good work hasn't rusted one bit."

"You're getting cheeky. So. You're telling me you have no idea who wrote this?"

"Yep, that's right. I'm guessing it's one of the writers on hiatus at the moment, but I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠honestly can't tell. This style and approach to plot development—it's my first time seeing anything like it."

"Hmmm...."

Ha Doun recalled the script he'd just read. The distinctive repetition of certain words. The character construction. The occasional quirks of punctuation. The overall personality of the prose. Maybe he was imagining it, but exactly one writer came to mind as a match.

...No way. Absolutely not.

That heavyweight would never show up in a contest for rookies like this, and besides, the writer was already retired. No matter how he turned it over, the guess converged on a credibility of zero. Then who on earth was it? A rookie? An established name?

While he stewed over it, PD Woo Youngtaek needled him.

"Oh, come on, Department Head. Why does it matter who the writer is? It's entertaining, that's what counts. Am I wrong?"

"Right, it is entertaining, just as you say. But of all the timing—why does Writer Seong have to show up now? This just became a headache."

"Pfft. Seong's past her prime, why would she be in the running? What's the whole point of this contest? Discovering and nurturing rookies, right? So we should start with her excluded, on principle."

"You're out of your damn mind. Weren't you the one saying this writer's chops were on par with the established names? If you want to cultivate rookies so badly, why don't you go make a case for the other submissions?"

"That's not what I'm saying. And on pure quality alone, isn't Living with an Ex-Boyfriend by Chance a landslide win? Writer Seong's entry this time was pretty mediocre, if you ask me."

He wasn't wrong—Writer Seong Yura's script fell far short of expectations. Once the Queen of Rom-Coms abandoned rom-com, it was only natural the fun would suffer.

"Besides, this one's closer to a slice-of-life story, so production costs stay cheap. Writer Seong's work, on the other hand? We'd have to fly a helicopter and blow up multiple cars—how exactly do you expect us to cover that? You can already hear the budget getting gutted, can't you?"

"You little punk, you're completely smitten, aren't you? Or do you have some kind of grudge against Writer Seong?"

"A grudge? I'm merely discussing the potential of the work. Frankly, Department Head, you're thinking the exact same thing."

Ha Doun had also read Writer Seong Yura's submission, Suspect X. It was a tightly constructed, genuinely gripping plot overall. Even with the writer's name blinded, he'd have found it a pretty enjoyable read—that was a fact. But there was no praise beyond that, because it was a script with clear, undeniable flaws.

Well, she wasn't called a rom-com specialist ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for nothing. She does compulsively shoehorn romance in at every turn.

Romantic atmosphere kept being forced in at random moments that clashed with the genre. A kiss scene mid-chase. A bed scene during a strategy meeting. With the genre's flow lurching so drastically, it was impossible for immersion to survive.

"A dog's habits don't change in three days, as they say. Suppose Suspect X takes the Grand Prize and gets the programming slot bundled with it. They'll cram in forced melodrama and romance right up to the final shoot, and the ratings will tank—it's written on the wall."

He couldn't deny it. The future where ratings slid down on the back of forced romance was within his own expectations too, and there was no guarantee of the show being a hit at all. But if you widened the perspective beyond staring at a single tree, the story changed.

Even if it wasn't a jackpot right away, consider forming a good relationship with a star writer. Who knew when she might lay another golden egg—and as a bonus, connections could extend to the writers within Writer Seong's cartel. It was a golden rope, plain and simple. And the regret of letting that rope slip away was far too great.

"Anyway, Department Head, what will you choose in the final round? The Grand Prize winner?"

"How should I know, you brat."

"Honestly, you were hooked on that script too. One look at your face earlier and the answer was obvious."

What was the point of lying? Ha Doun let out a long sigh and reluctantly opened his mouth.

"Fine. I do think Living with an Ex-Boyfriend by Chance is better. A mainstream genre with that level of quality—that's game over."

"Okay! Then that's exactly what we'll do. Do not give the slot to Suspect X, absolutely ever."

"Hey, we still have to see the scripts through Part 4 before deciding. What if Writer Seong keeps hitting her average while this writer stumbles halfway through? Then what?"

So far, only Parts 1 and 2 had been submitted. The thirty works selected in the second round now had to submit additional scripts for Parts 3 and 4. The scripts through Part 4 would factor into the final evaluation.

"If that happens, it's over. No choice but to go with Writer Seong after all."

"Ugh, don't say such horrifying things. I absolutely cannot bear to watch that show get made into a drama."

"You think it's up to you? The work that deserves it gets chosen, that's all."

"If that's how it works, then fine. Living with an Ex-Boyfriend by Chance takes it, no?"

"Based on Parts 1 and 2 alone, yes."

The Grand Prize was decided by weighing more factors than anything else. Prose skill, sentence craft, mass appeal, completeness. For a named writer, track record could even count as a bonus criterion.

But the most important factor was entertainment value. If a work was entertaining enough, all those criteria could be set aside and it would still be elevated to Grand Prize winner. And if 'fun' became the top criterion, then almost certainly—

It'll be Living with an Ex-Boyfriend by Chance. No doubt about it.

Woo Youngtaek was one hundred percent certain.

2 p.m.

Inside my one-room rental facing south, blessed with an absurd excess of natural light. The brilliant sunlight pouring through the window even laid bare the dust on my laptop screen.

"Ugh, this is driving me crazy. What the hell is the problem?"

When you're unemployed, time is the one thing you have in surplus. So, resolved to do something—anything—productive, I'd started writing again, but the more I wrote, the more my pages filled not with satisfaction but with regret and complaints.

"No good, no good. Whew. Where am I even supposed to start tearing this apart?"

I pressed down hard on the backspace key, nerves fraying. The sentences I'd squeezed out of my brain moments ago vanished in an instant. After that, I overhauled the structure again and again and tried reworking the dialogue to sound trendier, but the result remained utterly wretched.

"...Is it the plot?"

Yes. The plot. Wasn't the plot supposed to be the skeleton of any piece of writing? Mine had the beginning, development, turn, and conclusion in passable shape, but none of the stimulating elements that could honestly be called fun. That was why it lost my interest. I went back to the beginning and started picking the plot apart piece by piece.

"Now that I look at it, the characters kind of lack charm too...."

Characters are the element readers immerse themselves in most easily. The protagonist especially is often seen as the reader's avatar. If those characters have no charm, of course nobody wants to read them.

I'd preserved each character's personality while adding complexes to give them dimension. I'd even written brief personal backstories for the supporting cast so they'd draw readers in too. I'd given the characters charm like that, and even so, the result wasn't remotely satisfying.

"No, no, that's not it. The opening is just way too slow. I built the plot fine, so is it that there aren't enough hooks?"

Just then, as I repeated revision after revision—

—KakaoTalk!

The elegant chime shattered my concentration. I returned to reality and checked my phone.

"...? What kind of bullshit is this?"

Rumors going around the Drama Bureau? And buy him whiskey if it works out—what exactly would work out? Every line was impossible to interpret, so I fell into brief contemplation.

The last time I'd seen this guy was at our last drinking session. But I'd drunk so much that night that I remembered nothing.

"Did I make some weird bet with him again? A whiskey bet this time?"

Unbelievable. Alcohol really is the enemy, I'm telling you.

"Whatever. Not buying it. Not buying it. I don't even remember it, so why would I buy whiskey?"

Having wiped the guy's nonsense from my mind, I was just placing my hands back on the keyboard to gather my scattered inspiration when—

—Bzzzzt! Bzzzzt!

This time it wasn't a KakaoTalk message but a phone call, complete with a vibration that rattled the entire desk.

Yoon Dongwoo—that persistent bastard actually called? Irritated, I checked the screen. It wasn't Dongwoo. It was a number I didn't know at all.

"...? Who is it?"

Well, no harm in finding out. I cleared my throat briefly and answered the call.

Click!

I hung up before she could even finish.

"Ugh, damn ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it. Spam."

What? A broadcasting station? A script contest? So this was a scam technique they were using these days? Talk about people with way too much time on their hands. Tsk.

Living with an Ex-Boyfriend by Chance had safely passed through the second round of judging. All ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that remained was to submit the Parts 3 and 4 scripts for the final round. The only worry was whether the quality of Part 1 could be sustained all the way through. If the most likely Grand Prize contender went off the rails midway, nothing could be a bigger disaster. That was what they'd all thought—and yet the disaster erupted from a completely unexpected direction.

"So, the writer still isn't picking up?"

"No, sir.... Still nothing."

"What? I got outright blocked?"

This was not a situation where they should have been worrying about the script's quality. They were worrying about the script's very existence—because the writer hadn't gone off the rails so much as gone completely dark. And the final round was tomorrow.

"You don't suppose... another network got to him...?"

"You little punk! Don't you dare jinx it!"

"If that's not it, there's no explaining why the writer won't answer the phone...."

Snatched up by another network, for real? No, hold on—if that was going to happen, why submit to the contest at all?!

"Damn it all!"

Woo Youngtaek, gripped by a creeping dread, tore at his hair for no good reason.

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