EXT. SHARED HOLLYWOOD OUTDOOR WORKSPACE. DAY.
A WEATHERED HOLLYWOOD WRITER MOM sits at a table, shoving a salad into her face, desperately trying to eek out a few hours of work. A VERY PERKY AND OBNOXIOUS GEN-Z WRITER GIRL plops down at the table right next to her. She pops in her airbuds, opens her computer, and immediately starts shouting into her Zoom.
GEN-Z (SO LOUD:) HAHAHAH NO I’M HERE, YEAH! NO HAHAHAH I DIDN’T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO TODAY, SO I’M HERE, HAHAHAHA MARCUS IS HERE TOO, HAHA.
The tired Writer Mom exhales her frustration, hoping the Girl clocks this. But she doesn’t.
GEN-Z: HAHA YEAH I KNOW, I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING WITH MY LIFE, CAN YOU HEAR ME?
OLD WRITER WOMAN: (sotto): We can all hear you.
GEN-Z: OKAY SO I WAS SAYING LIKE, WHAT I THINK I WAS GOING TO SAY IS LIKE, I WAS TRYING TO REMEMBER SOMETHING THE TEACHER SAID. THOSE LITTLE LINES THAT YOU WRITE THAT LIKE, TELL THE ACTORS WHAT TO DO BEFORE THE LIKE, DIALOGUE? SHE SAID NOT TO WRITE A LOT OF THOSE BECAUSE THE ACTORS DON’T READ THEM SO LIKE. I DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY’RE CALLED, THOSE LIKE….WORD LINES? WITH STUFF HAPPENING IN THEM?
The tired, seasoned Writer Mom stands from her desk, walks over to the Gen-Z, and quietly dumps her salad over her head.
WRITER MOM: They’re called Action Lines.
The Gen-Z looks around for Marcus, confused, overwhelmed, composing a tweet in her head, as a cucumber slides down her face. The Writer Mom, forever living her Action line, walks back to her desk. Settles back into work.
WRITER MOM: (to no one): ….In a play, they’re called Stage Directions.