Preproduction
The central storyline of the pilot concerned a conflict between Stacy and her baby-daddy about their 2-year-old child. Stacy was busting her ass to support their entire family by running an ice skating school with her two friends. Her husband Mark, meanwhile, was attempting to find success as the leader of a white rap group that had a dude in a chicken costume for a hype man. Needless to say, the rap group had yet to become successful, and so it fell on Stacy's well-toned shoulders to pay the bills. She was exhausted, strung-out, and sick of this scenario.
"Jonathan, I'd like you to take a crack at talking to her. A new voice on the phone might help."Sophia, by the way, was not an evil person. She was actually incredibly kind, generous, and empathetic. This empathic personality is, paradoxically, what made her great at the callous manipulation of others that her job required. I too am extremely empathetic, and quickly established myself as a trusted confidante to our cast. But despite our similarities, Sophia and I differed in one crucial arena: She was a successful reality showrunner, conditioned to the demands of the industry. I, on the other hand, was a newbie associate producer who had yet to adjust my moral compass to the ethically bankrupt setting. But, I had a job to do, and no time to reflect on what it took to do it.Our execs scripted an on-the-nose 'ultimatum' for Stacy to deliver to her boyfriend: You have one year to make it as a rapper, or I'm leaving you and taking the child with me.
Day One
We stopped shooting as I pulled our "bitch" Monica aside, for an emergency shit-stirring pep talk. We needed Monica to rain on the white rap parade and tell the guys that their group was doomed to failure. Monica was taken aback and insisted she didn't really feel that way. Her resistance was met with a smile from Sophia. Surely, Monica's friends would understand this was just a little fake drama for the show?With the entire cast speeding toward a collective blackout, Monica launched her attack: "It's been ten years, and you guys haven't made it. Give it up. You lost the rap game."A vodka-Red-Bull-fueled hell broke loose. The guys screamed at Monica, prompting a shrill retaliation from Stacy and Elena. Mark pushed Monica against the bar's battered juke box. I looked at the people in charge; surely someone would stop this. Instead, the fight poured out onto the street and the cameras followed. Monica burst into tears as Mark spat foul epithets in her mascara-stained face. As a last ditch defense, Monica threw Sophia under the bus."I didn't even wanna say that shit! Sophia made me! It's just for the show!" Monica screamed to Mark as he stormed off.But Mark kept walking. It didn't matter who said it. What mattered is that it was true: the band probably wouldn't make it. Sophia knew this cast inside and out, and she knew what would trigger a violent outburst. We had gotten what we came for. The fight would be preserved in the final cut, and Monica blaming Sophia would wind up on the cutting room floor.'We have a show' is a celebratory phrase uttered after successfully producing a wild and turbulent set piece that can serve as the dramatic core of an episode.
I hated every aspect of this low-budget shit-circus. But as I looked around at the wilted faces of our crew, I realized I wasn't alone. Reality TV is a place where people wind up on their way to somewhere else. In this aspect, the production team shared more in common with the cast than they would've liked to admit: We were all slogging through career quicksand together, biding time until our dreams came true. Few made it out, but that night I promised myself I'd be one of them.As Monica sat sobbing on the concrete steps of the bar, our director turned to me with a weary smile."We have a show."I didn't even wanna say that shit! Sophia made me! It's just for the show!
Day Two
"So do you think we have a chance of getting picked up to series?"This was the question that a bleary-eyed Stacy posed to me, daughter in lap, as we packed our equipment for the day. Under all that hairspray and fake tanner, she was a smart chick. Stacy knew this show was a way out of her oppressively carpeted one-bedroom and the struggles of her blue-collar existence. She would do whatever it took, even if it meant exploiting the most painful moments in her life. I didn't blame her; I simply wished her a safer escape route."I think we have a solid shot," I said even though I secretly hoped, for her sake, that it wasn't true.The angrier they got, the further we pushed them. It was a strange simulacrum, where the false scenario that we as producers had created actually became real.
Day Three
However, our cast would never experience this dubious success because the network ultimately passed on the pilot. I was secretly thrilled and celebrated by quitting my fucking job.During my last week in the office, Stacy swung by to say "hello." The senior level producers were desperate to avoid her, so I was given the task of entertaining our fallen star. As it turned out, things were going well for Stacy. Her husband had taken a job at the fire department, allowing their family to move out of the shoebox they had formerly called home. With Mark's extra income, Stacy was able to stop working around clock and see more of their daughter. She seemed balanced, happy even.After she finished her update, Stacy revealed the true reason behind her visit: "Do you think there's any chance the show could still be picked up?""I'm sorry, but no," I told her.She thanked me for my time, and I walked her to the elevator. As the doors slid shut, Stacy sighed. I can't say for sure, but I'd like to think it was one of relief. Ultimately, in her failure to find the American Dream, Stacy had been saved from an American Nightmare.Our entire cast existed on the edge of a dream come true. They were convinced the show would help them become 'successful'.