Christine Yoon
mThe embers of an editorial association like me – in New Orleans, the only child of a Korean immigrant mother – may agree that finding the maps needed to the path to the final career and the paths needed to more machetes.
My ICU-Nurse mom had a double shift, so I sold it on a volunteer babysitter board that had nothing to do with me, and many of them spoken languages that I didn’t know to me. As it was the 80s, smartphone-based entertainment was not available yet (I don’t allow a game boy – it seems!). So when I was surrounded by a strange environment, I learned to be quiet, and I found ways to take up a long time, teach myself new skills and work hard. (I should also mention the necessary little Asian girl piano lessons, an early barometer of excellence in any editorial timing I may have.)
TV and movies are not on my radar during adolescence; we occasionally go to blockbusters, rarely theaters. My spare time is dedicated to animal-based pursuits: riding horses, volunteering at the zoo, zoning while staring at the backyard lizards, etc., etc. But on a fateful day, a high school student government project asked me to have VHS cameras on my shoulders, interview classmates, and tone on the linear editing card.
I went on to the Nerds Bootcamp course with Macromedia Director for a surprisingly pleasant experience in the emerging field of multimedia CD-ROM creation. My last project in the course may or may not be an excuse, it can get some attractive tennis nerd trainers on tape, but since I filmed them on blue screen, it’s also my first synthetic experience.
Based on this course, I invented the job of undergraduates: producing CD-ROM-based promotional video content for the admissions department, which forced me to learn the ultimate cuts to professionals. Meanwhile, my passion for my expected biological repertoire gradually fades away from the angle we begin to mask the inner heart of the living creatures. When I sly realized that I was sacrificing study time for the show, I told my mother that I declared a major in “cognitive film theory” (because the film department at Kennyn Academy does not exist yet).
I spent a year in China teaching English at a prompt to watch “Farewell, My Concubine”. (Ask me about the brush with the Communist-controlled broadcast content.) After I returned, I participated in the MFA movie show at Florida State University (FSU), spinning each live location, and demonstrating competent Dolly Grip won the Student Academy Award winner. But after I lifted Panther Dolly up the back of the stairs, I swapped any grip ambitions in my life’s degenerative disc disease.
When the 2007 writers strike began, I brought a new master’s degree to Los Angeles. To rent a house, I taught the last one-to-one one-to-one cut in the Apple Store. I learned Apple’s Color (RIP) by attending an employer-accredited research break, avoiding the sales ground, turning on the ticking of unreliable budget-free color show on Craigslist.
With my bargaining reel, I managed to make my first radio show: the Spillover of the Medium Reality Show. When their seasonal output waned, I went on to work as an assistant editor, absorbing excellent data management and troubleshooting tips for ten camera scriptless gigs. As the color work resurfaces, the same is true for online editing, while my software track Amoeba will include AVID, Premiere, Resolve, and any other situations required for specific situations. My project series also expands on drama marketing and behind-the-scenes content.
Now, in the demand for non-union color/online work, I congratulate myself on meeting the requirements of my unrecognized unreasonable, work-life balance. For example, I once completed two and a half hours of TV series at a 39-hour conference, and once saved a not-so-strong post-match. When I was in a long-term position including the first ever health insurance, even my FSU alumnus Benjamin Bumgarner repeatedly reminded me that I depended on it. Once I realized my precious colors/online shows were less paid than the union assistant editor scale, I adjusted my attitude.
I will always be grateful to Ben for using his assistant as a helper, pushing me to the local 700 and teaching me best practices for scripted projects that will permanently change my work-life balance. Thanks to him, I found a way to get into NBC’s “Chicago Fire”. After Megan D’Arco and Tim DeLuca seized my chance, I managed to squeeze the weasel into an editorial seat where I greedily absorbed as much of their expertise as possible and learned ownership of offline editorial decisions.
The remote workflow returned me to New Orleans after the pandemic, where I tried to get a local short challenge in 101 styles. [Channel 101 is a monthly short film festival in which participants submit a short film in the format of a pilot under five minutes long, and audiences decide which submissions should return with a follow-up episode for the next round. – ed.] This activity made me actively learn: in the postal service it brought me into the fusion of Davinci Resolve (even Fairlight -eep!); in production, it turns out that cameras running on board would always induce my motor disease.
Despite the lot of water, my flood-prone hometown gave me zero sea legs. Go to the numbers.
Christine Yoon is recently the recommended editor for restaurants in New Orleans and an Au Courant resource. She can be contacted at see.why@cynematics.com.
