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**Chapter 65: Wrap Party **

"Cut!"

On the set of *The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2*, director James Wan’s final “cut” marked the completion of the film’s final scene.

“All right, that’s a wrap on shooting!”

Sitting in front of the camera monitor, James Wan let out a deep sigh of relief before raising his voice to announce the good news.

“Hurrah!”

Cheers of excitement erupted from the crew upon hearing the announcement.

The staff whistled and clapped enthusiastically to celebrate the completion of the shoot.

In Hollywood, horror films are known for their relatively short production cycles compared to other genres. Unlike action-adventure or sci-fi fantasy films, which often require extensive pre-production and post-production work, horror movies are generally characterized by smaller budgets and faster timelines.

For a slasher movie like *The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2*, which required minimal special effects, the entire process—from pre-production to the final wrap—took less than six months. Stripping away the time spent assembling the crew, securing funding, and casting actors, the actual filming took just about three months.

Even though *The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2* was shot faster than most films of other genres, the intense, back-to-back schedule over several months drained the passion and energy of everyone on set.

With the wrap, the film reels were safely stored and sent to Universal Studios, while the equipment was returned to storage.

That evening, the entire crew dressed in formal suits and gowns to attend the quintessential Hollywood wrap party—a night of revelry and celebration.

To be honest, Allen wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about Hollywood-style parties, especially since he had just attended the wrap party for the *Modern Family* crew in New York not long ago. However, as the screenwriter of *The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2* and a core part of the project, Allen had no choice but to participate in this social event, even if he wasn’t excited about the "chaotic revelry" these parties often involved.

For a modestly budgeted horror film, the nightclub chosen for the wrap party wasn’t particularly large, but it was more than adequate to accommodate the entire crew.

Universal Studios had rented out the venue so the crew could celebrate all night, letting loose after the intense filming schedule and preparing for their next projects with renewed energy.

At such parties, alcohol is always a staple. Everyone carried a glass, clinking drinks while laughing or shouting in celebration. For most attendees, this was the last time they’d see their colleagues from the project. After tonight, many might never cross paths again.

Allen sat quietly at one end of the party, holding a glass of wine in his hand.

The nightclub buzzed with Hollywood’s signature atmosphere of hedonistic indulgence.

Unfortunately for Allen, his current constitution made it nearly impossible to get drunk on ordinary alcohol.

As a result, he remained particularly clear-headed despite being surrounded by the rowdy festivities.

“Allen, so this is where you’ve been,” James Wan said, glass in hand, as he spotted Allen sitting to the side. Approaching him, Wan clinked glasses with a slightly tipsy smile.

“Cheers!”

“Cheers,” Allen replied. He raised his glass, downed the red wine in one smooth motion, and felt the cool liquid slide down his throat before asking Wan, “What’s next for you, Director?”

“Even though we’ve finished shooting, I still need to oversee the editing,” Wan said.

While the wrap signaled the end of work for most of the crew, including Allen as the screenwriter, the director’s job was far from over. After a brief break, Wan would dive into the intense post-production process, working with Universal’s editing team to piece together *The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2*. He still faced over a month of demanding work.

In Hollywood, it’s not uncommon for directors to be excluded from the editing process entirely. However, *The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2* wasn’t such a case.

Universal agreed to let James Wan participate in editing, thanks to the strong box office performance of the original *Texas Chainsaw Massacre* and Wan’s proven track record with successful horror films.

Without those achievements, a newcomer director would have almost no chance of convincing the studio to grant them editing privileges.

Of course, there are exceptions.

For example, in *The Blair Witch Project*, the “found footage” style left little room for traditional editing, eliminating the need for a dedicated editor.

“What about you, Allen? Do you have any new script ideas lined up after *The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2*?” Wan asked, shifting the conversation to Allen.

“Well, after wrapping this project, I’ll be heading to Los Angeles to join the *Modern Family* crew. The series has already started filming, and while I’ve been working on future episodes, ABC is pressing for progress,” Allen explained.

Unlike film production, TV shows require the writer to be deeply involved throughout the process. In the world of television, writers are the heart of the show, controlling its overall quality.

The "live" nature of filming and airing episodes means writers often need to be on set to guide the creative direction.

This dynamic gives TV writers incredible power—so much so that upsetting one could result in drastic consequences, even for lead actors.

One well-known example is Charlie Sheen from *Two and a Half Men*. After clashing with the production team, the writers killed off his character in an unceremonious fashion, having him fall in front of an oncoming subway train, leaving no remains.

While Sheen brought this on himself with his repeated antics, the incident highlights just how influential writers are in television production.

“It seems we’re both going to be pretty busy in the coming months,” Wan remarked, raising his glass with a wry smile.

“To Hollywood!”

Allen glanced at Wan’s raised glass. With a smile, he grabbed another drink from a passing waiter’s tray and lifted it.

“To Hollywood!”

---
(End of Chapter)

**Chapter 66: The Union **

"I've always wanted a daughter."

Los Angeles, on the set of *Modern Family.*

"Dress her in pretty little dresses, do her hair, get her nails done, and even put on makeup..."

The filming has reached the third episode of the script.

"I’ll let you in on a little secret. When Manny was a year old, I dressed him up like a girl and told everyone he was my daughter, haha."

In front of the camera, Gloria Pritchett put on an excited expression but quickly composed herself and explained,

"But it was only a few times."

"I didn’t want him to get confused about his gender. When he sees those photos from when he was little, I just tell him it was his twin sister who passed away."

Jay Pritchett: "…"

---

After filming a few episodes together, the cast of *Modern Family* had clearly found their rhythm.

They had embraced the narrative style of the mockumentary format, appearing as natural as possible in front of the camera, intentionally ignoring or pretending to overlook its presence to meet the mockumentary's demands.

On set, everyone was busy at work.

*Modern Family* was scheduled to premiere in ABC's fall lineup in September, airing at 8 PM.

This timeslot wasn’t exactly prime, but it was decent for a new show, at least avoiding ABC’s 10 PM “death slot.”

The “death slot” varied slightly by network but referred to commonly unpopular timeslots, with 10 PM being a near-universal graveyard for shows. A series assigned to this timeslot was often doomed to cancellation.

Of course, this wasn’t always the case. For instance, *Grey’s Anatomy* originally aired at 8 PM on Thursdays, which used to be one of ABC’s “death slots.” However, the show’s compelling storytelling defied expectations, becoming a network hit.

---

"Allen, about the script for episode four..."

Holding the script for the new episode, one of the writers approached Allen.

Over the years, the American TV production process has developed a standard template.

Unlike film scripts, often created by a single or small team of writers, TV shows, due to their larger scope, rely on a team of writers to produce and refine scripts as the series progresses.

The scriptwriting for *Modern Family* followed this model.

Allen, as the creator, outlined the main framework. Individual episodes were then assigned to the team of writers, who refined, analyzed characters, and collaboratively decided on the final content.

This model ensured consistent quality while also reflecting the efforts of Hollywood’s Writers Guild.

After all, networks only order and renew a limited number of shows each year.

Without such an approach, the Writers Guild couldn’t ensure most of its members retained jobs.

In Hollywood, not every writer is immensely talented.

For example, the original Allen earned meager wages by writing corny jokes for third-rate sitcoms, barely scraping by.

That was the harsh reality for many of Hollywood’s bottom-tier writers.

But those days were behind him.

Now, Allen was no longer the struggling, unknown writer he once was.

He had carved out a name for himself in Hollywood, becoming a key creator of *Modern Family*, with significant creative control.

And that wasn’t the only change in his identity.

---

“Not dramatic enough.”

Scanning the script in the writer’s hands, Allen thought for a moment before offering his critique.

“The conflict between Dee and Gloria should simmer more beneath the surface. They secretly despise each other but pretend to get along on the surface. I want this tension to build until the end of the episode, where an argument—or even a physical altercation—finally makes it explode, delivering a dramatic twist.”

Dee, the mother of Mitchell and Claire, and Jay’s ex-wife, was set to bring significant drama and tension to the series with her introduction.

“I understand, Allen,” the writer nodded, jotting down Allen’s suggested changes for the new episode.

Despite being older and more experienced, the writer knew Hollywood was a place where results mattered most.

If he wasn’t willing to take the job, plenty of other writers would eagerly join the team.

Noting the areas for revision, the episode writer hesitated for a moment before addressing Allen.

“By the way, Allen, have you heard about the recent Guild situation?”

“The Writers Guild?”

Allen’s expression turned puzzled at the mention.

In Hollywood, both actors and writers had their own unions.

Allen, in his earlier days, had been a member of the Writers Guild.

Back then, he was an obscure, unremarkable figure in the Guild.

“What happened with the Guild?”

“I heard there’s been constant arguing with the producers over the Basic Agreement negotiations. The talks aren’t going well, and there’s even talk within the Guild about a possible breakdown.”

The writer looked concerned as he spoke.

If negotiations failed, it would have little effect on a renowned writer like Allen but could devastate lower-tier writers.

As Guild members, they enjoyed the benefits and protections it provided, but they were also obligated to stand with the Guild in disputes.

“Perhaps it’s just a tactic by the Guild to gain leverage in the negotiations. The situation might not be as bad as it seems,” Allen reassured the writer.

Internally, however, he knew the Guild’s decision this time would exceed expectations, even those of the producers.

Sure enough, a few days later, the Writers Guild of America announced that negotiations had broken down.

The Guild declared its first strike in nearly 20 years, requiring all members to participate.

Any member who ignored the strike and continued working on film or TV projects would face severe consequences from the Guild.

---

*(End of Chapter)*