Hello. I’m the script.
You probably don’t notice me much. I’m the quiet one in the corner—coffee in hand, hair slightly frazzled, muttering things like “Do we really need that word?” while everyone else debates motion paths and gradients.
But make no mistake: I’m the one teaching this project all the right dance moves.
I’m the choreographer you forgot to credit
Every video Honeycutt Inc. produces starts with me. I decide who twirls, who pauses, and when the emotional bass drop hits.
I jailbreak simplicity from the prison of complexity.
I cue the transitions, set the tempo, and make sure the story glides instead of stumbles. You can thank me for that moment where the narration hits exactly as the logo swoops in—yeah, that’s my choreography.
You might think of me as “just words,” but really, I’m the metronome everyone’s dancing to.
Blow me off and find out
Ignore me at your own peril.
I’ve seen it before. Someone decides they’re too busy to review me. So, the designers start animating anyway. The host wings it. The demo drifts into a soliloquy of value propositions.
It’s chaos—pretty chaos, maybe, but chaos all the same.
By the time I’m finally invited back (“We should update the script”), the production is already leaping about in 12 directions, burning hours and budget like stage lights in July. Nobody wants that.
Visual changes? Delays.
Voiceover redos? You guessed it—delays and more invoices.
I could’ve prevented it, but no one asked me.
Give me some attention
When you give me your attention early, when you let me choreograph the players before the dancing begins, magic happens. Sparks fly.
Suddenly, the visuals have rhythm and just the right amount of lens flare. The narration flows. The message lands gracefully on its mark, confident and clear. Everyone’s in sync: creative, client, and caffeine alike.
And best of all? The project stays on time. On budget. On beat.
Done right, everything just works
I don’t take a bow. I don’t get applause. But when it all works—the pacing, the tone, the effortless movement from one idea to the next—I’m smiling quietly backstage, knowing the dance went exactly as planned.
Because that’s my job.
I’m the script.
I don’t dance. I direct the dance.
And when I’m done right, nobody notices me at all. They just feel like everything moved exactly the way it was supposed to.