Pre-production is where you decide what you're willing to die for. Not literally—though the industry has a way of pressuring you toward martyrdom with a smile and a calendar invite. I mean: what are you willing to be misunderstood for? What are you willing to insist on when everyone else wants "safe," "clean," "brand-forward," and "a little more like whatever went viral last week"?
Mood boards are polite lies. Shot lists are prayers. Tech scouts are reconnaissance missions in enemy territory—enemy being time, weather, location managers, and the violent indifference of reality. Call sheets are choreography for chaos. The best pre-pro doesn't make the day easy; it makes the day survivable without sacrificing the soul of the concept.
This is where AI can be genuinely useful—like an uncomplaining assistant who never sleeps, never forgets, and never takes your nervousness personally. Use it to generate contingency plans. Use it to translate your aesthetic into concrete steps. Use it to simulate coverage options when you don't have the location yet. Use it to draft the first version of the logistics so your brain can stay focused on what matters: intention.
But—and this is the part people dodge—pre-pro isn't a checklist. It's a selection process. You're choosing the one nerve you're going to press until the image confesses. Thompson didn't write by assembling neutral facts; he wrote by finding the raw nerve in a situation, then refusing to stop touching it. Pre-pro is that refusal, formalized.
Here's a practical truth disguised as philosophy: the day will collapse toward the simplest option unless you build rails. "We'll figure it out on set" is often just fear with good branding. The rails are your decisions—what you won't compromise, what you'll sacrifice, what you'll protect. The rails are your lighting plan, your blocking, your wardrobe logic, your set dressing rules, your lens language, your coverage priority.
AI can build you a thousand rails. It cannot tell you which track your soul belongs on. That part remains—annoyingly—human. And that's why the best pre-pro feels like a crime committed politely: controlled, intentional, and slightly dangerous.