Okay, while I don’t really have the time to be posting this, I’m feeling the need to explain a few things. First and foremost, let’s get this straight — editing is a disease.

I bring it up not because I’m on the verge of a physical and emotional breakdown from having barely been away from my desk for over two weeks, much less my house (okay, maybe that’s part of why I’m bringing it up), but because three people have approached me in the last week to declare their interest in cutting porn.

No offense, but you’re psychotic. Fucking bonkers. One of them makes his living cutting short films and music videos, the second edits commercials and promo, and the third just thinks it would be “fun.”

Well, pal, if your idea of fun is sitting in the same chair until your ass goes numb, gaining weight like a webmaster with a DQ fixation because you work 18-hour days and can’t go to the gym ever, dealing with continuous headaches that vary from splitting to incapacitating from staring at monitors and wearing headphones for that 18 hours, feeling like general warmed-over shit, getting paid way less than minimum wage once you break down the hours and endlessly having conversations with friends who should fucking wellknow better that end with “What are you up to? Really? Still editing?”, then pack your fucking bag and get ready to start training.

The fact is, there are two kinds of editors in porn: the good ones and the happy ones.

The very few members of the first group are miserable fucks like me who agonize over footage that was shot under the worst kind of low-budget battlefield conditions, creating solutions to problems no one even knew existed until the poor bastard who’s cutting the thing starts trying to fix it. Even under the best of conditions, it is a job that consists of, as my friend Todd puts it, “making chicken soup from chicken shit.”

Cutting sex isn’t fun, especially if you’re a porn fan, and it certainly isn’t hot. Editing is where you get to fixate on everything that went wrong; all the messy anals; all the upchuck; all the yeast; all the floppy cocks; all the asses that can’t perform that day because they’re torn; all the idiots who can’t light or shoot camera.

The happy editors are just a bunch of hacks who don’t care. The worst part is, neither does anyone else. Porn is the only industry I’ve ever worked in where being really good at something can be considered a detriment. I’m an excellent editor, and Todd is outstanding. That means we care. And it means we’re slow.

I spent ten hours today finishing two minutes and thirty-three seconds of dialogue that comes near the end of Corruption. I’m really happy with the sequence, and were this a mainstream movie, I’d feel certain that people would watch it, and be entertained. They wouldn’t notice how it’s put together, but that’s what editing aspires to. It’s an invisible art.

However, being porn, I’m well aware that I spent my day crafting an excellent sequence no one is going to watch. Without trying to sound arrogant, we’ve managed to create a really remarkable movie with rockin’ sex scenes… and I don’t mean remarkable for porn, I mean fucking remarkable, period. But those movie chunks of the movie are just the Route 66 stretches of road between the Interstate of the chapter stops.

As the director, I could accept that. As the editor, who has now spent over 350 hours cutting this film, I’m finding it a little hard to swallow.

So, no, you do not want to start editing porn, anymore than you want an anal fissure or genital herpes. Trust me on this.

Fun… what a jackass…

Whatcha think?

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