In this business, until you're known as a monster you're not a

Host: The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the city streets, filtering through the blinds of a small, cramped café. The clink of coffee cups and the murmur of conversations filled the air, a hum of life happening just outside their bubble. Jack sat across from Jeeny, his fingers wrapped around his cup, staring out the window. The light caught his face at an angle, casting a cool glow on his sharp features. Jeeny, calm as always, watched him with a thoughtful expression, her gaze lingering on him as if waiting for something—an answer, a reaction, an insight.

Jeeny: “You ever think about what it takes to really make it, Jack? I mean, people always talk about success, about being a star. But I wonder, is it really about being the best, or is it about being known?”

Jack: “I think it’s a bit of both. Sure, talent matters, but you can be great at something and still not make it. It’s about making people see you, getting noticed, creating a name for yourself. But there's something about the glare of success that doesn’t feel real to me. You know, it’s like they say, ‘In this business, until you're known as a monster, you're not a star.’ Bette Davis wasn’t wrong there. People talk about the work, but they remember the drama, the scandal, the persona.”

Jeeny: “A monster, huh? You think that’s what it takes to be a star? To be feared, to be larger-than-life in a way that overshadows the actual work?”

Jack: “It’s not so much about fear, it’s about recognition, Jeeny. To be a star, you have to command attention. Talent alone won’t get you there. You have to make an impact, something that sticks in people's minds, something that makes them talk about you, even when you’re not around. Davis knew that. She played the game—she embraced the role of the monster, the one everyone loves to hate. It’s that kind of intensity that makes you memorable.”

Jeeny: “But isn’t that the problem? We’ve come to think that success is all about shock value, about creating a persona that’s bigger than what you actually offer. Is that what success should be? A carefully crafted image of someone so outrageous, so impossible to ignore, that it doesn’t matter if you’re actually talented anymore?”

Jack: “I’m not saying it’s all about shocking people, Jeeny. It’s just about making waves. Think about it—look at the icons. The ones that stuck around. They didn’t just do the work, they made people feel something. They made people want to follow them, watch every move, wait for the next scandal. I’m not saying it’s the best way to live your life, but it’s what the world remembers.”

Host: A sudden breeze picks up outside, ruffling the leaves of a nearby tree. The café feels smaller now, the walls pressing in on them as the weight of their conversation grows. Jack’s eyes dart to the window, but his mind is clearly on something far beyond the glare of the streetlights outside. Jeeny, though still calm, can feel the tension building between them.

Jeeny: “But, Jack, don’t you think that’s a dangerous game to play? If you’re constantly chasing that kind of recognition, don’t you lose something real along the way? What happens to the person behind the image? What happens when the monster you’ve created becomes your only identity?”

Jack: “That’s the price of fame. The monster you become, the persona you create—it’s part of the deal. Look at how many people rise to the top only to burn out because they can’t separate who they really are from what they’re projecting. But in the end, isn’t it worth it? To be a star? To be someone everyone knows, whether they love you or hate you?”

Jeeny: “Is it really worth it, though, Jack? To be remembered for the wrong reasons, for being something artificial, something you built out of desperation to stand out? At what point do you lose yourself in that illusion? And when you do, what’s left?”

Host: There’s a moment of stillness. The air between them is heavy now, as though the very space they occupy is caught in the weight of their words. Jeeny sets her cup down gently, her fingers tracing the rim, her eyes steady on Jack. His expression has softened, but there’s still that spark of resistance, that unshakable belief that maybe the monster is part of what it means to succeed.

Jack: “Maybe you’re right, Jeeny. Maybe the monster is just a mask. But the truth is, people remember the ones who aren’t afraid to wear it. The ones who don’t apologize for being controversial, for being larger than life. They don’t just fade into the background. They leave an impression.”

Jeeny: “But at what cost? If you’re known for being a monster, what happens when the world stops caring? What happens when the persona isn’t enough anymore, and you’re left with nothing but the wreckage of what you’ve built?”

Jack: “That’s the gamble, isn’t it? But maybe that’s what it takes to get noticed, to get remembered. To be a star. If you’re not willing to risk becoming something people can’t ignore, then maybe you’re just destined to fade into the background.”

Host: The tension between them doesn’t dissipate; instead, it simmers, deep and quiet, like a fire burning low but never quite going out. The air feels thick now, as if their words are still swirling in the room, hanging like smoke. Jeeny looks out the window, her gaze softening, while Jack shifts, his hands tightening around his coffee cup. The city outside moves at its usual pace, the traffic humming, the lights flickering on as the evening deepens. Inside, the silence seems to stretch, heavy with the weight of the choices they’ve just named.

Jeeny: “Maybe there’s more to life than just being noticed, Jack. Maybe it’s about being remembered for something real, for something that makes a difference, not just for the drama you create.”

Jack: “Maybe. But in the end, isn’t it about finding a way to stand out? To be someone people can’t forget?”

Host: The evening continues its slow, inevitable shift into night. The warmth of the café holds them in place, and for a moment, their conversation seems to hang in the air like an unfinished thought. Jack looks at Jeeny, his gaze thoughtful, while she meets his eyes with a quiet strength. Neither of them speaks, but in that silence, both seem to understand—there are no easy answers. The world will remember the monsters, but whether they will be remembered for something more… well, that remains to be seen.