A leaf pressed between plain boards keeps the shape it had on the morning it was gathered. A character kept on a newleaf card is kept the opposite way to how most studios keep her. Redescribed at every sitting, she is reprinted by mood each time — a hairstyle rewritten, a signature detail edited out — and by the ninth frame the desk shows two similar women instead of one. Written once and kept at the front of the desk, the card is the one description that never goes soft at the edges.
The card holds five lines in fixed order. Age — a plain number, and here a mature one. Hair — colour, length and one habitual style. Build — two or three words, no more. Face — one or two details that endure every crop. Signature — the detail that survives even a tight frame. Everything else belongs to the day’s line below the card: outfit, corner, hour, light — set fresh at every sitting, never confused with the card itself.
The routine is plain. Paste the card, word for word, at the head of every prompt. Generate at the standard cost of 6 credits, keep the best third, and spend on repairs, swaps and upscales only after judging — judged against the card at the desk, not against yesterday’s frame, which may itself have drifted.
The press stays shut so the card never has to change. Set hers once, in writing, and every new frame comes off the same woman.