Long Distance Vision

When I sit on a panel at the Seattle Film Summit or any film festival, I often feel like I’m talking at the air. Hopefully something I say has weight and sticks. I mean I really hope someone in the audience will glean useful tips towards making their own films. This week I spoke to 9^th graders in Walla Walla, WA, a place largely untouched by the film community. If teaching teenagers is difficult on a regular day, trying to impress upon them how every classes they’re currently in can relate to film was a challenge.  But the take away, for them and for us, is the long-term investment.

For kids in high school, their goals are simple: take enough classes to graduate, get marks high enough to get into the college of their choice, begin the steps towards a career in something that interests them. I guarantee none of them think of their day to day like that. And even fewer filmmakers do. But that’s exactly what I have learned over our last five years as an independent filmmaker.

I cannot tell you how many green filmmakers come to us with an “idea”.  It’s usually a grand idea for them, and often very personal. It’s also not a very interesting story to a wider audience. Two people in a coffee shop is super easy to film, it’s also super boring. My husband and I partnered in film about five years ago. Since then, we’ve seen dozens of shorts and one feature through. We made a pact that we would only make films we wanted to see. So when a filmmaker comes to us with a dull story the first thing we ask them is “why do you want to tell this story?” If they can’t answer that question, we pass. If their answer is blasé, we pass.  If they have no intention of putting in any of the work to make it happen, you guessed it, we pass.

Filmmaking is not a quick turn around. Often there are long hard hours in development, pre-production and post can drag on for months or even years. The production- actually filming- is probably the most exciting phase but it’s also the shortest. For our first feature we were in development and fundraising for five months, shot for 18 days and post for a year. Three years later and a lot of tough-love-learning as we went, we have a UK and US distributor and are finally seeing fruit of our labor. 

Think about that for a minute. Over a year and a half to actually MAKE the movie. Another year and a half to see the film into distribution. That’s the equivalent of spending the whole of your high school or college years with a single goal in mind.  If you are not interested in the film your making, or it’s a dull story, can you imagine pouring 3 years of your life into it? My guess is no.

We also never stopped. Even though our feature was in post, we kept going. We made three more shorts and a music video to follow up. My husband snagged a feature and a short film in post and we both worked on a couple dozen commercials. All while continuing to pursue a course for our first feature. It’s paid off. This fall we will see our first feature film in distribution, and have the road paved for our next feature.

There were three points we left our students with and I’ll share them with you here.

1. Learn Everything You Can.  Every class you take can relate to a career in film. It’s impossible to tell a student whose favorite class is gym that they have a career in film, but they do. Ever seen a Marvel movie? Able-bodied individuals with a passion for athleticism are going to have healthy careers making movies. I reexamined my US History courses writing my last screenplay and I am constantly in needed of people who excel in math to help me budget our films. The student with a passion for cooking is able to cater my film and the student who really only cares about computers can program my special FX.  I’m constantly reading books and blogs from those who have gone before and I learn something new from all of them. Never stop learning, and always embrace the little things. You never know when you might need that course you once took on geometry to measure the distance and angle from your camera to your subject.

2.  Define Your Success.  The allure of the red carpet and an Academy Award is difficult to resist. It’s also not the truth for the majority of filmmakers. But success can be. I’m reading a book currently by a filmmaker you’ve never heard of, who earns a comfortable living making and selling films.  There’s a documentary on Netflix titled I Know That Voice about actors whom you probably know but couldn’t pick out of a line up.  Filmmakers in my hometown have screened their films at Sundance and Toronto and Cannes. They’ve sold those same films to Netflix or you can watch them on any of your digital devices. I know them- but you probably do not. My husband and I are full time filmmakers, and it’s probably this is the first time you’ve heard of me.  What we all have in common is that we work as filmmakers, and have done so for several years.  Success is not defined by how famous you are. It is defined by the quality of work you have created that allows you to continue providing for yourself and your future.

3. The Long Road. We were very naïve as filmmakers when we set out. We made a single short film our first year. The second year we made 3. The next? Eight shorts and one feature. It took time to plan them all. It took time to see them finished. It took time to see any sort of return on them. But we kept working, kept pushing and continued to follow through to the end of each goal.  It’s been a three year process to get our first feature into distribution. The short films all ended up online, and we’ve made some money off of all of them.  It took patience and perseverance to follow through. If you give up after the first rejection letter or the first project that falls through, you’ll never see the end of the road. The writer/director of The Fifth Element had that script for fifteen years before it became a reality.  Now he has 56 writing credits and 21 directing credits. Kathryn Bigelow directed for thirty years (some pretty amazing films) before the Academy recognized her work.

The same thing I told those 9^th graders is what I’d like to leave you with.  Find your passion, find your voice and keep going. The future belongs to those who move forward.

Back Breaking Benefits

This has been an October full of suck. It's usually my favorite month but between family and friends illness, personal injury and mourning a family loss... I'm kind of done.

Yesterday I went for a follow up for my own trip to the ER, because you know once in a week was clearly not enough. It's the first day I feel well enough to sit in a car since last Friday (and maybe a chair for any period of time). The residual effect of the pain meds the hospital prescribed have left me on bed rest with an upset stomach for almost a week.

I call, and gently remind the receptionist at my primary care provider's office of my condition, tell her it's to follow up because of my ER trip... I have to say that three times before it clicks with her. Then we go in.

Despite the fact that I'd been there the week before for a condition that had worsened, and to follow up the ER visit, we have to wait. We wait a long time. And Ondine is starting to act like any other toddler. And because it's a doctors office there other crying babies. But these don't bother me. They actually make me smile, almost longing for when she was little and things were so much easier. Then I snap back to reality and remember it was NOT easy.

The one dad takes his son outside for a moment to calm him down. When he comes back inside I can't help myself. I shout at him.

Me: Oh my God, does he have a bilateral cleft lip and pallet?

Bewildered (slightly embarrassed) father: Yes.

Me: He's beautiful.

Bewildered (slightly less embarrassed) father: Thank you.

Me: My daughter had the exact same condition.

She goes running by. A beautiful smile, no scar. He doesn't seem to believe me. We start to chat back and forth, my husband and I start sharing our story.

I show him where she started, which was much worse than where his son is for the pallet and lip. I show him more photos of her journey, the device she had to wear, the tape on her tiny cheeks. We talk about the doctors and the NAM molding that didn't work for his son but Ondine would be the poster child for. His sons name is Evan and he has a secondary condition I don't remember. He will have many more surgeries than Ondine because of it, but I would never know to look at his precious smile.

Evan's dad asks us if people ever stared, or gawked. Yes.

I tell him how it took some time to get over myself and not give a damn what anyone thought. I can tell that it takes the guilt and frustration off his shoulders to know someone else was judged the same way, to know that someone else felt they had to explain their situation because it is no ones fault that they were born with a cleft.

His wife comes out on crutches. She tore her ACL. She and I make a fine pair in our struggle to take care of our children with our injuries. 

She sits to feed Evan using a familiar pigeon bottle prescribed for such patients. We tell her some of the same stories we shared with her husband. We ALL complain how tired we were with the first bottle we had to use, grateful when they prescribed the new one. 

We have read some of the same blogs from Seattle Children's site, and heard some of the same stories. It's actually makes me forget about my back and my wait time for  my appointment because it's such an honor to talk to another family who's going through the same thing we did.

We keep talking. No one should cry because other moms, with their perfectly healthy babies, make them feel judged- but we both experienced it. I tell her I only pumped until 4 months but then broke down in tears that I wasn't a good mom because I couldn't feed my own baby. She almost cried, because she didn't make it even that long and thought she was the only one. 

I can see the relief on both of their faces to see our before and after photos. There is nothing that a doctor or expert can say that will be the same as seeing first hand the before and after. There is nothing that can replace the anxiety with the assurance that everything will be alright as witnessing someone else who has passed through the fire before you, with you can.

I am really grateful I injured my back. You see, we were supposed to be somewhere else Wednesday evening. But somewhere else didn't happen. My appointment took too long.  And because of that we were able to share Ondine's Journey with someone new. I can't begin to tell you how the light I saw on their faces, in their eyes, when I told them "I know how you feel" and they knew that I could actually say so. 

There is nothing that takes away the fear of taking a child to a hospital completely, but I'm grateful I suffered a little so that these strangers would know they were not alone and find hope.

Midnight Rush

It's 20 to midnight. The Seahawks lost. My husband is sick, my back is out, and just I'm case today wasn't awesome enough, Ondine decided tonight would be a good night for a hospital run.

So were here, waiting for meds to kick in so they can stitch up her absurdly deep gash from her acrobatic flip over my lazy boy chair. Oi. Vey. 

With all that in mind, I'm so grateful for Seattle Children's Hospital. Their staff is efficient, kind and dedicated. It may be the night shift, but they're as bright-eyed as if they just got here. The nurses have tricks to get kids to calm down or focus on something other than the exam at hand and, just in case, there's helpful kids movies to watch for kiddo distraction.

So while I'm in really severe (read I can't hardly walk myself) back pain and my husband is having trouble breathing normal, at least we can take short stuff to this grade A hospital with top of their class staff to attend her owies large and small.

I love my emerald city, especially our fantastic Children's hospital.

Waiting on Talent

That's a phrase you never want to hear on set as an actor. It's usually not your fault.  You're typically sent to wardrobe for something or a makeup change or who know's what, but it happens and there's nothing you can do about it. And it's always said in a snarky manner like you're not in the room.

Then there are the times when you arrive as talent... and the crew is nowhere to be found.

You have certain expectations for work. I would never expect to be a lawyer and suddenly the courthouse wasn't where it was supposed to be. That's what it feels like when you arrive at location - 15 minutes early just in case- and there is no one there. It's rare that I've had this happen. In fact, it's more typical of a student film than it is on indie filmmakers who are professionals working outside the studio system. But it happened. This week in fact.

The Commute

Wednesday I drove myself an hour-plus to Puyallup for a car commercial. In Seattle time, that's very good traffic, but distance enough to be noted.  I arrived early with the hopes of getting some writing in.  I got a few pages but I kept checking the clock so much I decided to give it a rest and walk around.  Luckily everything was within blocks so the pub I was at was walking distance from the park I was told to be at.

Despite what you might imagine, it's typical for a film company to shut down an entire park or at least a section of it to control what the environment around the story looks like. This was not what I saw. I see lots of people, but no defined area for filming.  I see no grip truck, no honey wagons, no crew nothing. So I decide to post shop on a shaded bench and just wait for what might be a ghost hunt.

Guerilla Filmmaking 

A few minutes before my call time, a gentleman recognizes me from our various encounters on Facebook and through the Seattle 48 Hr Film meet ups. He's a production assistant for the day and he's the only reason I'm recognized. It's also the reason the actor playing opposite me is recognized as he heard us say hello and came to join us. Luckily he and I knew each other from another film and had already talked about us both working together that day.

The crew arrived and I realized I'd worked with this team not long ago on another commercial. They are super professional and I enjoyed working with them. A few minutes later the make-up artist was doing our hair and makeup, the crew was sectioning off a space to film and we were shooting within 30 minutes.  We wrapped, we signed on the dotted line and we were done.

On set... for an entirely different shoot

I was paid, they were paid but the rest of it was sort of on the fly. My only conclusion was that the client didn't want to pay for all the things they would need to achieve the goals they were asking for. I.E. Permits, grip truck, wardrobe, Hair/Make-up station etc. So the team did the best they could with the budget they were given.

It was just refreshing, perhaps a little ironic that what's typically referred to as waiting on talent, was really the talent waiting for the crew.

Life's Curve Balls Stink Like... Well, Balls

I had a plan. It was a beautiful plan. Go to Spokane away from all distractions and write. It was simple, clean and everything I needed to be an effective and creative writer.

Then sometimes, life has other plans.

For the first several days, I did not get more than 2 pages written. Because as an independent filmmaking team, we often write our own contracts. They're typically straightforward and to the point of "if you do this we do this and we all agree to this." I think 5 pages might be the longest contract we've ever written with some very specific points of definition in them. It was several days of hashing those out, and to satisfy our investors, we are still working on them, negotiating terms so that our expectation are fully established in ink before we move forward. But the work had to be done.

I got a little more writing and a surprise visit from my husband and daughter for our 4th Wedding Anniversary. It was a beautiful and appreciated relief from all that legal and business jargon I loathe so much. But it was out to the farm very shortly after where I could write, ride, and shoot as needed.

Nope. Family, allergies that kicked my rear and other business to attend to.

I quickly found a way to get myself away from it all with no phone, no email, no nothing but the sweet sound of clickety-clack of my keyboard. I got 30 pages in. I was on FIRE! It was amazing, to know that it wasn't my inability to write through writers block, it was so many distractions I couldn't focus. Glorious day!

Too bad the bed at the lake is so awful I threw out my back. I mean big time. I couldn't walk, was sort of tipped to one side and really the only position remotely comfortable was sitting... for about 5 seconds before I was in pain again. Back to town for some medical evaluations.

It took nearly 4 days, a bottle of anti-inflammatories a chiropractic visit and a massage therapy session to get to a place where sitting/standing/sleeping was not painful. I went back to the lake, alone and prepared to write. I had a day and a half by myself before the family would join me for the 4th. I got 20 pages in.

So now, I'm back in Seattle. Been here a few days with my 50 pages I was able to accomplish in the 4 days I had of actual writing time. Not bad if I do say so myself. Now, for the last 40....

Back Against the Wall, Now WRITE

It's funny how sometimes it takes a moment where you're back is against the wall before you really have to make a change- or choice.

That was us, not very long ago.  Try as we might, we simply could not sustain a constant flow of work. Meaning we'd have a really great month then three where we were pinching penny's.  One month where filmmakers were coming to us will all sorts of ideas (and budgets) and we helped them making the ideas a reality. Then zilch.

Then a very unfortunate situation happened and a client we had been paid our first fee by, who had large ambitions but very little understanding of how the industry worked lost his gumption when he finally realized that he was not going to nail the A-list talent he wanted without throwing down serious cash. The film was abandoned and all the work we had prepared for vanished. Or rather, got filed on a shelf labeled "well that was interesting" to be pulled out an admired anytime we get too big for our britches.

So we're back to having our backs against the wall. Work trickles in or it pours in, there is no in between. Filmmaking is not the glamorous party every night that people imagine it to be.

Then, as if by lighting strike, we both decided that it was time to stop waiting for others to hire us and simply make our own work. Because that's how we started out. We made our own work.

There's been this film, a short that needs to be a much longer film by all accounts everywhere we've taken it. And it's been a few places. Festivals, private screenings, more festivals, and finally settled on IndieFlix where all 6 minutes of glory can be watched again and again for whomever wants to.

A steampunk western. A Short. That should be a feature. Well, alright Universe. Let's get cracking.

Here I am in Spokane, on a "writers retreat" working on the script. Next week I'll be in Rosalia learning how to shoot black powder rifles (think civil war era) and revisiting my horseback skills. But today, Writing.


I'll see you on the flip side.

(to see more as we develop, follow my Twitter + Pinterest + Facebook)

It's a Full Time J-O-B

My typical work day.

Let's get something straight.

What I do for a living is FUN. I enjoy it. If I did not I would work at a law firm and be the best damn office services manager you've ever met. I did that for a long time, working 40 hours a week in the corporate world while I came home and worked another 40 hours on film so that I could keep building my path towards the career I actually wanted.

When my daughter was born, I had to make a change. I didn't have 80 hours a week to devote to two jobs, because 75% of my time was consumed by family obligations. So I left the law firm and made a full-time commitment to working as a freelance filmmaker.

Some people say I'm crazy. How can you do that to your family? It's so unstable. You'll never make a living.

Location scouting on our anniversary with our daughter.

I actually do. It's not a luxury filled living. But it is a living.  I have set rates, and expectations to deliver certain product based on those rates. They vary slightly, from project to project because I'm not unreasonable. I understand that you are a small business just trying to build you brand, so I make an exception and tell you the bare minimum I can work for, typically my overhead cost for living that month. I mean even attorney's will work Pro Bono if the case is a good reflection of the lawyers morals (or it makes them look good to the public, but I digress).

My point is this. Filmmaking is not your typical "day-job." The hours fluctuate. The work is in constant evolution, and the likelihood that you will be booking the next gig while on vacation is high. Workaholic is a common label slapped on us, because we rarely turn off. And to be honest, my vacation is a day I haven't booked where I get to take my daughter to the zoo.

Filmmaking feeds my soul and feeds my family.  It might be a creative, but it's still a job. You wouldn't ask an architect to design you a new home for free. You couldn't justify asking a master carpenter to build you an ornate cabinet out of oak for free. You certainly wouldn't solicit a marketing firm - a HIGHLY CREATIVE JOB- to market your business for free.

So the next time you ask a filmmaker to work for you please consider this: This is not a hobby. This is my J-O-B.

Directing my actor on a short film.

Want to see what I do? Visit our website and take a  look. We make dreams come true.

www.faithvsfateproductions.com