In 2006, I was deep in my indie filmmaker era.
I’ve always wanted to be a writer, but at some point, I traded in my typewriter and screenwriter’s cap for a director’s chair. Instead of crafting pages, I was out in the trenches, making low-budget short films. And out of all the years I spent in the indie grind, 2006 was the wildest.
I still remember that third-grade kid sitting in a classroom at P.S. 160 in Queens, staring at the ceiling like it held the secrets of the universe, and declaring, I’m going to be a writer someday.
Flash forward to 2000. A few Hollywood agencies had read my scripts, but I hadn’t gotten past the dreaded, “It’s not for us” template rejection. Then, Robert Rodriguez burst onto the scene with El Mariachi—the indie underdog who made broke writers believe they could do it too. After reading Rebel Without a Crew for the third time, I caught the fever. I was going to turn one of my scripts into a film.
Reality, of course, had other plans. I couldn’t raise enough money in the one-year deadline I had foolishly given myself. So, I did what any self-respecting, delusional screenwriter would do—I wrote a cheap script about trying to make it in Hollywood. (Cue the eye-roll.) I called it Get Spielberg.
Go ahead, laugh.
I spent a year learning everything—directing, lighting, shooting, editing, producing, and scoring—all on MiniDV. I shot Get Spielberg, and though it was bad (and I mean bad), it was the spark that set everything in motion. It propelled me into a more proactive place in my film career, ultimately leading to two TV pilot development deals with NBC Universal fifteen years later.
But how did I go from a sucky DIY indie film to sitting across from network execs?
I believed in condensing timeframes. I needed to learn fast. So, I took on every challenge.
A 24-hour film festival? I was in.
A short film competition in Burbank? Done.
Sundance, Slamdance, Tribeca, Austin? If there was a festival, I was making a film for it.
I was old-school. Hard work pays off. And yes, mentioning a typewriter definitely shows my age.
By 2006, I was either shooting a film, editing a film, directing a film, writing a film—or threatening to quit filmmaking altogether. I cranked out six short films that year. Newbie composers got their first credits on my productions. Actors got the footage they needed for their reels. And in my circle, I had built a reputation as one of the most relentless low-budget indie filmmakers around.
Then, in 2009, I took a leap and self-funded a six-figure feature-length romantic dramedy, Angelo Bell’s Broken Hearts Club. It aired on independent TV in the U.S., Canada, and Europe. (you can watch it on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z1qazLw7F7M)
I had officially become a rebel without a crew.
But in all the chaos, I had lost sight of that third-grade kid. The one who held an index card in his tiny hands, reading the first line of a story he had to make up on the spot. The kid who went through fifty index cards, created fifty unique stories. That kid had looked up at the sky and thought, Yeah, I’m gonna be a writer.
Somewhere along the way, I got distracted. I chased someone else’s dream instead of my own.
By 2011, I realized I had wandered off course. It was time to get back to writing.
As a child of the ’70s who grew up obsessed with television, I naturally turned to TV.
Now, there’s a line at the end of Jerry Maguire where Tom Cruise’s character says, “I was good in the room.” I was the opposite. I never wanted to be in the room. I wanted to hand over my script and get an email with a decision.
But Hollywood doesn’t work that way.
By the way, I wrote a book called How I Became Good in the Room (Amazon)—a chronicle of my first year working with the Independent Film & Television Alliance and NBC Universal, and how I avoided conference rooms like the plague. But after hearing other writer-producers casually talk about sitting across from NBC’s SVP of Programming, I had to suck it up.
By the end of the program, four years later, my team of awkward, introverted writers had become the most-welcomed first-time series producers at NBC Drama, NBC Comedy, Bravo, Oxygen, USA Network, Esquire TV, E! Entertainment, SyFy, and beyond. None of us were comfortable in the room, but they trusted me to navigate and steer us right.
Looking back at 2006—the year of six short films and nonstop indie hustle—I wonder if I could have found success without that madness. I was off-track, trying to be Tarantino, but that chaotic detour led me right back to where I was meant to be.
Sometimes, a side quest is exactly what you need to get you thinking about the real goal.
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