The light...

Have you ever noticed that, when it comes to mercy, you typically always get only just enough?

Nobody gets fat off mercy.

It typically comes right at the last minute, and in tightly controlled portion sizes.  It doesn't come strong enough that you never have to worry again.  It doesn't ever take all the stress away.  It typically gives you just what you need.

Mercy.

Like the sweetest of kisses leaving you longing for more.

The idea translates nicely to our stories for the screen.  When you need to give your character a break, you should give it to them at the very end of it all and in a way that's surprising and difficult and just enough to help them scrape by.  Don't ever save them all at once or once and for all.

Also, in terms of the way in which mercy infiltrates your preaching, the challenge is to glory in the free gift of it and the unexpectedness of it while still holding on to the idea that we mustn't trespass on it, or assume--in any way--that it's something deserved or due.

Mercy is, by definition, undeserved, a gift.

Something we have no right to expect.

Which is why, when it does show up, it always turns night to day and always leaves us with a scene worth filming,  a message worth preaching and a life worth living.

T

Oh my sweet Lord have mercy...

Sad, sad moment just now.

CNN (and my man Anderson) just interviewed the Director of a new documentary (airing on HBO this Thursday) on Ted Haggard, the former 'super-pastor' who got called out for having a homosexual affair.

His Church kicked him to the curb.

They showed a clip from the documentary with Ted putting 'door hangers' (looking for work) on residences in Arizona.  They showed a UHAUL van he, his wife, and FIVE kids were traveling with, all across the country looking for employment and a new life.

My heart hurts.

Can you imagine his kids?  His wife?  Displaced because of their Dad and his Church.

Oh man.

So sad.

It just occurred to me again how important it is to try and be transparent about your weaknesses, how valuable humility is, and how quick we are to judge others while neglecting to examine ourselves.

And I'm reminded of the importance of being consistent.  Consistent in what you believe and how you act.

Being true to character, as we'd say on-set.

Keeping it real, as we used to say back in the day.

Apparently he's now selling insurance.

I hope he finds peace and happiness.

T

Who am I anyway?

Where my daughter's artwork and I collide...

She made this today.

I just finished cleaning the kitchen and came out to a full-blown 'dance party' going on in the living room.  They just finished listening to 'Sexy Back', then 'Billy Jean', and Elliot Yamin just finished 'Alright'.

Remember Elliot Yamin?  Best male singer ever on Idol?  His album is great.  You should check it.

Back to me and the mask.

So they're dancing.  Daddy grabs the mask, puts it in front of his face, and the mask starts dancing.  Kids laughed at first...

(Whoops, Kanye's "Stronger" just fired up...)

But then, as the mask started head-dipping with Daddy they started to freak out a bit.  Why? Well, 'cause the mask was starting to look like Daddy.

Let that be a warning to all of us.

A mask can be fun, useful, a diversion, an assertion.

But wear a mask too convincingly and for too long and the real person beneath might start to fade.

Here's to keeping it real.

(and fun)

T

Where ideas come from...

So I'm trying to create something from nothing today.

Realizing full-well that the thing I'm looking to create--even if all goes beyond extremely well--won't see the light of day, or a screen near you until I'm 38 years old.

On a good day.

I'm trying to start getting my second feature-film set up.

The film is based on an idea I had.  An idea that I turned into the first twenty pages of a screenplay, back in 2004.  Then, a year or so ago, I started talking with a writer friend about that idea.  Wanted to see if he'd be interested in turning the idea into a full-fledged screenplay.

Well, he did.

And from the above picture--our attempt at an 'Area 51' like vista--you can guess the film will have sci-fi overtones.

It will.  It'll be called HARVEST.

(I'm speaking in faith now, noticed?)

The film will rock.  It will star known actors and be shot mostly in British Columbia.  In-fact, I found some of the northern Canada 'tundra' we're going to use to replace the Siberian sequence my writer-friend ended up putting into the thing, yesterday.

I'm feeling the idea being born on the inside of me.  That urge (like a pimple getting ready to burst) or drive to get a thing done or die trying.

And all of it--from urge to create to urge to pee while watching our movie for the first time--started with an idea, and that idea got better and better (and will eventually come to life) because lots of people poured their heart, soul, mind and effort into the thing.

That's worth noting for you, in your life and work today.

Yes, someone (you or someone else, doesn't really matter...) has to have the first 'vision' of the thing but that vision won't ever come to life until and unless you get a bunch of folks working on it together.

See, if an idea is a really good idea, it can only get better.

So, get your people going on those ideas. 

Nobody makes dreams come true alone.

Nobody.

T

The Giant and the child...

Thought you might like this one.

We'd just pulled up to Stanley Park, the kids had already run off to the climbing gym, I'd just paid for parking and saw this.

I was at least four hundred feet away and was going to shoot the shot just for the tanker, then--as I was focusing--the child walked into frame, going for the fountain.

Fantastic.

Connect the giant to the child.

The giant brings food to the child.  The child's parents buy the food and their money--after some long meandering--finds it's way back to the ship's captain and owner and crew.

They're connected.

Though one dwarfs the other, neither is more or less important.

They both depend on water.  Without it they'd die.

A tanker and a child a mile apart, through the magic of a lens, shown--perhaps--to be not so far apart as we might think.

What connection will you make--friend preacher--as you exegete and apply tomorrow, bending the truth as written through the lens of your study and life experience in the power of the Spirit?

What connection--friend filmmaker--as you frame your shots and tell your story?  What hidden truth will you reveal by bending light and tale together?

How will you live differently tomorrow--dear reader--knowing that each purchase, every choice, changes the World both near to you, and far?

T

Pizza and Movie night...

Another Saturday, another post on the movie we watched last night as a family.

Yes, "MUUU-PPETTTSSS...FRRROOMMM...SPAAAAACE"!

Had to say it that way 'cause it's ingrained in my head from growing up watching 'The Muppet Show' every weekend.

First comment--it's totally amazing the staying power Jim Henson's creations have.  If you factor in 'Sesame Street' and 'The Muppets' I think you could claim that Henson and crew have, by this point, influenced two or three generations.  My kids laugh their guts out to many of the same skits I loved when I was their age.

Talk about your 'evergreen programming'.

Seems to me from watching MFS last night that there are four key things going on that make this, and the other classic Henson stories, relevant, successful, and long-lasting.

1) We love the characters.  Because we love Fozzy so much, his lack of screen-time doesn't really stress us out too much because when he is in the frame he's being classic Fozzy.  Of course, the reason that Fozzy had to take a back seat in MFS is that MFS is Gonzo's story and both Gonzo and Fozzy are typically performed by Frank Oz.  But, each Muppet character has deep resonance with us because we've known them for years.  Translated to TV-land that means you have the great opportunity with producing a 'long narrative' (like 'The Muppet Show') to tell your character's stories over years.  If you don't have that chance, like in moive-land, you need to try and swing the characters a little more towards universal 'types' so that the audience will have enough built-in familiarity with them to make the characters resonate even though your viewers haven't been watching them every saturday morning for most of their lives.

2) The story is simple, and universal.  Gonzo doesn't know who he is because he doesn't know where he's from.  He needs to find his family.  Hence the 'quest' to make contact with his alien brethren.  Naturally, the story climaxes with Gonzo realizing his 'family' has been with him all along.  A simple, universal story that almost everyone can identify with.

3) The movie is 'BIG' meaning it takes us to outer space, inside a top secret government installation and to a beachside rendezvous with extraterrestrial life.  The film is an escapist treat--great production value for what it is.  Every story we tell, we do well to remember to make it 'event programing'.

4) It's funny, in that classically Henson way.  Double entendres, one-liners, jests, jabs and sarcasm, all delivered with love and trusting friendship as the undercurrent.  I've read that if you can make your audience laugh and cry in the same movie you've got a 100 million dollar grosser on your hands.

Strong characters, universal stories, big--escapist--scope, and humor mixed with emotion.

The Henson recipe.

And all of us, whether telling a story at work, or building a sermon for Church, or in crafting a film or a television series--or whether we're just reading C.S Lewis to our kids at night--would do well to inject the essence of those four into our storytelling.

'Cause story matters.  It's our great escape.

T

Eyes open...

I often refer to the idea of living with your eyes (and heart, soul, mind) wide open so that you'll 'catch' those moments in life that are worth noting, storing away, and using--sometime in the future--in one of your sermons or stories.

The parking lot you're looking at is across the street from the hotel I typically stay at when I'm shooting in Vancouver.  I was working late one night and noticed how cool the thing looked all empty and glowing blue in the dark.

I thought it'd be awesome to film a chase in with somebody running for their life.  You could mount the camera outside and film the various levels at once.  We--the audience--would know how close the character was to getting caught 'cause we'd see where her pursuers were even though she couldn't.  Then, when we cut into the space with her, we'd have the delicious double pleasure of fearing for her and with her 'cause we'd be trying to figure out where we (now that we were with her) were in relation to the 'baddies' we'd just seen when our perspective was on the outside.

I took the shot so that I could use it as a reference in the future.

What's interesting about that--taking a shot and storing it away--is the faith that's implied by the act.  My actions (stopping, noticing, thinking, grabbing camera and shooting, storing) demonstrate that I believe (hope) that at some point in the future the shot and the idea behind it are going to prove useful, worthwhile, or fruitful.

In my case--and with this example--that means I actually believe I'll be making a twenty million dollar movie some day that will allow me to see my 'vision' realized through the lives, work, creativity and follow through of a team of technicians, artists, crafts people, executives and--ultimately--viewers.

Crazy right?

Good crazy.

The kind of crazy we all need to be building our lives on if we hope to live a life that's something more than mundane.

What crazy thing are you planning for?

T

Our studio...

That's me, at my desk in our studio (it's a piece of butcher block countertop that I quite like with IKEA desk legs screwed to it) with some of our new art on the wall behind me.  Close up, they look like this...
And this...
And this.
The artist's name is Reine, you can find out more about her here.

Reason I'm blogging on this is twofold.

First I'm amazed and humbled at how nicely our little studio in downtown Vancouver is turning out.  What started as a big white space with too many walls and no 'vibe' to it (I think it was a carpentry shop) has now been turned into (through the efforts of our fantastic staff) an authentic 'black box' studio that's suitable for small television production, small commercial and music video production, small corporate video, and photography work.

To say nothing of the fact that it's also our post-production hub with space for our editors (six of 'em now...) to do their thing.

It's pretty cool.

One of the reasons it's cool (and why I'm so humbled by it all...) is that it's not that long ago that we were a million miles away from having a space like this.  Truth is, we've never had our 'own' space.  We've always thought the day might come and now that it's here, albeit in a very small and simple way, it feels both comfortable (because we've pictured it for so long) and strange because we still feel like this couldn't be.

Which leads to the second reason for today's post.

My family (Mom and Dad are visiting, and Niki brought the kids...) came by the studio today and they were totally impressed with it.  Dad reminded me how faithful the Lord has been to lead us through from two years of 'income free' living (oh sweet baby Jesus...) to this, our own very cool, very chique space right in the heart of Yaletown, Vancouver's coolest neighborhood.  "And..." he continued "Ten years from now, this'll seem like small potatoes to you--you'll see."

Nice of him to say it.  Cool to be able to hear it.  Fantastically strange to be living it.

What's downright scary and glorious about it all is how deeply I've longed for something like this and for how long.  Since my start in show business, nearly sixteen years ago now, I've dreamed of having something like this to work with and in, and from which to deploy a team of talented people to render redemptive story on-screen.

Sixteen years later and we're here.

Naturally, 'here' isn't 'there' which is why I don't feel and would never say that we've 'arrived', it's just a very nice point to have reached along the way.

I really do feel like we're slowly (and in a very small way) becoming one of those examples of people who keep at it and keep at it and keep at it long enough that--eventually--you start making some headway.

So posting to bear witness to some goodness in my life today and to confess I'm deeply moved and humbled by it all and to remind you that this same kind of small progress is probably happening in your life as well as you continue to trudge along pursuing your life less ordinary.

I hope you have a chance to notice the incremental growth and goodness that's happening in your life.  There's a good chance signs of it (growth) are hanging all around you...

Like art.

T

The New President...

Quite the moment just now.  The 44th President of The United States has just been inaugurated.  I cried my way through it, see?

I found (as you might expect) the invocation and benediction to be especially lovely.  President Obama spoke really well--as if you need me to tell you, I'm sure you saw it yourself.

My youngest daughter, Zoe, kept pointing at the screen and saying "Ohm-ba-baah".

Ohm...ba...baah.

Nice moment.

Made me feel like I'd like to fast-track our citizenship application (Niki's Dad's an American now...) so that I can be part of it before eight years are out.

This "Whitey's" gonna' make sure he does what's "Rightey"...

T

The pool of a thousand asses...

I was wishing I was back there today.  Back in our friend's pool in Florida and not in the pool we found ourselves in, this afternoon, in Vancouver.

It was a community pool, and a nice one at that.

But it was filled with the hairs of a thousand asses.

"Eeeww!  Gross!"

Exactly.

Niki and I kept looking at each other in disbelief, wondering why--exactly--we were there, immersing ourselves in water so chemical-treated (and for good reason) you could smell it five hundred feet outside the building.

"Is this really good for us?"

"Why are we doing this?"

"Why are all these people here?"

And then it hit me.

These people are all here--mostly naked in front of dozens and dozens of strangers--because they enjoy being in the company of other human beings.  That's right.  We like each other.  And no, we weren't talking to each other that much--just a casual 'Hello' here or there--but you had to admit that all them folk wouldn't have been there if they didn't want to be there...

(I mean, they could've just stayed home and had a shower, if it was just about water...)

Naked in the company of strangers.

Just like at the movies.  Just like at Church.

Of course we're clothed at AMC or at 1st Baptist, but the hope is to be able to disrobe emotionally or spiritually, is it not?  

We want our emotions laid bare by a story that's so great, so immersive, so escapist, so true and moving and powerful it changes us.  That's what we're looking forward to at the movies or in front of the TV or listening to music or at the symphony or theater.

Church is the same deal.  We want our soul exposed.  We want to experience a deep emotion, a clarion call, a moment that reminds us why we're alive and what our life's supposed to be about.

And we go to the movies and we go to Church together.

It's just not as fun alone.

Remember that in your work and in your Church and with your art.  The thing you do (even if you're just a middle manager at your average company...) at some level is about bringing people together, and people like to be brought together.

So, do it.

Make movies for date night and guys night and girls night and family day.  Design your Church service for Mom and Dad and the kids and the teens and the old folk.  Build your company in such a way that the people you work with love coming to work and love doing what they do...

Together.

'Cause if we can mix our butt hairs, fo' dang sure, we can share our art and our faith.

Right?

T

Obviously...

You gotta' love this, right?

You're looking--close up--at a log that lies on the beach at Stanley Park in Vancouver, Canada. I was staring out to sea earlier today trying to see the freighters (their foghorns booming like fell beasts...) out in the pea soup and, as I was watching the tide come in, I noticed this...

A log.

With 'LOG' written on it.

And I thought, "Cool, I should post that."

Here's why...

Sometimes you should put something obvious in your work.  Sometimes a sermon should just be direct and to the point.  You should hit the nail on the head.  You should just tell the truth, plain and simple.  You should call out the assumptions, prejudices and fears of your audience.

State the obvious.

With a film, it's a bit tougher 'cause it's so easy to crank up the cheese factor if you're not careful, but the thing is it's almost equally easy to come across as trying too hard--like a student filmmaker who thinks he's cool.

If you're over-subtle with it.

So, how do you know when to go 'on the nose', either with your dialogue or the way you've composed the scene visually or with your sound design or with the way you ask your actors to 'play' the scene.

(I mean not 'on the nose' but you know what I mean...)

Here's how I'm thinking about it...

When the scene is doing something big, or significant (like lost tankers finding their way home through a killing fog by foghorn and feel and fluky radar...) maybe pick a small thing in the scene, a look, a piece of the set you highlight in a certain way, a trick you pull with the sonics, and counter-program the significant.

Got it?

Play against the big moment with a simple, elegant, seemingly-obvious detail that only some of your audience will get on the first viewing, but one that--for those who do--enriches the experience immeasurably.

(I used to do the same thing in my sermons all the time--throwing in an untranslated word or a storyline detail connected to the intro that I didn't explain...)

Just and idea.

I'ma try it soon.

T

Some shots...

Funny the things you see if you make it a point to look.  

I was at Stanley Park today with the kids and wandered over to the water's edge for a bit. Looking around me I saw this.  A bottle of Purell tossed on the ground.

And, of course, what's funny about it is that Purell is supposed to 'make things clean' and here it is doing anything but.

Naturally it's not the bottle of Purell's fault.  It did what it was supposed to do.  Cleaned the hands of human who tossed it away.

Turns out the Purell couldn't clean the person's soul.

Clean hands or not, they still did the wrong thing.  Just like we (left to our own devices) almost always do.

Toss things aside, make things dirty, mess the place up.

Which, of course, is where 'forgiveness' comes in. 

We're all in need of it--and we storytellers should lace our stories with it and you normal people should fill your lives with it and extend it to the people you meet.

The people with filthy hands.

'Cause we all need it...

T

Pizza and movie night...

So, last night was "Meet the Robinsons" for pizza and movie night at our place.  

It just hit me that as a TV and Film Producer/Director it would make sense for me to blog on the film we watch every friday night seeing if I can nail down why it worked (or didn't work) for us in the hopes that I might learn something about story, truth, hope and inspiration along the way.

My hope is to make this a regular Saturday post--something you can watch for that hopefully makes a positive impact (in however small a way) on your life and (future) family.

So, "Meet the Robinsons".

A Disney film, one of our favorites, last night was the fourth time we've watched it all the way through as a family.  The story is about a young orphan boy who happens to be a mad genius inventor.  When he finally invents something that 'works'--a memory brain scanner--he finds himself caught up in a conspiracy rooted in the past, present and future as an evil dimwit (the 'bowler hat guy') attempts to steal the invention, pass it off as his own and destroy Louis's (the main character) life attaining World domination in the process.

The heart of 'Meet the Robinsons' is about family, about the need to belong and to be loved. And that's why the film works.  Near the end of the film--as everything is being resolved--I find myself weeping every time, so powerful is the impact of a lost boy finding love at long last.

The film apparently cost (they didn't disclose the budget but 40-80 million is likely) to make and generated $169,332,978 at the Worldwide box office.  Multiply that by the typical 1.23 to get your DVD and TV sales into the mix and you're looking at a $208,279,563 piece of business. So a success by most typical Hollywood standards.

What I got from the film last night was a reminder of how important it is to weave universally applicable themes into your work as a filmmaker, or preacher, or in whatever instances in your life force you to have to be able to tell 'story' to people (friends, family co-workers) in the hopes of motivating them to action.

Universal truth.

Some would quibble at the notion of something that's true in all times and all places for all people--it makes their bum go tight fearing that an "x + y= God" equation is lurking beneath the surface (if there is such a thing as 'Truth' there must be a baseline, reason, or source for it...) but I think you'd be hard pressed to find a child who didn't want to be loved by a parent.

That's why 'Meet the Robinsons' resonates with me and my family.  We feel Louis's need to be loved, we want to see him find love, we feel fear when it looks like it might not happen and great relief when it finally does.

'Meet the Robinsons' reminds me that on the inside I'm very much like that little boy, looking to be loved and to contribute that 'thing' I've been made to do to the benefit of my family, my community and the World at large.

Next time it's 'movie time' at your house I'd recommend the film heartily.

And remember you preachers--inject universal truth and longing into your sermons this Sunday and you'll be doing a better job.

As for the rest of us, look for that truth in your life, you'll find it in the darndest of places sometimes, but keep your eyes, ears and heart peeled and you just might find that comfort you're looking for.

T

On set and depressed about it...

Okay, so maybe I'm not that depressed.  We've only been in Vancouver for nine days so there's little chance that 'seasonal affect disorder' has kicked in that quick.  We've seen the sun for ten minutes of those nine days, so on the other hand...

That first shot you're looking at has my senior editor in the foreground, my DP in the mid-ground, and one of my hosts in the background--seated.  I'm way at the other end of the B.C Lions (Vancouver's pro football club) locker room (about a hundred feet back) with my telephoto lens braced on a garbage can, shooting without a flash.

A little closer now, my DP (Lindsay George) is tweaking the camera because it's sitting on a sixteen foot section of cam-cat dolly track and the center piece was wobbling a bit.  The laundry bin behind her is raised up a foot and a half off the ground so it'll look good in the shot.  The lockers in the background were dressed by us as it's 'off season' right now so when we arrived everything was empty.
Then Russell Greene (Senior Editor) took my camera and snapped this as I was working with Mark Washington (the host) on his next standup.  The funny thing about the stand-ups is that I write them, sometimes weeks, before we shoot and often under extreme time pressure so I don't typically remember what the heck I wrote.  So I'll take a look, read it over for Mark, and often comment that THAT is one smokin' hot monologue.

My crew will look at me and laugh, 'cause I really shouldn't be giving myself unsolicited props like that.

But the thing is, I really am seeing the content as if it's for the first time.

And that's a point worth making for you.

Whatever is it that you do, so long as you maintain a sense of newness in your approach--meaning it seems fresh and cool to you every time you come back to it--chances are you'll be able to keep doing that thing you do at an increasingly high level for so long as you stay enmeshed in that field.

It was like that for me when I was a Church Planter/Preacher.  Every Sunday was a high.  I looked forward to Sunday all week.  I loved every minute of the service on a good night and most of it on an off one.  Not surprisingly, the 'Sunday Experience' was the highlight of my Church's life during my tenure (and there were other spots that weren't as strong as they shouldn't been because I was less turned on about them and therefore less focused on making them great...).  

Same deal with directing on-set, or hosting, or doing a one-on-one interview for me.  I love every minute of it.  Sure it gets stressful and pressure-packed.  Don't matter none.  All these years later--with the accumulated many hundreds of hours on-set I've wracked up--I still get a 'buzz' off of being in a space that's been turned into something worth watching.

I love tweaking the lighting and setting up the shots.  I love working with actors or being one myself.  I love makeup and costume and blocking and verbally jousting with the boom op and waiting in line for lunch.  

I love it.

And that's why it works.

In all my years doing what I do, the 'love' of a thing is the most consistently glaring absence I find in the lives of people who are less than thrilled with their lot.  And on the flip side, someone who clearly 'loves' what they do almost always rises to the top and, regardless of how high-up in the grand scheme of things their 'top' is, they're almost always deeply contented with their lot.

I can't say it enough.  You must fall in love and stay in love with what you've been called to do and you must keep doing that thing, regardless of the cost.

The other option is seasonal affect disorder all year round, in the sunshine or in the fog and, let's face it, nobody really wants to be S.A.D.

T

As long as you've got a kitchen...

(wasn't inspired to blog today, then I saw that I've added new readers in South America and Europe so I thought I'd do it for them...)

Life is pretty simple, right?

You need clothes 'cause unless it's 'time', it's usually good to have your naked body covered to say nothing of the fact that's it's minus 21 degrees in our home town right now.

(nine degrees in Vancouver though...)

You also need somewhere to sleep where, ideally, it's not going to snow or rain on your head. So, typically a roof over the head is a nice thing.  If you have a roof that's going to stay the same for a while, meaning you don't have to move too often, all the better.

And, under that roof, you need to have some way to cook things and something to cook.

You got those covered, chances are, you can build a life.

Same thing with a Church and/or a TV show or a movie.

With a Church, you got to be able to give your people an 'experience' of worship that reminds them that God is alive.  Week in and week out, if you do more than a 'sing song' you'll probably be okay.  Add to that a kids program that's actually fun for the kids in your community so that they don't give their parents a hard time every Sunday when it's time to go to Church and you'll find that your Church probably grows.  And if you actually preach the simple truth with passion and conviction and honesty...

Well then, you can build a Church.

With a TV show it's all about consistently delivering something people want.  A show that takes them away for a half hour or an hour and puts them somewhere (in their heart and mind) 'other' that's nicer, or better, or more interesting, or moving than their normal.  With TV it's all about the 'grind'--being able to churn out episode after episode of 'goodness' on-time, on-budget through working with talented people who've bought into a vision (usually yours) that's got legs.  If you can rise to that challenge...

Well then, you can build a TV series.

With a movie it's all about story at first.  A story that moves, that captivates, that takes you away to a place you want to see brought to life for the screen so that it will connect to the lives of millions of people.  Once you get the story it's all about assembly.  Assembling the money and the people (who get paid with that money...) to turn the thing into reality.  Then it's about being able to do it--being able to work your ass to the bone until it's done.  Then it's about getting the thing to market and stewarding the thing, for seven years or so.  If you're man enough for that...

Well then, you can make yourself a movie.

See, it's not 'complicated'.  A Church needs the power of the Gospel alive in it.  A TV series needs to be comfy like an old sweater.  A movie needs to move.

And a life needs a kitchen.

Do you have what you need?

('cause until you do, chances are, you're just running in circles...)

T

by increments...

Okay, so that's me (yes, it's my blog and I can cry if I want to...) on-set tonight, directing one of my shows.

My senior editor took the shot just as we were starting to roll.

The black thing in the right side of the frame is one of five monitors I'm working with.  The room around me has about twenty people in it.

The studio we're shooting in is 'our' studio.

Yes, we're behind, but not so far behind that I need to kill myself (just yet) and not far enough that I haven't experienced something like it (or worse) before.

All that to say this.

I'm making a little bit of progress.

And for you that means:

1) If you keep at it (whatever 'it' is in your life) you'll eventually start getting better at it and having more success.

If you're not, you might be doing the wrong thing.

2) Life can be nice in the midst of the nasty if you take a second to recognize it.

A film set is not the World's most serene place but if you have the inner sense that it's going to be okay, a sense born of experience and rooted in mercy, you can enjoy even the ups and downs of a high pressure life or situation.

And for many (many) years there was much less 'nice' in my nasty and if and as things got better they only got a little bit better one small step at a time.

So try not to assess your life all at once.  If you take a snapshot of any given moment in time, chances are the picutre's going to look bleak, because you won't notice the little changes that are piling up all the time as you keep moving forward.

It may only be after years and years of living through a fairly intense journey that you begin to notice that it's a little easier than before.

You'll notice that it's getting better.

By increments.

T

picture and sound...

It's just a picture...

But if you could add a story to it, and dramatize that story in a screenplay, and shoot that screenplay with actors on a set, then add sound and music and visual effects to it.

Well then...

You'd have yourself a movie.

I'm writing 25 shows to be shot Sunday/Monday and, on top of that, I have to host a national prime time TV special tomorrow morning and, on top of that, I'm starting to work on setting up a feature-film in between writing breaks AND workshopping ideas for a new TV series at the same time.

This is what I do.

And this is what I'm listening to, today/tonight, as I do it:

Iona's  'Woven Chord'.  

Nine Inch Nails' 'Year Zero'.

and...

Handel's Messiah.

I think Lupe will be next.

'Cause you need a picture (which I've got in my head as I write) and sound.

The rest is detail.

(like the small detail that I've been sitting in this chair for ten straight hours now...)

And if you love hip hop you gotta' peep this.

T

Benjamin Button, Vancity, and risking it all...

So first, lemme' just say, that 'The Curious Case of Benjamin Button' is exquisite.  Yes, you heard me, absolutely, totally...

Exquisite.

I was transported, absorbed, inspired, moved, and challenged to be a better man.  

That's always the highest praise I can give when it comes to ranking a movie's affect on me--does it, or does it not, inspire me to be a better man.

BB did.

So well done Mr. Fincher and Mr. Pitt and Ms. Blanchett and Swinton and the writers, producers, and crew.  Nicely done.  

Inspired me again re: making sure I get to make more movies.

And here I am, speaking of making movies in H'wood(North), back in Vancity, with my wife and babies, staying here...

And the funny thing about it is that, nice as our house is, and it's pretty nice--almost humblingly so--we had a hard time sleeping last night because we felt displaced and lonely.  

My wife had a hard time leaving yesterday.  Bad enough that our next door neighbors kept their two kids home from school to say goodbye and that you could hear them sobbing from down the block as we pulled away, but my brother and his wife and kids decided they'd come to the airport to see us off.

And then their littlest son collapsed on the ground in tears and wailing as we left them at security.  Not a good scene.

So Niki didn't sleep last night, worried about all the people whose lives she's ruining.

Neighbors, Mother, kids, her own...

Then we got to talking it through this morning and here's where we ended up:

Most people (or at least 'many'...) don't ever leave their 'normal' because they end up feeling the way we're feeling.  Feeling displaced, or suffering dislocation, is so hard in the initial stages that we do almost anything to avoid it.  We live in such a way that our day to day life is as normal and expected as possible because that way of living is comfortable, contained, expected, and known.

Once you leave your 'normal' you invite insecurity into your life.

(will we meet friends?  where will we buy groceries?  will the kids like it?  will anyone come see us?  where do you get good coffee?  what's a nice afternoon drive?  can we get ice cream somewhere?  what do you do on the weekend?  is there a mall nearby in case we need to go to American Eagle?)

And facing, and conquering, insecurity is a very tough thing to do.

I requires you to stretch.

Like working out.  You stretch--break down--a muscle in order to make it stronger.

And we realized that many people never 'work out' the borders of their life for the same reason(s) they never 'work out' their bodies.

Because it hurts.

But, it occurred to us as we were showering, if you never force yourself to stretch, if you live your life within a comfortable, normal, zone you end up never achieving the kind of wisdom, or depth that only comes from suffering the stretch.

And, if you're someone who's trying to live for more than just a paycheck, if you're trying to make some kind of 'contribution' to the World around you, if you're leveraging the way you spend the hours of your life to try and make a (positive) impact on the people around you, if you never become a person wiser and richer for the stretching and the suffering you end up short-changing the World.

That's right.

Unless you suffer and stretch you can't give as much back to those you love, those you meet and those you never know that you impact.

You can't really be 'great' at life if you've never suffered, or feared, or lost, or stretched.

So, from this lonely father and his wife to you, here's our vote for stretching this year.

If you're feeling a 'call' to move beyond your 'normal' we suggest you do it.  You, those you love, and the very World you inhabit will be the better for it.

You'll preach better sermons.  You'll make better movies.  You'll build a career that matters and your kids will be proud to call you 'Dad'/'Mom'.

T

I feel a movie coming on...

Bit of a weird/difficult night tonight.

I was supposed to drum for my brother while he led worship at the Church my wife and I planted eight years ago today.  Never mind that I haven't touched a drum set in two years, my brother's back from Israel for a stint, and he asked.

So I said yes.

I arrived outside the Church and prayed silently--real quick--asking for the experience to be a positive one, then I walked in.

Instantly, I felt conflicted.  It's strange to 'belong' somewhere almost completely and yet not belong at all.  The number of hours I spent in that space, the amount of energy and focus expended to create something in that space for the sake of the people who filled it, well, neither can be counted.

It was difficult, walking up.

Then I found out they didn't have my cymbals.

That's right, 'my' cymbals.  Mine because I bought them and left them there, three years ago, after I finished drumming for the last time.  I remember that I almost took them--I had bought them with my own, personal, money after all--but decided at the last second to leave them for the 'next' drummer to sit down in my baby Church and kick it.

So when I found out the cymbals weren't there I started to feel sick.

My brother arrived and asked around a bit, hoping that some of the 'young folk' (University students) might show some moxy and find us some cymbals.  Fifteen minutes later and no cymbals in sight, I hugged my brother and left.

Drove home.  Called my wife.  Felt a bit sad...

(and here's where we turn the corner) 

And decided to take this 'moment' as a lesson, as an opportunity to grow, to trust, to believe.

Believe that God was working things together for good for all those involved.

It's tough sometimes, making that decision.

Anyway, I made it and went about the rest of my night, then a few minutes ago my brother called.  Told me he'd reminded the Church it was their eight year anniversary.  Told me they'd been happy to be reminded of that.  Told me they responded really well to his leading them in worship.  Thanked me for making the 'fruitless' drive.

And I walked downstairs, raised a glass with my wife, and clinked to a Church that's still going, eight years later.

That's a good thing.

And now, for the 'movie' part of this post.

The above shot is the first storyboard from the pre-viz work we did for my first film, 'THE STORM'.  I retired from my Church, three years ago tonight, to take the leap into spending my focus and time doing my work as a communicator in show business.  I retired Jan 2006 and spent Feb/Mar 2006 directing that first wee film.

That storyboard never got shot, but the film still starts with 'tNtFILMS presents...' and where once there was only an idea, today there's a completed film and a contract that's in-process that I can't talk about just yet but should be able to within the month.

Once an idea, today a Church.  Once an idea, now a film.

And I feel another one coming on.

No, not a Church.  A movie.

I've got the 'itch'.  You know, that thing that starts to bug you that you can neither control nor arrest.  That urge to work for two or three years to bring a thing to life that will hopefully connect with and inspire a large group of people.

The urge to make a movie.

I think this will be the year we set the next one up.

I'm looking forward to it.

'Cause even though you sometimes drive downtown to drum for nothing or create a storyboard and a shot list for nothing or spend what feels like a useless season pursuing a dream that doesn't come true...

It's never for nothing.

T

The year that was and the the year that will be...

So happy new year friends.

Hope you had a wonderful go of it night before last and that you're looking forward to what's in store with the 363 days that remain ahead of us.

I spent some time New Years day going through my photos from 2008 trying to find some that encapsulated the year that was and the year that I hope will be.

Here's the first one...

You're looking at the wreckage of episodes 1-20.  One of the two TV series I ended up producing in 2008 was a five-days-a-week show which meant that I (we) had to produce 260 episodes.

Two hundred and sixty.

Not done yet either.  The contract will run out in May, but it feels like 2008 was the year of 260.  On top of that I had another 104 half hours to deliver on our second series.  So that's, what, three hundred and sixty four half hours of original television to be produced.

Getting the first twenty shows done was a near death experience.  It's always like that, getting started.  You're figuring everything out from scratch and it takes five times longer than you expected and half way through you start wishing you were...

 

Here

That's right.  At the beach, in the water with my babies, getting ready to catch a wave.

So here's the thing.  

You can't get there (the beach) without going through here (the editing maelstrom).  That's the way it is with show biz and that's the way it is with life.  But you mustn't think of it in terms of 'suffering' so that you can 'play'.

'Cause that way you're hating your work, counting the hours 'till you're 'free' and that's no way to live now is it?

So the thing that hit me as I was pulling the photos was this.

I love editing, and though I find the 'right in the midst of it' as tough as the next person, once I'm clear of it and the end-product is doing what I'd hoped it'd do and is building career momentum I feel almost totally good about it.  And if I allow myself a moment to be totally objective and honest I can say that I love my job, even the maelstrom-ey parts of it.

And I love the beach, and I love my babies.

So I'm happy to keep fighting my way through (and a fight it is bound to be) and while I fight I am determined to enjoy both the fight and the promise of fun in the midst of and on the other side of the fight.

Like today--I was working on our 2009-2010 budget--and though said budget is FORTY TIMES the budget we were wrestling with when we first started out, we are still having to wrestle with it.  Strange right?  'Cause we always think we're going to 'arrive' and not have to fight or wrestle or stress or persevere.

My business partner likes to remind me of a scene in the special features to 'Pirates of the Caribbean II' where the principals (Producer, Director, etc...) were pacing a rooftop on-location facing the impossible task of cutting twenty five million dollars from their budget.

Can you imagine?

One of the biggest film franchises in history and they're having the WRESTLE with the budget.

"Yeah hi.  This is Mark at the studio.  I just talked to Barry and he needs you to cut twenty five.  No.  Million.  Twenty five million.  We need the revised budget Monday."

--Click--

The struggle never goes.

So you might as well learn to love the struggle and be sure to truly relish those moments in the waves when they come 'cause you couldn't afford to take your babies to the waves if it weren't for the struggle and the struggle's not going anywhere but, luckily, neither is the ocean.

It's hard and it's lovely this thing called life.

So buck up (Todd, and all my friendly readers...) and keep at it and enjoy it 'cause this is as good as it gets.

Here's to 2009!

T