What makes someone a writer/director?
I grew up in a family of 6 children. No, we weren’t Catholic, my dad just loved my mom very much … obviously. We moved from Indiana to Illinois to Kansas to New Jersey to Arizona to San Francisco to Washington D.C. to Chicago in 17 years, about 3 years in each city. My dad was a financial advisor making as low as $20,000 a year in the beginning and was a heralded director of stock exchanges when he retired. We didn’t grow up “poor,” but I was aware that we could not afford what my friends owned or wore. We still had a blast, and are to this day a very kind and loving family I think due to our moving frequently to new cites as my father climbed the ladder to success. With both my parents outstanding writers (my Mom wrote an essay “What My Country Means To Me” that won a National Contest) the kids were required to write an essay once a week, which is the core of my writing talent. All children had several chores, and this taught me to always be proud of a job well done. I got my first jobs in the 5th grade, moving lawns for neighbors, and quickly became garden landscapers. Because I loved spending money, I began delivering newspapers in the morning at age 13, to add to a full weekend schedule of mowing lawns. I got a sweet-ass job at age 16 as a garbage man on the weekends, which was over by 10 a.m. and netted me $200 a week – a fortune. I was on the crew that landscaped the new Montgomery Mall with my brother, Greg. We’d be digging in plants, then look down to see we were covered with a thousand black ants. Too shy to strip in public, we’d run to the first unlocked car and strip. Ants everywhere! Our favorite lunch pastime was watching that family come back to the car, start off … and in about 100 feet skid to a stop while every jumped out slapping their ant-covered body frantically. Nothing is funnier when you’re 16.
“A mind stretched by a new idea
never regains its original dimensions.”
Backtracking … when I was 11, I was getting into a lot of trouble. But didn’t seem to mind getting caught and punished. And, I was also daring to do insane things, tempting fate by swimming in dangerous locks for the canals, climbing trees and jumping, and many times ending up in the hospital. And didn’t seem to mind. Getting sewn together, or setting a broken bone, was so frequent, that the insurance company sent someone to the house to see if I was a faker. So at age 11, my parents took me to a psychiatrist. I was mildly amused when my parents worried aloud that I wasn’t associating my actions with pain or punishment, and wondered if maybe I was retarded. I mean, I had no problem facing punishment for what I did, and was happy moments later. Like … well … a nut-case. Gag! My parents think I’m retarded. A few weeks later, this shrink tells them, “No, he simply has figured out that experiences are all that matter. And he doesn’t seem to be afraid of anything, which … can be a problem.”
My big adventures (problems) started after I moved to San Francisco. I lived there during the latter part of the hippy days (yeah, I know, it’s still the hippy days there.) I’m talking the 70’s. Pot, L.S.D., Easy Rider – just a few years after the summer of love. I went to the last two days of Fillmore West, but don’t remember it all, someone slipped me some drug, a good one. I hitchhiked everywhere, took a lot of chances, mini-biked for hours, and was always on the brink of some kind of trouble. Question authority, like all artists should.
“The foremost obligation of any artist is to seek -- and tell -- the truth,
through his or her medium. It is not to buckle to what is “nice” or
“politically correct.” That is why
artists are the first to be
killed in a totalitarian overthrow.”
When I moved from the coolest place on the planet to Washington D.C. – possibly the most uptight with Nixon in the White House and the Vietnam War protests – I had to escape. So starting in 10th grade, when I was 15 and 8 months, I saved all my money to travel solo. I flew to San Francisco, to stay with friends, but ended up hitchhiking to Tahoe for fun. My big year for adventure and travel began at16. I flew to San Diego, and then hitchhiked from Mexico to Canada, up to Tahoe, and across country. I met all kinds of trouble and saviors. And, being 16, hot girls were the ultimate goal, with contests set up on who among us could kiss 50 girls. I ditched the police a few times. But actually, I would get into less trouble on the road alone than home and bored. I repeated this at 17. By 18 I had hitchhiked Mexico to Canada three times, cross country three times, and was generally fearless.
“What inspires me also consumes me.”
It was on one trip to Mexico I got my first chance to save a life. Three girls were drowning in the rip current near K-78. Two were pulled back in, one was lost. I learned then that if you don’t make a smart move fast, people die. So from then on, I was proactive when someone was dying. I saved a few lives since then. Car crash bleeding victims, seizure victims who stop breathing – one in the D.M.V. which put a new low on that D.M.V. experience because he was a stinky drunk Mexican who puked all over himself while I gave C.P.R. Regrettably, at age 19, I lost one I kept alive 20 minutes through C.P.R.. A heart attack victim on a tennis court. There was a wait for the tennis court, and in the back of my mind I figured I’d get that court if he lives or dies … but playing around the body was a real handicap, I lost pretty badly. One thing about dying people -- it’s never hot young chicks. It’s always old men or women. Damn!
“Moral indignity is jealousy with a halo.”
But my biggest save of all is pretty simple and seen by only a few. (Yes, the hero image does inspire you to bravery if you let it.) I was in a mid-day college class in Eugene Oregon, and suddenly felt very sick, which never happens to me. I had to leave immediately and take a bus home. Two busses. I sat in the back of the last one. Across from the deep exit well for the back. And closed my eyes. I barely opened them when a mom and her 1 1/2 year old kid sat across from me. I rode with my eyes closed a few stops. Then, for no reason, I popped them open. The bus was stopped, and the back door was open. The baby had stood up, the mom was digging in her purse, unaware. The bus revved its engine. I had a sudden realization – the baby would drop 6 feet and fly out the open door onto the sidewalk! In an animal impulse, I dove, just as the bus lurched forward and the baby toppled over the hand rest. I flew head first into the stairwell with my arms up to catch him, and hit hard on my back and head. But the baby never touched a thing by my hands. The mom screamed, the baby cried. In that instant I wasn’t sick any more. Bruised horribly, but, not sick. I got sick for that reason – to get on that bus. My best savior story. Now, next time, could it be a hot Asian chick please?
“In the fields of hell,
Where the grass grows high,
Are the graves of dreams,
Allowed to die.”
I learned to drive at age 14 by sneaking out for two days with my sister’s Datsun, a stick shift in the San Francisco hills, we all but burned out the clutch, and ended up off the road more than once. But that began a lifetime of rebellious high speed driving. At age 15 we moved to Maryland, and I lied to my new school to get my driver’s license a year early. My rep for driving late at night in my parents’ cars already spread. The instructor on our first day got in, and looked at me and said, “I hear you can get me to Gaithersburg and back in less than 45 minutes. I need to pick up my television set.” He went on to tell me that if I get pulled over, just to tell the cop that I panicked and floored it and would not listen to my teacher. He barely flinched on that drive, and said I was ready to graduate. A hundred ten miles an hour in a station wagon without blinking was the norm, with drifting to make the corners. Our first Mercedes was brought home with a smoking engine once a week. In true Fast and Furious style, I outran or ditched over a dozen cops before they got helicopter assistance in nothing more than a Subaru or Alfa Romeo. My favorite speed record is Walnut Creek to LAX airport in 3 hours, 50 minutes, racing against a dangerously sexy girl in a tuned Honda – and that included two stops for gas and a quick lunch for both of us. To this day, only the few of the best drifters or hardcore racers can beat me … and my car is a hell of a lot nicer.
“Mediocrity is self-inflicted.”
My dad – the most wonderful father and respectable man I’ve ever known – ended up in the commodities stock market world, running the Mid-America Commodities Exchange for many years. His reputation as being incorruptible led to a very generous multi-column story on him in the Wall Street Journal when he retired. I could not go into his work without someone pulling me aside and saying, “You have no idea how much of an honor it is for me to work for your father.” I’d nod, and then tell my dad that person’s a kiss-ass. Not really, he deserved all his praise and idol status.
“The greatest thing a human soul ever does in this world
is to see something and tell what it saw in a plain way.
Hundreds of people can talk for one
Who can think, but thousands can
Think for one who can see.
To see clearly is
All in one.”
In high school my dad bought a used Nikkormat 35mm camera, a fully manual camera. Kodak Instamatics and Brownie Polaroid cameras were the only alternatives. Photography became my primary hobby. Only 16, I began taking portrait pictures of friends and my sister, lifestyle pictures of my dog, and artistic pictures of my friends and travels. I mastered the darkroom. In college, I made a few hundred selling pictures, and considered becoming a pro photographer until I learned they made almost no money back then. What I learned about focus, depth of field, film stock, composition, lighting, and formatting set the stage for film cinematography. I blew through the Panavision Cinematography Courses easily, and visualize the cinematography in my scenes as I write them.
“Life is not measured by the breaths we take,
but by the moments that leave us breathless.”
Someone with my “challenge authority” attitude had to get in some serious trouble before I straightened up, and it came in the form of a drug bust. But, it stopped me from partying, and I started my first business at age 20 to stay clean of my friends. It was a catering business.
Breakfast In Bed Catering was driven by myself and Ric St. John, my partner – two guys who had little self-control when it came to overspending to make a culinary point. We never made a ton of money like simpler companies that just did 1,000 person weddings. We instead wanted to be ahead of the imaginations of other chefs. We were the first chefs to fly in strawberries from New Zealand in winter to surprise our clients. That is ho-hum now, but in the 1980’s only the finest chefs in New York or Europe did that. We made our own pates and carpaccio’s, brought Thai shrimp to Oregon, and served by far the best Eggs Benedict anyone ever ate. But our big chance came when we were hired to cater rock and roll backstage and after parties. We hired the girls we dated – and soon our reputation for bringing a dozen gorgeous college girls to serve food spread nationwide. For three years, we were backstage, doing flambes and opening Dom for Van Halen, Fleetwood Mac, Sting, The Commodores, Devo – every major group that toured the Northwest. We made a ton of money for college boys, but burned out in 7 years and we both left the world of food behind.
To say that I started a catering company is an understatement. At age 19, I became obsessed with creating fine food. I did not have the limits set in my mind that a person gets after going through chef school, where they teach you to think first of profits and kitchen stability before raw creativity. The ideas I had for creating food were so far ahead of their time. I was so outstanding that I was asked to be on television morning talk shows twice, was asked to host Esprit d Cuisine Week in San Francisco, was contacted by James Beard because our menus were so similar for the Northwest Culinary Faire – all this from a chef only 23 years old. I wrote a book on food at 25, which did not sell and was kind of wacky, but, it holds 250 fantastic recipes, many of them true originals. The rest, stolen, like all great chefs. I can cook just about anything you desire, with the exception of very exotic foods.
People often make statements about our words coming from God, or some other sublime source. I can give credit at least to the collective human consciousness, for my belief right now is that God or any entity like him, if he exists, in a byproduct of people believing he exists. But like many writers, I am not a “religious” man as it is defined by society.
“All awareness and elements of life evolve:
therefore, I believe the concept of enlightenment, God,
Jesus, Buddha, and the ‘reality’ of all religions has been evolving also.
What we preach now as our major religions may have
presented sublime truth
And expanded our minds when they originated,
But the industry of religion has frozen it to
The timing of its discovery and scriptures.
Dogma, absolutes, fears, and tragically dated rules have ‘become’ salvation.
Religion forced us to ignore the concept of spiritual ascension
And expanding sublime awareness as it relates to
Their “truths” … and for that reason, I cannot
Fully embrace any religion.
It is my belief that,
Religion is for those who
Seek heaven, while …
Spirituality is for
Those who have gone through hell.
The human mind, heart, and soul
Were designed to evolve unchained – in four dimensions – in
Scientific and spiritual directions.”
During catering, I hooked up with a model, and went on a shoot with her. I was asked to stand in to complete a model pic. That started my modeling career, that led me to Chicago. I was a decent All-American model type, but would never be big time. Still, I worked twice or three times a week. Then one day, I was asked to go on a television commercial audition. I got it. And got my next one. And got my fourth one, which was a national Calvin Klein 4th of July Commercial. That got me S.A.G.-ed, and sent me to Los Angeles. Never having any acting lessons, and not really into acting, I went to Central Casting for background work. Then, it was all union, and you could make over a grand a week. Within 7 weeks, I was asked to do a few S.A.G. roles, upgrades, stand in work on The Paper Chase, and several other gigs that led to good income from acting. My first, second, and fifth roles were heavy duty kissing roles. I did a few stunts, several driving ones in movies where they were trying to get around stunt pay, and asked Central who would drive fast. From it, I got to make out with Sue Bowser, one of David Lee Roth’s California Girls, during a stunt I drove. And there is a hilarious story about driving a Jeep in an alien low-budget war scene, naked from the waste down because the suit was too hot, and getting caught on one camera. Luckily, the alien helmets were all the same and the director could not prove which of a dozen Jeeps the culprit was in. But, even with all that rebellion, I was cold on acting. Then, I read a script one day on L.A. Law, and knew I was destined to write.
“We don’t cure something until it’s a money maker.
Men cured impotence with Viagra in a few years.
How important to the world is it compared to
We hear conversations from old men,
“Son, Tommy’s got M.S. and can’t get up –
BUT I CAN!”
My first scripts were pretty common storylines. Then, I got some advice from the old lady who ran the library at the Writers’ Guild. She handed me her ten favorite scripts. They included Body Heat, Butch Cassidy, Taxi Driver, Indiana Jones, and a few other legendary scripts. My very next script reflected a new writer emerging. It was called Future Tense, a sexy thriller like Basic Instinct set in the stock market world. I sent out twenty copies, and only got one call back. And it was from the one person I thought least likely to respond. It was Tom Strickler, then at C.A.A. and soon to be the head of Endeavor. I’ll never forget how stunned I was that it wasn’t even his assistant, it was him! He told me, “Hey, I can’t rep you because you’ve got no credits, but … you are one hell of a good writer. Stay with it, and some day I will rep you.”
My next script, Supertanker, sold over a weekend as an option to Silver Pictures, possibly as Die Hard 3!
That began a decade of writing during which I had several options, and several assignments, but something always happened that killed the movie. I was hired to write a huge mini-series for a Cable, then it was bought by Blockbuster and it was canceled. Don Simpson called me in after Simpson-Bruckheimer read CATAPULT. Don was looking for a writer who could do an intense sexy thriller. He asked the magic questions: do I know anything about call girls, and, do I know anything about Washington politics. Well, some of my girl friends were regular suppliers to Don’s call girl lust, so that was a slam dunk. And my dad advised two Presidents. We started writing Power Play. The day it was done, he got it, and two days later, Don died of an overdose. I waited the mandatory 24 hours before calling the production office. I did not even have time to ask the question – one they had been answering all day – they told me that any project of Don’s was dead with him. Hollywood.
“We are constantly surrounded by the
neverending ‘WOW’ of life, of
moments that are flabbergasted at being
in each others’ company.”
I got a few false starts to mega-bucks. They thought SUPERTANKER was going to be Die Hard 3. Wasn’t. BLOOD, SWEAT, AND GOLD was going to star Sean Connery. Didn’t. HARD KNOX was the big even movie about tornadoes until TWISTER was announced and it was put into turn around.
At that time, my agent was Gersch. Good botique agency. My personal agent, Jim Lefkowistz, was picked up by C.A.A., and he told me, “Scott, you should direct. You’ve got great scripts, all they need is a director. Take some of your money, do a short.” I did BOXING GOD, which was 14 minutes of seeing what drives us to create. Then I started something that could have been Industry Suicide … I let myself appear alone and desperate … by putting an ad in the Hollywood Reporter as a freelance script writer.
It was the best thing for me to do. In the five years of its running, I have been hired to write many stories into scripts. I’ve ghost written for more successful writers and did not mind that I did not get credit. I learned an amazing amount about what it takes to work with difficult Indie producers or the owners of stories. I worked harder than any writer in Hollywood, often times writing a script a month for seven or eight months straight. I would sit down in the morning and not let myself get up until I wrote 5 pages. Then I would do it again at night. I’d trim them, and be left with 7 or 8. If I had to throw away a segment, I would, in favor of better work. I wrote every day for several years, with not more than a dozen days off. It forced me to deeper levels of creativity. It taught me the discipline of art. And, though only a few of the scripts have been produced, several of them beat out thousands of competing scripts in the best Screenplay Contests in Hollywood, including: Scriptapalooza, ScriptPimp, Sundance Women in Film, and Slamdance.
I also learned to be an awesome pitch man for my ideas. There is an art to this. I learned it by attending Screenwriter’s Expo, and Fade In Writers Expo, and having to pitch all these scripts to dozens of people. You must master the pitch! As proof, a few times, I heard praises the moment I finished my first pitch. They may not buy it, but their reaction was direct. One producer slapped his palm on the table hard enough for people in the room to twist necks to look at him as he exclaimed, “THAT’S how you pitch! This guy “gets’ it!” I’d get meetings all over the place after those Expo’s, though no purchases, a lot of open doors.
“What human characteristic is more responsible
For limiting us or preventing us
From reaching new dreams?
FEAR … or LAZINESS?”
Here’s my 411 on pitching. First, you say the title, clearly, if it’s present day, and what genre. You immediately follow that with the “premise” of the movie, which is something like “Don’t be who you are” for my movie ATM about a guy lying his way through his 10 year class reunion. This premise must apply to all the scenes and characters. Then launch into a highly energetic, charismatic opening of the first scene! Get in and out of it without too much detail. Set up the beginning of the film. Then, talk about the lead characters, and why we follow them and care about them, in less than 10 sentences. Once you see they relate to the lead, and understand how the premise causes his journey, then you hit them with two of the best set pieces. Make sure that in those set pieces, they see the movie trailer would jump off the screen and make people say they have got to see this movie! Add in a few other teaser moments, and then close by explaining, in no more than two sentences, what this movie is about. That is different than the premise. “Don’t be who you are,” leads to what the movie is about, like, “Once a leader, always a leader.” That is not applied to all scenes, so it’s not the premise. It’s what you discover at the end of the movie looking back at it. 12 ANGRY MEN is about “listen.” FORREST GUMP is about “surrender to fate.” But these are not the premise, and not the plot or theme. “Life is a box of chocolates,” is the theme. But every scene does not point to that. It is just the overall feel of the scenes by the end. Got it? Big high concepts are easier to pitch than simple relationship movies. Easier to sell, too.
“All the joys of life
dwell from whence its
tragedies also spring.”
So now, as you can see from this site, I’ve directed a few things, some of them winning awards. Most of them are a bit off of mainstream ideas. BOXING GOD is artsy and philosophical. CRACK WHORE DODGE BALL is just plain old anti-P.C. tasteless humor. THE VIOLENT KIND is about violent nuns who go out in a blaze of glory. SAM N’ ELLA’S was a very quirky sitcom about a dangerously mean waiting staff in a restaurant. The first project I had a decent budget for and full creative control was PLAYING SOLITAIRE, which is a twisted revenge story. It won the awards, proving I’m a director with a unique and compelling vision, when given the freedom to show it. So, now I’m leaning more toward directing my mainstream scripts. Like CATAPULT, or I TOLD THE WITCHDOCTOR, and of course, my favorite, EYE CANDY. And, CLUB FIJI, though complicated due to the fact it filmed in Fiji, is really a mainstream sitcom, like FRIENDS.
“When top minds are asked why an alien civilization
capable of space travel would even desire
to come to Earth, they all agree, it is to witness
the human condition of “love” …
which might be unique
in a universe most likely
populated with insects on the lower
conscious levels, or beings so superior that
they have transcended our definition and
experience of love. To them, human
love would be a nostalgic wonder and
springboard to all things great to them.”
Now, while all this above was happening, something entered my life to satisfy my wild and dangerous streak. Over Thanksgiving of 2002, I got the brilliant notion to bring aide to orphans in Vietnam. I’d always been curious about the country. And wanted to help orphans partly because my dad is an orphan. I tried going through the Vietnam Consulate or Red Cross to link up with them, but found out they just want my money, and that a fraction of it gets to the kids. So, I’m doing it alone. I like it that way, it was a bit dangerous, so, I went for it. I got 90 pounds of medical equipment stuffed into a huge suitcase, and flew off with thousands in cash and an ATM card good for another seven grand. How this all went down is in another chapter on this Biography, but, it was not without surprises and fun. The greatest thing to come out of it is I met and unofficially adopted my lovable daughter, Ngan No, in Saigon.
This constant returning to Saigon (yeah, I know it’s called Ho Chi Minh City, but if you go there, most who love the city call it Saigon) led me to learn a lot about their culture and people. They are my favorite Asian country. People ask me why I prefer going to Asia now, and I tell them why. If I go to Europe, it’s so much like America you can sleepwalk through your day and get alone okay. But in Asia, where there is no way in hell you can read the language, and no way to understand it, and customs are incredibly unfamiliar … it forces you to return to using all your senses to be welcomed among the locals. I watch nuances and gestures, I try foods and take chances, I doubt my own customs and beliefs. I expand my reality into the complete unknown. I strip myself of my rituals and politics. Now I am ready to grow. To learn from others rather than keep impressing myself with what I already know. I become helpless, yet am very free to ensure my success. It’s a challenge. At times, I think what I try to do in orphanages in insufferable heat is impossible. But that is why I love it, and why it’s something that I “should” do. Because … it makes sense of all the extreme experiences that happened to me when I was younger. I mean by that … right here is the reason why all that tough crap, and all those wonderful highs -- and all that danger and travel and counting only on your own survival reflexes -- happened to me. So I could put it on the line in the name of bringing food and medicine and computers to orphans. It’s like a mask of a reason that is widely praised, but happens to include my need to always be trying the impossible (and sometimes dangerous.)
“Even slow catastrophies
pass quite quickly, too.”
It made me a better writer because I better understand what motivates people in unusual situations. It made me a director with confidence and vision. It made me a producer who knows which battle to fight, and how to win the important ones, and keep focused on achieving the big goal.
I scour a variety of magazines (Scientific American, Soldier of Fortune, Maxim, Discover, Juxtaposed) to fuel my imagination for new scripts. From them I come up with ‘feasible’ concepts. In FURIOUS ANGELS I came up with Quantum Code (unbreakable code written a few seconds into the future) to protect the future of the Internet. This spawned from my fascination with time, for I believe that the true measure of reality is not space (what we perceive as really having substance) but time, which, when it’s many doors are unlocked, offers us limitless realities. One imagined reality revolves around solving the problem of cancer. From the discovery that a virus illuminates a jellyfish in the Asian Pacific ocean depths, that means that cancer cells could be capable of organized goals. Therefore, while cancer might never be cured, it can be communicated with, not with words, but with pulses of lights or electric stimulation. Tell cancer that if it grows too big it kills the host and ultimately itself. Teach one batch of cancer cells to ‘think’ and through a cell splice, they will spread the idea to all others. Just a theory that comes from open-minded research and extrapolation of coincidences. Likewise, the discovery that matter no longer is a constant (atoms vanish to someplace else for nano-seconds) is a breakthrough in the debate that time is not a constant or absolute rule. We’re talking time travel. The point of this for all writers and actors is – OPEN YOUR MIND. Runaway creativity and hyperactive imagination outside your insignificant daily arenas are your fuels.
“You can cut the flowers,
but you cannot hold back the spring.”
Ultimately, an artists work should not only enlighten those who experience what is created, it should help to answer the timeless questions that are the basis of philosophical storytelling and even movies. Who am I? Why am I here? What future awaits me?
If I had to limit a definition of myself and why I create …
An awareness, and a questioning, of the essence of time has been with me since I could contemplate such thoughts … about age 12, and it fully developed by age 18 into a fascination.
All pursuits that I devote serious energy and focus on have revolved around “creating.”
I am drawn to creating, or delivering projects, that push new boundaries in their respective art forms. It was that way in photography, a few years later as a chef in the world of food, then on to writing, and now in the ultimate medium for storytelling … directing a movie.
THE VIOLENT KIND (Feature) Director/Writer/Producer
(note: The Violent Kind integrated animation with live action for the fight scenes)
PLAYING SOLITAIRE (35mm) Director/Writer/Producer
(WINNER: BEST OF LAS VEGAS FILM FESTIVAL, BEST ACTRESS)
(WINNER: BEST DIRECTOR, L.A. AND NEW YORK FILM FESTIVALS)
CLUB FIJI Director/Writer/Producer
(NEW TELEVISION PILOT, SHOT IN FIJI)
CRACK WHORE DODGE BALL (T.V. Comedy) Director/Writer/Producer
HIGH ROLLERS (T.V. Magazine Show) Director/Writer
SAM N' ELLA'S (T.V. Sitcom Pilot) Writer/Producer/Co-Director/Creator
BOXING GOD (Short Film) Director/Writer/Producer
LIPS (Music Video) Director/Writer/Producer
SAIGON VIDEO Director/Writer/Producer
VIOLENT KIND (Feature Film) High Definition, with Award Winning D.P.
PLAYING SOLITAIRE 35mm Film
SAM N' ELLA'S (Sitcom Pilot) First 3 Camera Sitcom Pilot Shot In High Definition
URBAN EXTREME (Comedy) High Definition, with Award Winning D.P.
BOXING GOD (Short) 16mm Film
KAILA YU VIDEO Digital
RUNNER UP SCRIPTAPALOOZA SCREENWRITING CONTEST 2002!
(3,221 entries, winning put my script in the highest 1/30th of 1%)
TWO-TIME SEMI FINALIST SCRIPTAPALOOZA SCREENWRITING 2003!
(3,000+ entries, semi-finalist beating 2,500 of them) CATAPULT, NEWMARKET
SEMI-FINALIST, TELEVISION ORIGINAL PILOT CONTEST, 2003
FINALIST, SCRIPT P.I.M.P. CONTEST, 2005
CLUB FIJI Producted Television Pilot
THE VIOLENT KIND Produced Feature Film
SAM N' ELLA'S Produced Sitcom Pilot
URBAN EXTREME Produced Comedy Show
BOXING GOD Produced Short Film
HIGH ROLLERS Produced T.V. Pilot/Magazine Show Format
PLAYING SOLITAIRE Produced 34 min./35 mm Film
(Multiple Award Winner)
HARD KNOX Feature Film/Paramount Studios
(Academy Award Winning Producers)
SUPERTANKER Feature Film/Silver Pictures/Warner Brothers
ADDICTED TO LOVE Feature Film/Tri-Star Pictures
UNTITLED Feature Film/Jeanne Claude Van Damme/Warners
First Draft of his film The Quest