I've been writing for the screen since 1999. I moved from Seattle to Hollywood in November of 2004. Three of my five screenplays are making the rounds.
My latest comedy, FALSE SECURITY, took 2nd place in the WriteSafe.com contest for the third quarter of 2005.
I wrote, produced, and directed a short film titled, Memoir.
I gained representation as a screenwriter in 2006.

That's how I feel since the past 4 years: Like I've been riding one bubble or another and each one has burst in its time.

My bubble-riding coincides with the beginning of this wee-blog way back in May of 2003. No grand bubble-riding plan involved, just happenstance. Perhaps my bubbly-bursting journey will make for a good story one day--it all depends on the ending.

I can't help but notice as I look back at the past four years and even further, that the only endings I have control over are for the stories I write. So many endings so far, so many chapters closed already, and it feels like I had nothing to do with any of them. That's not true of course--I probably had more influence on more endings than I'd care to realize. I mean: Who wants to be intimately involved in the making of a bad ending? The only thing worse (or at least as bad) is waiting for an ending, and especially waiting a long time for one.

I spent a week out of Town 10 days ago. I visited my mother and did some yard work for her, real Farmer John flannel shirt with suspenders kind of work. I was glad to return to SoCali. Washington State is too unrelentingly green. I prefer looking out my window to see a palm tree, a live oak, and eucalyptus all at once. I prefer both flora and fauna that can live in a semi-arid basin as opposed to rain forest.

And so year 4 A.B. leaves me waiting atop yet another bubble over a chasm of uncertain endings. I suppose things could be worse. The bubble hasn't burst yet.

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