I'm Not Steven Spielberg.

There must be thousands of us, if not millions.  We all had the same dream, that one day we could become Steven Spielberg.  Not literally of course, but to become like him.  That's what I wanted more than anything, to be a famous director or producer in Hollywood, making movies, doing the thang.  But for many of us that dream died a long time ago.  For some it was a slow and painfully excruciating death roll that went on and on, turning and turning over and over and over again until it left us a bloody pulp on the side of the road picking gravel out of our foreheads and elbows.


I must say that I have survived that crash several times in my life.  The first crash wasn't so difficult to handle.  I was only five when it happened.  It was the first day of the new school year and I was walking with my dad down the hallway headed for class.  I was in the first grade, and at that time I loved movies and I wanted to know just about everything I could about the process of filmmaking.  So as we walked together, I looked up at him and said, "Dad... I want to be a movie producer."  My dad looked down at me and he smiled.  Then he proceeded to dash my burgeoning dream of movie making into a fine powdery pulp.  Looking back on it, I know he didn't mean to crush my dream right then and there, but he proceeded to tell me all the things I needed to do and everything I needed to have and accomplish before I could EVER hope to become a movie producer.  The biggest hurdle he put in front of me was "MONEY" he said.   "You need money if you want to be a movie producer." And that was exactly the one thing I didn't have.  And at the age of five that is HUGEmongous, so I said to myself, "Well if I can't be a producer, I guess I'll just become a stunt man.  You don't need money to fall down."  However, my dream of becoming a movie producer stayed alive inside, burning like a tiny ember deep in my belly.


The second completely devastating crash was in my first year of college.  I attended Howard University's School of Cinematography.  My first film "A Hand in Art" was a black and white silent film shot and edited all in camera on one 8mm reel, with titles, and special effects.  It was a big success.  I was a hot commodity for about ten seconds, until I went to my first screenwriting class.  I came up with a great idea for a short film, (which I later discovered was done in a new Twilight Zone episode about a year later.  I swear someone ripped me off!)  Although the idea was solid, I discovered, or I should say I was told that my writing was two dimensional, childish, boring and not to mention stupid and badly executed.  And that was the good stuff.  Now this wasn't what my professor told me exactly, but I did get this from practically everyone else who I actually allowed to read it.  (Haters!)  To top it off, my second film was a complete disaster, a literal washout.  It was so overexposed you could barely see it.  Then to add insult to injury, my lead actress/heroine was a young, petite white girl.  But it just so happens that she went out of town before the voiceover dubbing, and I stupidly got my sister to dub in her voice.  Like me, my sister is black, and about a half an inch shy of 6 feet.  Needless to say it was the worst overdub in the history of cinema.  I was laughed out of the building.  KaBOOM!  Once again I crashed and hard.  This one hurt a lot.  I left the Cinematography department immediately after that, never to return again.  I switched over to music, which was my fallback of all things, and I didn't come up for air until about nine YEARS later.  The only reason I resurfaced was because the dream was actually still alive inside.  I lived to create, and that tiny ember had simply refused to go out.

Now all the time I was away, I couldn't stop talking about movies.  It was my favorite subject.  I couldn't get enough.  I studied the craft year after year, taking in everything I could to better myself as a future Spielberg.  I studied lighting and blocking and screenwriting and directing and acting, practically everything I could wrap my mind around without having to actually attend film school or God forbid, actually MAKE a FILM!  But when I finally came back to the camera, I was hungry.  I finally sucked it up and went back to school.  


My return to college life was different this time.  I worked furiously hard and managed to finish early and at the top of my class.  In my final year I also managed to get an internship with Charles Guggenheim, documentary filmmaker extraordinaire and 12 time Oscar nominee.  Things were finally starting to look up.  I worked for Mr. Guggenheim for over a year.  After that, I started out on my own as a freelance producer/director/writer.  I was doing pretty well for once and the path towards finally fulfilling my dream.  But once again, that horrible crashing sound blasted once more through my eardrums.  This time, it came in the form of  9/11.  I live in Washington D.C. and at the time I worked very close to the Pentagon.  But after the explosion and after I witnessed the smoke rise into the atmosphere, I saw everything that I had built, all my freelance work and contacts dry up overnight.  This happened to a lot of companies and good hard working people.  But for me, I'd just gotten married and had a kid on the way.  My wife was pregnant and on bed rest with our first child.  She couldn't work, I had no work, and soon we desperately needed money.  I had a family to support.  So I did what most people would do in this situation.  I got a real job.  My dream appeared to be almost completely dead.  It hadn't happened for me yet, and I wasn't getting any younger.  I lived 3000 miles away from Hollywood so who was I kidding.  Even New York, which is next door was a four hour drive away.  The distance seemed like the Grand Canyon at the time.  But with no money, who's making that trip?  So the fire that burned within me for so long was now finally and completely gone out.


Now it is 2010, and I am 43, a happily married man and father of three wonderful kids.  The job I took after 9/11 I still have now.  I'm a Senior editor for the Defense Media Activity - Anacostia, DoD.  I'm next in line to become a full fledged Television Producer for Uncle Sam.  Sounds exciting huh?  The thing of it is, that while I am content with where I am, making good money, supporting my family, the dream, that memory of an ember that once burned hot has almost fully been extinguished.  However, it is still there somewhere, ebbing and burning inside of me.  But what do I do?  I have a loving wife and a happy family.  I have a real American life.  But my inner Spielberg still calls.  My inner Spielberg still wants to rise, still wants to do great and amazing things.  But I've learned that sometimes you have to know when it's time to let it go.


I am a creative being.  A writer, musician, producer, editor, composer, I do many things.  I live to create.  But my family is now the most important thing in my life and that means sacrifice.  I refuse to be one of those guys that uproot their family and run off to follow their rock star dreams.  I've come to the conclusion that dreams, childhood dreams and fantasies are not set in stone, but must be allowed to evolve and change as you grow.  If they don't, then you'll always end up disappointed and broken.  I made hard decisions in my life that changed my course.  But I have never lost sight of what it is that I actually love to do, and that is to create.  I've realized that that is who I am.  Being a big time producer/director would be great.  But I liken it to wanting to be the next Michael Jordan or LeBron James (who hasn't actually won anything yet by the way.)   And how many of those guys are actually out there?  So I have adapted, and that's okay.  Life happens.  Roll with it.  Now, I only do what I want, work on the projects that I want, and my job pays the bills.  I don't do anything that I am not truly interested in because it's honestly not worth my time.  And time is something I don't have a lot of these days.  I may not be in Hollywood, but I am happy with where I am right now.  So I'm not Steven Spielberg, so what.  But I'm good at what I do.  The path I walk is my path and no one else's.  And I'm okay with that.  


This blog endeavors to chronicle my experiences as a creative being and a family man.  I don't presume to have all the answers, just observations along the way.  Life is not set and the future is always ahead.  Will you come along with me on this journey?  Much Love.