I moved to Los Angeles in 1992 to be a filmmaker. I did it. I got my wunderkind moment in 1997 at South by Southwest premiering my first feature, Other American Fables.

And then... Life. My brother died shortly thereafter. Followed by my mom, my dad, my brother-in-law. I was pegged as the son that could manage our family’s dissolution. Glad to be useful during those years but I came out of it pretty empty.

I stumbled into a marriage and a career in post-production, but then one day I looked up and 15 years had passed without writing a single paragraph.

The industry changed. Film went away along with the grizzled lab guys I loved talking to. I became a single dad raising a son. Learning to cook and do yoga and rise to the occasion of parenting an incredible kid.

It became time, once again, to write. Constructively this time. With the ingenuity of someone building a life and not just the inventive madness of a kid escaping an erupting volcano.

I was no longer the wunderkind but I went back to UCLA to study screenwriting. I found the patience to embrace criticism and characters that shined a spotlight on my own imperfections... Even learn to love them, a little.