Donate to my fundraiser for The Cabin: https://gofund.me/3f4b435dd
What did you want to be when you were younger? Where did you want to be? Who did you want to be?
I’m not talking about when you were little. I’m not looking at the days when we all wanted to be ninjas or princesses. I am talking about when you became a teenager. Those were the years when things started to crystallize a little better. What was your dream at the time you entered high school?
Flash forward to the present day. Are you that person? Are you where you’d hoped you’d be? Doing what you’d hoped you’d be doing? I hope you are.
For me, my life over the last thirty years has consisted of having one foot in the so-called ‘real world,’ and one foot struggling to keep its footing in those teenage dream years. Maybe you’d say I’ve held on too long to dreams that might never come true. I’d counter with maybe you gave up on your dreams too quickly.
I have always dreamed of working in some sort of creative field. I have had ten books published, have hundreds of blogs, hundreds of videos on YouTube that I have created from scratch, and hundreds of podcasts. Everything has been created by me from beginning to end.
The time between when I graduated high school and the green-lighting of my first book was fifteen years. In those years, I was a stock boy, landscaper, and cook. There were many days that the fire or my creative dreams were reduced to a tiny glowing ember underneath a pile of ash.
I never gave up, though. Even when my life was a mass of turkey clubs and fries, I never stopped dreaming. My hope of someday using my creative brain to make a living kept me from falling down a rabbit hole of despair in my 20s that I probably would never have gotten out of. Sometimes a little hope goes a long way.
Giving up on my teenage dreams has always felt like I’d be slapping my younger self in the face. My dreams of being a writer or a filmmaker in high school carried me through a home life that was chaos on nearly every level.
I had a biological father who couldn’t have cared less about me unless I had money I could give him. I had a stepfather who it felt like had a mission to break my spirit both physically and emotionally. That teenager fought to keep going, so this middle-aged man fights to keep those dreams alive.
You don’t understand how important a little hope is until that’s just about all that you have. Through rejection by my father, I had hope. Through abuse from my stepfather, I had hope. Through depression, breakups, and confusion, I had hope.
What ended up happening is the older I got, I’m talking later 30s, I started to feel that hope turn to something else: purpose. The older I got, being unmarried with no children, the more I started to step back and look at my situation on a macro level. There had to be a reason why I was where I was at that point in my life.
It easily could have morphed into fear and desperation. Oh no, I need a wife, and I need to have kids and settle down before it’s too late. I went the opposite way. I said, the fact that I am almost totally unrestricted must mean something. It gives me freedom to keep pursuing those teenage dreams.
There is an inspirational meme that I have gone back to many times over the last several years. There are two men in tunnels digging with pick axes. Both are slowly digging toward a giant stash of diamonds. One man is mere inches away when he gives up and turns around. The other man, it is theorized, will keep digging and find his fortune. That is my hope.
I am 48 years old. I have been on this road in varying forms for 30 years. Sometimes I stray and get lost in the woods for a bit, but eventually I am back on the road. Heading for what? I don’t know. I have hope.
Later this summer, I am producing my first feature film. It is called The Cabin and is a short story I wrote back in 2008. It is this project that I feel is the full-circle moment. This is where teenage dream and middle-aged reality finally meet.
Back to the digging for diamonds meme I just mentioned. In my life, I crossed a series of imaginary lines that could have been crossroads. I couldn’t play guitar the way I’d hoped. I had no way of making any money writing poetry. I made pennies on each of the ebooks I spent countless hours writing, editing, and self-publishing. I got a book deal and sold a fair amount, but got little in royalties from any of them.
Over the course of fifteen years, I had several exit signs on that road of life. I doubt anyone would have even noticed that I’d silently gotten off the highway to find whatever rundown shack I could and settle in to waste away my remaining decades. But I kept going.
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| I'd rather explore a rundown shack than live in one. |
If music, poetry, my ebooks, or even my traditionally published books didn’t change my life, there had to be something else on the horizon. It is a mix of hope and stubbornness that kept me digging for those diamonds.
The Cabin doesn’t arrive as an opportunity if I leave my dreams behind. Sure, my creative work has only given me modest financial gains, but it has given me something just as important: visibility. All of my work leaves a mighty imprint online. I am easy to find.
The work I did over the years allowed producer Frank Durant to find me. He was looking for someone to write the companion book for his upcoming Lady of the Dunes documentary in 2021. I could have turned it down, but my senses told me it was going to be an important project. It was. In some small way, we helped spur on law enforcement to solve the nearly fifty-year-old cold case of a murdered woman found in the dunes of Provincetown.
That project led to me getting a small role in an indie horror film, Cape Cod Cthulhu, directed by Mark Polonia. That project and meeting gave me an opening. Frank was the one who had initially been interested in The Cabin. We had spoken about it a few times over the course of maybe two years. He mentioned it to Mark as a potential film, and the rest is history.
Again, I believe everything in my life that has happened, or not happened, has led me to this moment. Having a wife and kids, while it would have been a blessing, would have left me unable to just up and go off on an adventure to film this movie later this summer.
If I had looked at my lack of financial gains through my creative endeavors over the years and given up at any point, The Cabin wouldn’t have happened. Hell, I could have given up early and never have even written The Cabin in the first place.
I want to do right by that teenage boy who was dealing with so much shit, but never let it break him. I want to do right by my mother, who always supported me. I want to do right by my family and friends who have proven time and again that they truly believe that I am on the right path, even during the times when I doubt myself.
When I was younger, I had hope. Now I have support. One is you just trying to survive another day. The other is people you care about telling you that you are worth the time. One is solitary. It is teenage angst, telling others I’ll do this on my own, whether you like it or not. The other is a village. It is the cheering crowd during the last mile of a grueling marathon.
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| At the end of my one marathon I ran. |
Of course, hope and support don’t matter if you don’t put the work in. That isn’t a problem. For five years, I have worked a full-time job while also spending 15-20 hours weekly working on various creative projects. Work for your dreams, and they will work for you. I’m all for wishing and manifesting, but I’d rather climb the tree to get an apple rather than stand underneath it hoping one falls.
This summer in 2026 feels like the time when my teenage dream and my midlife reality have hit a perfect intersection. I have built up enough equity through years of hard work with little more than that dream to carry me forward.
Perhaps if I had been offered the chance to produce a feature film when I was fresh out of college, I wouldn’t have appreciated it. I’d have probably been smug and felt like it was all too easy. The fall would have likely been epic after that.
I think I had to go through the grind. I had to go through years of being the proverbial starving artist to fully appreciate a big opportunity when it arose. I won’t lie, there is also a little twinge of desperation. That little belief that I’d better go all out because it might be the only opportunity that I’ve got.
Nothing is for certain. I don’t have any delusions of grandeur. In my mind, The Cabin is a major milestone, but also the beginning of a new road. I foresee a streaming deal, DVD/Blu-ray sales, maybe a small theatrical release on Cape Cod. I don’t see making millions off a low-budget, indie, psychological, suspenseful horror film.
What I do see is that tunnel leading to the diamonds. Maybe The Cabin is the peak of my film career. If I believe that, then it will be no matter what. I have several other stories I’ve written that could easily be made into films. Maybe the screenplay gets me noticed. You’ve got to make the most of every chance you get.
Even if I go no higher than a producer of a small indie horror film, I will still forever be able to say I am a film producer. It’s just like when I ran my only marathon. I can forever say I am a marathon runner.
I want more than that, though. I have hustled way too long to be satisfied with ‘good enough.’ That begs the question. How will I know if I have truly succeeded in chasing that teenage dream? It’s actually very simple.
The day that I wake up and am fully financially supported by my creative endeavors, I will know I made it. I don’t need a 5,000 square foot house on the water. I don’t need a luxury sports car. I don’t need the latest and greatest of everything. I just want to wake up knowing my success has come from my creative mind and does not rely on a person or company that could literally destroy my life in a moment by terminating me.
I don’t need to be rich. I need to feel fulfilled. I don’t need to be better than everyone. I need to feel as good as anyone. Teenage me wouldn’t get it. Middle-aged me does.
Don’t ever give up chasing your dream, whatever it is. That’s the best way I can sum up all of what I have written. I could have thrown my hands up and said 'oh well’ when I failed at 23 with guitar, or failed at 26 with poetry, or failed at 32 with ebooks. By failure, I just mean I didn’t become financially stable.
Maybe I fail at 48 with film producing. Who knows? But I never went into any venture believing I’d fail. Hope for the best, plan for the worst. The Cabin is a culmination, but also a new beginning. It is the moment when a teenage dream meets middle-aged reality. I am ready for the ride, wherever it takes me.
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