I Never Intended To Distribute My Own Work

When No One Else Wanted to Distribute My Films… I started doing it myself.

Like a lot of filmmakers I really thought I’d make my first feature film, it would get into all the big film festivals, I would negotiate a lucrative distribution deal and could then just work on my own films, full time. It was a nice dream, but that’s what it turned out to be, a dream.

I had already made a bunch of short film that had played all over the world, (television and film festivals) and done really well. I had the connections and I had made a really good film. All of that was true and still, it made no difference when it came to getting a distribution deal.

I had screenings for my first feature, Birddog, with all the main “Indie” distributors. They all turned it down for various reasons. Mostly it was, “there’s no one famous in the film”. And the tone was too “dark”. None of the reasons had anything to do with the storytelling, acting, or the quality of the film. They wanted something easy to sell, which is why they wanted famous people in it.

The few offers I did get for distribution were not in my best interest. I would not have made any money. I had a lot invested and there was no way I could afford to let someone else make money off of my work without paying me.

I could have just let that film sit on my shelf and gone back to working on other people’s films. But I didn’t. I made two more features and by the time I completed the third one I decided that I didn’t want a distributor. I was going to do it myself. Maybe not the best decision, but looking back on it, it was the right one.

I believed in my films. They were personal on many levels. I had put everything I had into making them. I knew they were good and whenever I had screenings with audiences, they audiences loved them. I hit a point where I said, “I put my heart and soul in to these, and now I need to get them out into the world however I can.”

I came up with the idea to take my films, and later my books, and other merchandise out on tour. Other artists tour, musicians, comedians, actors in plays, even old time producers back in the 1950’s would take their special interest movies to towns all over the country, so why couldn’t I?

So I started booking venues, which sounds a lot easier than it was.

I booked my earliest tours using a combination of MySpace, a fax machine, and some emails. I would check out film departments at various schools and if they had any faculty members who had graduated from USC, I sent them a note addressed to “my fellow USC graduate”. If there were no USC people I would just check faculty profiles and see who looked like they might be willing to house me. I would also contact friends to find out if they knew anyone who might be interested in booking me?

It was a slow process but it worked. There were times when people would agree to book me and once I hit the road, they disappeared. I would have dates and screenings fall through. I had a few screenings and workshops where just one or two people would show up. No matter how large or small the group, I did my best to give them 100%. If they came out to see my work I wanted to make it memorable. I also knew I was laying the ground work for more tours to come.

I booked Art House Cinemas, Micro Cinemas, Media Arts Organizations, Universities and Colleges, hell I even showed my films in bars. I would play anywhere I thought I could get an audience. I also taught filmmaking workshops, did guest lectures, and even judged a few film festivals.

I had some great screenings, and some rough ones as well. My 120 pound Chocolate Lab, Moses came with me. We slept in the van in parking lots, stayed in cheap motels, nice hotels, in spare bedrooms and even on floors. I stayed in some very sketchy places with people I didn’t know. I drove through horrible storms, dense fog, and fought some intense head winds, just to get my work out into the world. It was just me and my dog.

There were times when Moses saved my ass. One night in a huge rainstorm I checked us into a rundown Motel 6 in Missouri. My first thought when I walked in was to turn right back around and leave. It wasn’t just the place that had seen better days, it was the people as well. It was a rough looking group just hanging out in the lobby. I probably should have left, but after battling horrible weather all day I was exhausted and didn’t want to sleep in the van.

Whenever I stopped at a motel, I made a habit of leaving Moses in the van as I checked in. Even though dogs were permitted in some motels they didn’t always let dogs as large as Moses stay. I went back to the van, grabbed him and what little I had of value. Walking across the lobby to the elevator I could see people staring at us. I had Moses on a very short leash o he looked intimidating. Before I could push the elevator call button, the door opened and there stood three guys who truly looked like they just got out of jail. These were tough dudes and they looked like they were in bad moods. Our eyes met and they were scowling. Oh shit! I thought.

Then they looked down at Moses standing right next to me on his short leash. Their eyes got wide and they couldn’t get away from us fast enough. Excuse me sir! one of them said as they squeezed past us. I looked down at Moses. He was quietly watching them and his hackles were up. He did not like these guys and they knew it.

The rest of our stay there was uneventful.

I’ve written about the economics of touring so I won’t go in to it here. Suffice it to say that I was looking at the long game and knew I wouldn’t make money in the short term. I was more interested in having a career with my own work.

Over seven years I ended up going on roughly fourteen individual six-eight week tours. I also did a three week tour of the UK that I booked totally through My Space.

I had to trust a lot of people I didn’t know to make these tours happen and I’m happy to say I’m still friends with a lot of them.

I’ve traveled across this country multiple times and made a lot of friends. A lot of people saw my work and they liked it. I learned more about filmmaking by screening my work in so many different locations then I would have if I stayed home and made more films.

And I did all of this when I was in my fifties, and into my early sixties. I wasn’t some 20 year old kid who was doing this as a lark. This was my business, my career, my life.

And I found out what’s important to me, not just in my work but also in my life. And that’s where my book Road Dog came from. I had read Kerouac's, On The Road, Steinbeck’s Travels With Charley, and Zen and The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance. I knew I was in for an adventure, I didn’t realize how much I would also learn about myself.

It was physically, as well as emotionally demanding. Driving all day in all sorts of weather. Meeting new people constantly. Making sure the van was in good shape and doing maintenance on it as well as taking care of Moses. And I was constantly performing. I wanted, no, I needed to make a good impression. I wanted to be asked back.

I remember talking to someone who said, “It must have been wild on those college campus’ and film festivals? I’ll bet you did a lot of partying?”

Although I was extremely social, I didn’t party. My response was, “Do you party when you’re at work? Because that is what this is to me, work.” There were a few nights when I would relax and drink with friends, but I had to keep it in perspective. You don’t want to drink too much when you have a five or six hour drive the following day.

It was exhausting on many levels, and yes I would miss home and my daughter. But I knew I was out on the road for the right reasons and did my best to make it up to my daughter when I got home.

In addition to meeting people and showing my work, I saw some amazing things. Beautiful sunrises over the Rockies, enchanting sunsets. Seeing the Atlantic, a couple of the Great Lakes and the Grand Canyon. I got to see so much of this country, both cities and rural spaces. Eavesdropping on conversations, seeing other people’s art, films, and performances. I made friends with people doing incredible things in small towns and out of the way places. Others who had committed to making art on their own terms. Each tour was a different adventure, a different experience. And when you’re driving you see it all.

Yeah, I did not intend to distribute my own work but it’s probably one of the best decisions I ever made. If you’re going to spend weeks, months, and/or years creating something, I don’t know how you can Not go all the way and get it out there for others to (hopefully) enjoy.

Maybe one day I’ll write about some of the people I encountered. The ones who effected me in one way or another and are still my friends.

I look back now and see how naïve I was. Booking all of these shows in places where I didn’t know anyone, climbing into my van and heading out. But I did it. And I did it because I believed in my work. I believed in my films, and my books. Most importantly, I believed in myself.

My life is so much richer because of the things I did, the places I’ve seen, and the people I’ve met. I’m a very lucky person.

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