The Riches of a Creative Life (Even When the Checks Don’t Cash)

 

I was born into something of a showbiz family: my dad was a successful TV and radio announcer, and my mom was a Columbia Studios starlet and model. As for me, I was a creative little kid—always being silly, always making people laugh, always keeping folks entertained. But I truly fell in love at age eleven—not with a person, but with a Super 8 camera. It was 1974, and that little machine opened a door to a world where imagination ruled. My friends and I made movies with cardboard props and wild ideas, edited them with tape and scissors, and screened them for anyone willing to watch. We weren’t chasing fame or fortune. We were chasing joy.

At Beverly Hills High School, I found my tribe. The film and TV department was a dream factory, and for four years, I lived inside it—writing, directing, acting, editing, even building sets. The school had its own cable channel, broadcasting our work across parts of Los Angeles. We were kids, but we were creators. And that mattered.

After high school, I kept going—live theater, more video productions, and a stint in the film industry as a still photographer, grip, and even a stuntman. I met cool people, learned the rhythm of a set, and soaked in the energy of storytelling. Did I make a fortune? Not even close. But I made memories, friendships, and art. That’s a different kind of wealth.

In the ’90s, I turned to screenwriting. Working at a talent agency and major studios gave me access to hundreds of scripts. I studied them like sacred texts. Eventually, I optioned one. Sold another. Saw my first film produced in 1999. That moment—seeing something I wrote come to life—was electric. Not because of the paycheck, but because I had added something to the world I loved.

The journey hasn’t been smooth. Scripts have been shelved. Projects have fizzled. There were days I considered giving it all up and becoming a potato farmer. But the spark never died. I kept writing. Kept dreaming. A couple more of my scripts have been produced—though not yet released. Still, they exist. They were made. And recently, I discovered the joy of novel writing—two books so far. No royalties (well, nothing you could call life-changing), but endless creative freedom—and wow, unbelievably fun to write.

And yes, it’s important to pay the bills. I’ve worked plenty of “regular” jobs—waiting tables, hauling boxes in warehouses, doing security at major film studios, even grinding through mindless tasks at big Beverly Hills talent agencies. None of it was terribly glamorous, but it kept me (and my family) fed and afloat. The point is: you can do both. You can work to survive and still carve out time to create. It’s not always easy, but it’s always worth it.

And I’m still writing screenplays. In fact, I’ve got three new scripts—each in a different genre—currently being sent out, or about to be sent out, by my manager. The thrill of crafting something new and watching it find its way into the world hasn’t faded one bit.

So, to the young dreamers out there: if you’re wondering whether to follow your creativity even when the money’s uncertain—do it. The world needs your voice, your vision, your weird little stories. I’ve lived a life rich in meaning, even if the bank account didn’t always agree. And the only regret I’d have is if I’d ignored that eleven-year-old kid with a camera and chosen something “safe.”

Create boldly. Love the process. And trust that joy is its own reward.