While I was at USC and before I was at Disney, I had the good fortune to get in as a production assistant on a couple music videos and commercials for a bit of weekend work. My old friend Brian, with whom I grew up making weekly videos for our church youth group, was several years older than me and was working nearly full time in the film industry as a production coordinator and second A.D., so he would call me to see if I was interested in a couple days work. I always was, of course, and found myself working on a few live film sets -and getting paid for it- over the summer. This helped pad my resume for the eventual job at Disney, and it also gave me some fun on-set time with my buddy. 

We had a great time, felt important at the bottom of the ladder, and learned a lot about the business. At the end of a job, we would dine on leftover craft services and chat about the Big Time, and just how we were going to go about making it. We knew that, eventually, we were just going to have to go out on a limb and make something, anything, so we could shop ourselves around. So we set about a plan. But first, a road trip. Something Brian and I had always been prone to.

Hawaii, 1991. Brian and I join his mom out to the islands and bring the video camera. We make a movie, which we edit in-camera, meaning, we shot the film in scenic order, making it ready to watch back at the hotel. We head out one night with no concepts in mind, but come across a sugar cane refinery with an unlocked gate. We drove the rental car, our recently muddied Isuzu Trooper, through the open fence and came across an eerily lit industrial complex, steeped in shadows and steam, and begging for a bit of creative energy. A few hours later we'd finished another masterpiece, this one entitled, "The Cane Killer" about, what else? A murderous thug in a chinaman hat who haunts the sugar cane and attacks unsuspecting tourists. I think there were five characters in all, with just the two of us to do the performance. Considering one of us had to hold the camera, it posed something of a creative challenge. But we had fun making it, and when we got home we dubbed the Batman soundtrack to it, and it was an instant home movie classic.

A few nights later, we were walking a Maui beach talking of the future. I told him the story of George Lucas, who had been so consumed by the production of Star Wars that he was convinced it was going to be a failure upon its release, and so he escaped to Maui when production wrapped, and it was there that he walked the beach with his buddy Steven Spielberg and pitched a little idea for a film he had. Something about the

ten commandments and an adventurous archeologist name "Indiana Smith". A couple years later, a slight character name change, and history was made. Brian and I sat there on the sand, in the dark, waves crashing at our feet. If we were going to make movies, we'd best be getting started...

So when I was at Disney, I started to take it seriously. One late day, after everyone had gone home, I stopped in on the producer's office and bent his ear a bit. I asked him what I should do to get started making films. Where was it I should be spending my energy. And he said, "Are you writing?"

Which caught me off guard a bit, and not just because the answer was "no" but because I'd always been obsessed with the images -their composition and juxtaposition, and the emotional power that was wrought in camera placement. His name was Don Hahn, and he was a tall, mild-mannered, friendly, and all the while clever and thoughtful man. He had just finished up as an associate producer on Roger Rabbit, and this was his first big production. He was hired on at Disney 15 years before, the same week as my friend Steve (hence, how I got the job) and started out as a Production Assistant, like me. So I think he had a bit of empathy for my lowly, but ambitious position. He took ten minutes and reminded me of the simple things -you've gotta have a good story, you've gotta be able to tell a good story, and if you don't have that, if you can't do that, the millions of dollars of camera gear aren't gonna make a damn bit of difference. All this from the guy who, a couple years later, would be the name that came up, announced at the Academy Awards ceremony, when Beauty and the Beast was nominated for Best Picture.

Don was right, of course. And then he didn't hesitate to add what would be the salient, resounding thing of our little talk: you don't have millions of dollars. So every moment that you're not behind the camera, you should be behind the pen. Cameras are costly. Pencils are cheap.

He was right. I was seeing and learning about the importance of story right there, on the Beauty pre-production staff. I needed to get writing, but how? I was a terrible English student. I didn't think I could do it. It scared me. I'd tried some screenwriting in the past, but it had always fallen so flat that my passion never got anchored in it. But, Don mentioned a few books that might help, told me to just tell a story as naturally as it came, and that it didn't hurt to get a computer. The computer was the easy part. A few weeks later I got my first Mac, very excitedly, and I stopped in to tell him, but it didn't seem to move him much. Don said, "Oh good."

So I struggled with the writing, on and off, but still chatted regularly with Brian about our plans to produce something. It so happened that we had a few mutual friends from summer camp who were starting out in a band, and had had some industry attention directed their way. We approached them about doing a few music videos, and they were excited about the prospect. Brian also had a friend in the recording business, and had helped them get a high quality demo tape made at one of the finest recording houses in Hollywood, so we had impressed upon them that we were a serious, highly connected, professional outfit. They trusted us, and wanted us along for the ride. They thought they

were going gold. "Fine with us!" we figured.

Brian and I got together fairly regularly to listen to the songs and bounce ideas around for the videos. We chatted about it with a friend who was a professional cinematographer and he like the concepts, so he was in! Then we mentioned the concepts to a friend who was a producer and got her input on budgeting. She was supportive, so SHE WAS IN! And we chatted with a few other film friends who all said they'd be happy to come around to crew for us and THEY WERE ALL IN! All we needed was a green light and a blank check, and then we'd all be in. But we also needed a company name. One day at a gas station it came to us: Road Trip Productions. We thought it was perfect.