I grew up sharing toys, pets, TV and movies with my sister. Monster trucks and Barbie dolls. Cats and dogs. Mad Max and My Little Pony.
My parents would take us around Europe in a caravan. We got to roam landscapes, gaze around museums, and smirk in novelty shops. They raised us equals. I enjoyed boardgames, Bombay mix, and Drambuie.
School was tough. Teachers were quick to remind me my surname is slang here in England for idiot. I had to work my way up to the smart kids classes. I developed serious acne. Between the bullying I overheard girls saying I made them feel sick.
On weekends I would be drinking, smoking, and rebelling. On weeknights I would be teaching myself graphic design and freelancing. When everyone went to university, I decided to work for myself.
I would spend my free time modifying cars and racing them on the street. The police chased us, sometimes we chased them. My girlfriend ditched me for my best friend. For a couple of years I paired up with a biker girl struggling with her drug addicted disabled mother. She ended it with a text message. I moved to the coast in Wales, living and working in small student room with my current partner. I wasn’t allowed to live there, I had to hide under the bed when the landlady visited.
I took a creative director role at a marketing agency. We settled down and bought a house. It didn’t fulfil me.
I went back to freelancing. I did well. London. Vegas. Dubai. Hong Kong. Big industry. Oil & gas. But one day I fell to my office floor and lay throwing up years of pent-up emotion. I realised none of it was making me happy.
I turned to something internal. Something that had always been there for me. Something that rocked me to sleep and greeted me when I awoke. Something that fascinated me when life was dull and kept me going when life was hard. My imagination.
I wrote myself through the darkest void of my depression. I regrew over and over until I become strong. I wrote features, shorts, episodes, and novels. Year one; a feature script on a studio consideration slate. Year two; a short produced in London. Year three; writing assignments with Skype calls to LA. Year four; short scripts in production in five countries. Year five; a free script hosting website launched. Year six; my first feature script option. Year seven; my first feature script production in Los Angeles. Year eight; my first producer credit.
I’m obsessed with my craft, a slave to my audience, a friend to my peers, and loyal to my leaders. I’m very open minded and I’m all about the love. It doesn’t matter to me if it’s Tarantino or Twilight, I always try to look for the good in everything.
In 2016, frustrated by prohibitive costs and exclusive cliques that screenwriters and filmmakers face when trying to source or market scripts, I started the script hosting website www.scriptrevolution.com which offers many of the features of the paid listing services for free.