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A few years ago a decision was made. I put a few thousands of dollars onto a credit card to buy a very good camera. The Sony A7sIII. I was using my father’s old Sony HD camera and it felt time for an upgrade.

My reasoning was if I bought this camera I would learn everything about it, thus revealing a new line of work for myself. A new line of work that is steadily growing, and booming, and, hey, still is. My plan was to buy the camera and quickly break even, but that’s not usually how things go.

I learned a lot, I shot a lot, and I made some YouTube videos too, but I wasn’t seeing the improvements (or rather, refused to see them) that I needed to prove to myself that I was making progress. I failed in a few ways:

I did break even on the purchase eventually. Not without it’s interest accumulated after years of wading through a vast ocean of knowledge and how-to’s.

Less and less I filmed, more and more I let the camera and my skills collect dust. The camera started to become a symbol of all the debt that I had to my name, along with the guilt that I had for not using it enough.

Until I got sick of one too many days passing me by not touching this incredible tool. Getting sick of the power it had over me, but not the tool itself, the emotions around it. In more ways than one, and not as simply, I kinda told myself to “get over it.”

I think what really pushed me over the edge was that I created this condition on myself that the reason I couldn’t use the camera was because I didn’t have the material. So I wrote, and I wrote a lot, and then… I had a lot of material. Seriously, let’s look at stats:

And a thought occurred to me… maybe I had enough material. And maybe that wasn’t all that was scaring me. I think the true fear is putting myself out there. I can hide behind words on my newsletter, but my face will appear on camera, and I think that scares me.

I’ve worked it down to the fear of failing, but that’s another newsletter to come.

My tactic!?:

Be friends with the camera.

I vowed to change how I felt about this tool. I started to bring this camera with me every where I went. I left it on my desk while I worked, I took it home, and I kept it in my bag. I started to carry it in my hands more, and I greeted it every time I saw it. I changed the concept of this camera, I changed the circumstance around this camera, and I made it a friend of mine. No object should ever have the power it had on me. No tool should ever carry the weight that I let it have.

I did this for quite awhile without shooting anything. Then finally, I shot something. The smallest of somethings. A video I decided I would never show anyone. A secret and small proof of concept to myself that told me—that showed me, “I’m ready now.” I felt ready because I couldn’t help but want to show people. So… I lied… I showed a few friends, but that was it. Then I laid the video to rest.

So with this re-found desire, with the learnings of my past mistakes. I shot a new video, for the public, for you, today. To begin this journey once again of telling stories on this platform and through this medium.

My goal is to tell the story. I’m acting as if my YouTube page is my sketchpad. Though the video concepts may change, my goal is to continue to develop the ability to put language to the lessons that I’m learning, the ideas that are held close to my heart and soul and mind. My goal is to give you something that entertains, inspires, and/or educates you toward a creative and spirit filled life. I wish only to give you something wonderful, and I’ll do my best to do so.

If your creative practice feels stuck in second gear—or you’re simply craving a steadier, deeper way to work—I’ve got space on the calendar for 1-on-1 sessions.

We’ll use Chekhov-inspired tools to…

First session is on me: book a free 30-minute call to see if the fit feels right.

Keep rolling after that? Follow-ups are $60 for 90 minutes.

👉 Grab a spot on my calendar →