And this is a lesson that I don’t think I’ve read in many books, or magazine articles, or heard on many DVDs, and that lesson is: When you’re making a feature film expect anything to happen at any time — anything. You must always be prepared for the unexpected and you must be prepared to adapt, modify, and/or change your game plan at any given moment. And I mean this in both positive and negative connotations.

It’s funny that my horoscope for today should say:

This could be the day when all your hard work finally pays off!

Because, all things considered, my hard work has paid off in a way. Not exactly the way I expected it to, but this unexpected occurrence has happened and A Diamond in the Sky is going to be much, much better because of it. So, now you’re screaming, “Quit speaking in generalities, asshole. Get to the point,” which I will in a moment, but I must first draw your attention to one of my posts from last August here, because in that post I speak in reference to Scott Mosier and his relationship to Kevin Smith:

I need to find a producer like that. I NEED to find a producer like that. I need my facilitator. I need my enabler. I need my engine. I need my fuel. I need my Scott Mosier. I need my Lawrence Bender. I need my Elizabeth Avellan. That person that’s going to be there film after film to make things happen. To push me along. Who can understand me and what I’m trying to do and achieve. Not to say that I don’t already have people around me that understand what I’m trying to do or achieve, but I’m lacking someone that knows what needs to be done to proceed to that next step and all subsequent steps.

This will happen. I just wish I knew when.

Now, meet my new best friend and newest producer: Sam Holdren. So the answer to my own question is, “You will meet this person on June 11, 2008 — and nothing is going to be the same again.”

Sam noticed the casting call on Myspace early last week when Matt Jenkins posted a bulletin to help me spread the word of the auditions in Gallipolis. Soon after that, Sam contacted me expressing interest in helping the production in some capacity. Given the fact that by that point I had already received several other e-mails from some great people expressing the same notion, I politely explained to Sam that most positions were filled and I wasn’t sure what he could possibly do to help the production (completely oblivious, of course, to just how much he could help the production). Sam wasted no time in responding that he was still definitely interested in helping and it didn’t matter that I wouldn’t be able to pay him.

Okay, so at that point he had my attention, but just to make sure I sent him the screenplay so that he could see exactly what he was getting himself into, after which time he promptly sent yet another e-mail stating that he would be at the open auditions and we could speak more then.

So he showed up last Wednesday and auditioned and then when I was able to find a break in auditions we stepped outside to speak — at length — about the screenplay. And what an impressive conversation it was. So impressive, in fact, that I was sold on his involvement, so I quickly gave him Natasha’s number and told him to call her and then we would talk about how to move forward.

When he called Natasha last Thursday, one of the first things he mentioned was that if we could push the shooting schedule, that we could accomplish so much more and the film would be so much better because of it. At which time Natasha politely told him in so many words, “Sheridan has his heart set on a July 9th start date, so the question I’m asking you is are you ready to forget everything you’ve learned in film school, get your hands dirty, and get this movie made in a month?” Sam simply replied, “Well I would have to say — hell yeah.” And again, he had my attention. Here’s a guy that has come out of nowhere, he believes in the story, he loves the script, and even knowing that it could be better, he’s still willing to step up to the plate and do what needs to be done in three weeks to make this picture happen. You bet your sweet ass that I took notice of this, because this isn’t something that happens everyday, and this single act is what put into motion a series of thoughts — a series of factors — that would ultimately inform the decision that I made late last night/early this morning.

But before I reveal that decision, let’s discuss some of those other factors.

First, when Sam and I met on Friday of last week and he spent 14 hours in Gallipolis helping us with auditions and then discussing the entire production at length over coffee at The Hot Spot until 3 AM Saturday morning, he very meticulously went over all of the ways and details in which this film could be better if we pushed the start date, which I listened to, but then politely informed him that if he wanted to come aboard as a producer, he was more than welcome, so long as he understood that we were starting on July 9th. Without hesitation he agreed, but the things he spoke of stuck.

Secondly, I’ve had an overwhelming response from people due to the subject matter of the story and the plight of the characters. I can’t even begin to number the people that have called me, e-mailed me, or contacted me in some form to explain how they’ve read the Sides that were available on the website and how they can relate to this story because of dealing with Child Protective Services themselves, or losing a loved one and having to take on a responsibility such as raising a child or children on their own.

Although I did kind of expect it in West Virginia and Ohio, I seriously didn’t expect to hear the same kind of stories from people in L.A., but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, because it’s every writer’s goal to write a universal story that anyone can relate to, which I’ve done without even knowing it, almost by accident, and this small percentage of people contacting me to share their stories has made me quickly realize that many, many people will connect with this difficult story that I’ve written on a very personal level and when this film is complete and it’s released for the world to see that, as it is with all films, it will become something much larger than myself.

Thirdly, I’ve said from the beginning that all of this isn’t about getting into Sundance, or winning film festivals, or making millions of dollars on a distribution deal. All of those things would be nice, of course, but this is, first and foremost, about making the best movie that we can possibly make. So when the casting breakdown went out on Breakdown Express and Actor’s Access yesterday afternoon and within six hours I had over 1,000 submissions and I was able to see the vast number of very talented people that were very interested in this film based on the characters and the subject matter, it became very apparent and overtly clear that I owe it not only to myself, but to the people already involved with this film, the actors that I’m going to cast, and ultimately the audiences that will see this film, to take a step back now, take a collective breath, refocus, and do what needs to be done to achieve that original goal of making the absolute best film we can.

And now looking at just over 3,500 submissions on Breakdown Express, it’s made me realize the importance of casting (and a real casting director), not only in a very generalized way, but especially for this film because of the story and its subject matter. Casting for this film should not under any circumstances be rushed, because the relationships between my characters is way too important for this film — for the story that I’m trying to tell. Why should I force puzzle pieces together and risk making the final image awkward and disjointed, when I can take the time to find the right pieces, that fit perfectly, resulting in that lasting beautiful image that’s visually pleasing to everyone?

But yesterday, even given all of those factors and circumstances, my level of anxiety and frustration was through the roof, because I absolutely did not want to admit or even say the four letter “P” word. Because even though these things happen all of the time, on a near-daily basis in Hollywood, I did not want to look like “that guy”. I didn’t want to be perceived as “that guy,” you know, the guy that pushes things — pushes start dates — when in reality there are far worse things to be. But there was also that fear that if I didn’t do this now, if I didn’t start on July 9th, then this film would never get made, but that’s when I realized what it was that I asked for last August:

…someone that knows what needs to be done to proceed to that next step and all subsequent steps.

And who am I to argue when the universe sends me exactly what I’m looking for? This isn’t to say that Vinny, Brandon, Natasha, and everyone else wasn’t right, it just took Sam showing up and giving me those “meticulous details” of what exactly needed to be done for me to realize what could be done to make this film much better, which is something that no one else to this point was or has been able to do.

Which also reminded me of (and I hate to draw this parallel) the story of how Reservoir Dogs came to be. Tarantino wanted to have the entire film take place in a warehouse and film it in black and white 16mm, and it was actually his producer Lawrence Bender that mentioned if Quentin gave him some time, he could find the financing that would enable them to get the talent, expand the story, and shoot it in color 35mm. And we all know what that decision did for their career.

So last night, after a 5 hour phone conversation with Sam, and seriously weighing all of these factors, and performing one of my infamous cost-benefit ratio calculations, I decided that I really needed to trust my gut on this one (because it has yet to fail me) and push the start date. And guess what, the benefits of that decision immediately made themselves known, all of which I will detail more in the coming weeks as this film enters a stage of production that I never planned for or even saw coming, and although it is a little disappointing that I won’t be picking up a camera for this film next month, the benefits of this decision far, far outweigh that tiny sting of disappointment.