TWJ: Log 6 - A Path I Never Expected

The Set-up

My heart was racing. I couldn’t believe what I was actually hearing. Someone was legitimately interested in what I had built. The year and a half of writing the novel, the three months of adapting it into 600 pages of a ten-episode TV series, the budgeting, the scheduling, the sleepless nights, the pain in my chest from anxiety. It was all being proven to be worth it as he spoke longer and longer. But then came the follow-up.

“It’s all really great stuff, but I can’t pass along a spreadsheet. You need something more. You need to put these things into Movie Magic or something like Studiobinder.”

Being an author, these were tools I’d never heard of, so I readily agreed I would do just that and that I’d have the schedule and budget back to him in just a few weeks. Little did I know that was the beginning of a journey I had never expected to take.

The Problem

The very next morning, I logged into my computer. I was anxious to get started, to get to translating my information and breakdowns into a professional format that met the standards of the industry. Then came the horror.

“Wait, how much is Movie Magic?! For JUST the scheduler?! Holy shit! I can’t afford that! Okay, let me check Studiobinder. Well, at least I can get one free project on this. But holy shit, this is ugly! It doesn’t look much better than a spreadsheet! Wait, I have to pay if I want to do certain things, and they’re making me do a YEAR subscription? What?!”

I looked and looked, trying to find other professional tools that would meet my contact’s standards, but everywhere I turned, I ran into exorbitant prices for a single tool, year-long subscriptions, or monthly subscriptions that were unusable if I didn’t keep my subscription, or tools that required downloading and installing and wouldn’t work on my dated Windows 7 system. My heart was dropping.

I had known about the gatekeeping that kept so many out of making it in films, but I had never suspected that the programs needed to even begin putting together a plan would be part of the problem.

It seemed my solutions were gone. What else could I do? I couldn’t use the spreadsheets, and all of the available tools just were not logistically or monetarily feasible for me. I felt stuck. It felt like every single moment of work, the long 18- to 20-hour days, were going to be for naught. I’d hit a roadblock, and I just couldn’t find a way out of it.

I couldn’t give up, though. I was too close to let everything fall apart. I had to do something.

The Solution

If there were no tools out there that I could use for one reason or another, there was only one solution: I had to build it myself. The only issue? I didn’t know how to code. Looking at HTML and CSS and JavaScript was like looking at another language. It was the perfect representation of the old saying, “It’s Greek to me.” It was. But I was determined. I knew there were AI tools out there that I could go to. I could simply tell it what I wanted and needed, and it would spit out the code I needed, with a few hours for working out bugs. But that was the easy way. And I have never been one for doing things the easy way. If I was going to do this, I needed to know what the hell was going on; I needed to know what code was being put in, what it meant, why it was there, and what it did. I needed to actually know the system, not just build it.

So, with determination, I set out to teach myself enough coding to be able to build something that would suffice for my needs. I knew I wouldn’t suddenly become an expert developer or anything, but I didn’t need to be. I just needed to know enough to do what needed to be done.

Day after day, I sat in front of my computer, studying the way coding worked. I studied CSS phrasing and logic; I studied HTML naming, phrasing, and positioning; and I studied JavaScript. The 20-hour days were back.

I bookmarked valuable resources and took as many notes as I could, trying to organize my knowledge as efficiently as possible, and after just three weeks, I began to put code to digital paper.

Coding

Every bit of the next few weeks was as hard and difficult as I knew it would be. I struggled at every corner, trying to remember the proper terminology and placement. “Was it justify-content or was it align-items? Was it both? Was it addeventlistener or was it something I hadn’t come across yet?” Every single day, there were another dozen questions I had to learn an answer for.

There were so many times I just stared blankly at the screen, questioning my life choices and why I was putting myself through the torture. But every time, I sat back, exhaled, and straightened my back. I was doing it because, for me, there was no other option. I couldn’t quit. I’d come too far.

So I continued learning what I needed to know. Some things, I had to Google, and yes, admittedly, some things I did have to ask AI about. However, I avoided AI as much as I could. I wanted this to be MY work. And after a few weeks, I sat back and stared at the computer screen again. Only this time, I was looking at a complete scheduler/stripboard/scene breakdown and a full line-item budget that was better than anything I’d seen Studiobinder offer. I had dealt with every issue thrown my way, and I’d managed to overcome them. I had done it.

Why This Story Matters

With the writing now finished, the real groundwork begins. It’s time to get people to notice, and it’s time to get Viator to a place where people can sit around the TV, asking themselves: “What story would I tell about my life if I had just six months left to live?”

This may seem like a simple question, after all, we’re all posed a similar hypothetical at least once in our lives. But a hypothetical question is far different from seeing others live through it. Watching others who are forced to confront their own lives hits deeper than the hypothetical, and right now, our world needs more of that reflection.

Vitus Production Suite

After sending over the new documents to my contact, I was feeling prouder of myself than I have in a long time. I’d done it. I’d actually freaking done it. I took what looked like a project-ending roadblock and turned it into a learning experience that made me come out stronger and more knowledgeable. But I still felt sick. How in the world was it acceptable for companies to charge the absolutely insane prices for just a couple of tools or force people into a year-long subscription that, when ended, would limit accessibility to their projects?

It shouldn’t be that way, I decided, so I became determined to create something that helped bridge the gap for aspiring filmmakers and creators like myself. We shouldn’t be relegated to spreadsheets if we weren’t able to drop half a rent payment on a single tool. So, I sat back down at my computer, and I began putting together a plan.

I researched tools and systems that were needed by filmmakers, and eventually I came up with a list of 23 tools and sheets that are used by anyone filming anything, whether a 5-minute student film or an epic 100-million-dollar CGI fest. From there, I formulated my plan. I’d focus on a few important tools first, then build the rest over the coming months.

I began laying out the structure and format that I personally found the cleanest and easiest, often asking myself: “How would Aston Martin design a production tool?”

The card system was the answer. Sleek and powerful, it allowed users to keep their information organized without clutter. I fell in love with the rounded corners, the dark, near-black coloring palette that would feel uniform while allowing each product to have its own identity.

But I knew that wasn’t enough. Filmmakers live on set, and that meant that the internet wasn’t always a feasible option for them, so the tool had to be available offline. I also knew that, in order for a tool to truly be universal and usable, it also needed to work on any device.

So, I set out to make it happen.

While quitting the worst job I’ve ever had in 25 years of working, I put together five tools that I felt were the perfect entry point for aspiring filmmakers, and Vitus Production Suite was suddenly a reality. I put together the release structure for the next 3 waves of tools, planning for six more on December 25th, seven more on February 1st, and five more on April 1st.

Now, the tools are available to the world, and I couldn’t be prouder of them. Their functionality, usability, and pricing are what people in a situation similar to mine need. For the price of a single tool from some platforms, you can get 23 full products that have more real-world use cases. No licenses from your team required for you to share with them, and they don’t need a license or log-in to even edit them. They can work anywhere your film set takes you, and they work smoothly on whatever device you prefer working on.

Conclusion

Filmmaking shouldn’t be relegated to only those who can afford the proper tools. There are enough high-priced expenses required for filming, from camera equipment to insurance. Your production and organizational tools shouldn’t be one. And with Vitus Production Suite, they no longer are. I’m proud of these tools, and I know they will make film sets more efficient, more cost-effective, and more accessible. They may not tear down the gate completely, but if they help open the gate to new filmmakers just enough that a few more can squeeze it, then I’ve done my job. I’m excited to see them do just that.

For those who are interested in seeing and trying out the products, click Vitus Production Suite in the header of this site. You can choose your tool and try it out right there before buying. Hope you enjoy!