While we're all used to calling the coming attractions at the start of theatrical films trailers, the phrase itself comes from original placement of the advertisements at the ends of features–they "trailed" behind the movie, see? So I find it somewhat interesting that it is only at the tail end of production, as we're working on the sound effects, credits, and VFX for my directorial debut (The Suspect)that I have the time, opportunity, and resources to get out in front of the film to share a bit of its construction with you.

The project was a labor of love from the get-go, and I feel as if coming out of the far side of its making, I've stumbled into possession of two distinct treasures. The first, of course, is the finished film itself–a psychological thriller centering around racism that, in true Sisyphean fashion, I took from a legal pad to a finished film over the years. That is something easy enough to share with you, this being a kind of golden age of distribution options. The film was the goal, obviously; the target we'd set our sites on. But there was a second, surprising aspect to the entire process I didn't see coming that I now seems to me to be nearly as important:

A comprehension of an artistic process that cannot be anticipated, planned on, or taught. It is pure distilled experience. A first film only happens one time to any of us aspiring directors. Once you see how it all comes together, how the gears mesh, you've become in some ways enlightened.

And it turned into an enormous amount of insight into the methods and strategies of independent filmmaking. There are instructional texts out there, of course. I've read them. But I promise you, nothing that tells you what it's really like to assemble the parts and go to battle on the front lines of production. There is a reason so many investors demand a director with feature experience and a producer with a list of credits before they sign a check. I, as a first time director teamed up with a first-time producer, was fighting with one hand tied behind my back. And yes, it's a Catch-22 since no one comes out of the womb with an IMDB directing credit to their name. There are ways over the hurdle, as this project can attest. The key to getting the traction to move forward despite this and the myriad other obstacles might come as a surprise.

With the expectation that many of you are in the same boat I once was in (a trying-to-break-in screenwriter who slowly began to understand that one has to make his or her own opportunities to break through) I'm figuring you may want to know more about my specific experience. How did we deal with agents, get actors to read the script, nail down schedules, locations, insurance, etc. etc.?

There are answers, and the journey is as instructive as it is complicated and inspiring.

Over the next several months I'll be chronicling the construction of the film. There are lessons to be learned, for sure. I hope I'll have enough material to compile if not a book, then at least something along the lines of a Kindle Single.

Now that I think of it, however, I'd like to add a third treasure to what I've accrued: A new and sure-to-be lifelong friendship with my composer, aide-de-camp and partner in crime (thrillers), Stephen Coates of The Real Tuesday Weld. Stephen has worked tirelessly on the score when his time might well be better spent publicizing his most recent album, The Last Werewolf.

So Stephen, allow me to step in and do a little of that work for you while you're busy synching to timecode and re-writing cues to my vague instructions in the middle of the night. Readers, this is a link to one of my many favorite albums, London Book of the Dead

If you support indie film, why not download a song or two and then come back here to report on what you've discovered in the comments section below? And stop by from time to time to learn lurid behind-the-scenes story of the writing, pitching, casting, financing, producing, location, scouting, catering and shooting of The Suspect.

Wait a sec... didn't I just say that this education is something that needs to be experienced? Yep. But I am a true believer that the power of the written word lies in its ability to transfer understanding. My experience came in the muddy trenches of production. Yours, on the other hand, can come from reading my account.

Lucky for you...